From those who had hoped to those who inherit!

     The story today is well known among us.  It is often referred to as the “Road to Emmaus.”  Ironically, archaeologists cannot tell us for sure where the town was.  Oh, to be sure, there are some educated guesses out there.  Most of them limit themselves to within about 40 stadia of Jerusalem, giving the disciples an opportunity to run back that evening.  But it is a story which, as with many in our Scriptures, has a particularly important teaching or two for a people mostly in quarantine because of a pandemic!

     First and foremost, I know some people have loved picking up Eucharist.  I get it.  For some of us, church is not church without communion.  That’s part of why we choose to worship in a liturgical setting.  If we did not need communion, we could be worshipping in other traditions and feel just as fed.  That’s ok.  Our text reminds us today where we meet Jesus as Anglicans.  I asked at 8am.  Thankfully, there were only nineteen other people on, so the answers were not too cacaphonic!  That experience, of course, makes me make this one rhetorical.  As you all would have answered, had I unmuted you, we meet Jesus in the Scripture each day and in the Eucharist.  Ah, I see you shaking the cobwebs to remember your Confirmation classes.  Yes, Anglicans believe we meet Jesus in the Word and the Sacrament.  Why?  In part, our reading from Luke’s Gospel informs our rationale.  How do the disciples respond to Jesus’ illumination of the Scriptures?  Their hearts burn!  What happens at the Eucharist?  Something like their eyes being opened.  Sometimes I will state that I am thrilled to be an Anglican or Episcopal priest because I get two chances each time we gather to help those in my cure see Jesus.  If I put you to sleep with bad preaching, you still may meet Jesus in the Sacrament.  If I give a good sermon, you are blessed to spend twice as long with the Lord.

     I see some smiles and glad most everyone still has their sense of humor after six weeks of Coronatide.  The application is, of course, pretty obvious.  We can meet Jesus just fine in the study of Scripture either through Morning Prayer and the other daily offices or through Bible study.  Such study of God’s Word is true worship.  So, it’s not as if we are withholding something from God or even ourselves.  We all have a chance to meet Jesus every day, multiple times a day, if we are truly seeking Him!  That’s not say, of course, that we will not enjoy getting back into community and celebrating the Eucharist together.  For now, we just live in a season where are brains are more engaged than our mystical sight or hearts.  And while not ideal, neither is it heretical, at least for Anglicans.

     Aside from the teaching that we meet Jesus in the Scriptures and in the Breaking of Bread, there are a couple other great lessons for us.  One, in particular was, I thought, better suited to Jim and Robert’s group, Wrestling with God, though it speaks to any American alive today that deals with, let’s call them passionate discussions, regarding the issues of the day.  When Jim had agreed to launch his group, after he found a partner in crime in Robert, he asked me to brainstorm for names.  One of the first I came up with was “syzeteins.”  I was thinking they could sell t-shirts or coffee mugs and have a blast with it.  Jim, of course, completely ignored it.  I’m not sure he even asked me what it meant, he was so underwhelmed!

     Syzetein is a word which indicates strong debate or passionate discussion.  Luke has used it before in 22:23 and it will appear again in Acts 6:9 and 9:29.  The first reference in the Gospel was the fight among the disciples to figure out who was the greatest.  In Acts, the first references the passionate discussion about Stephen among the members of the synagogue of freedmen, and the second references Paul’s effort to evangelize the Hellenized Jews in Jerusalem.  Syzetein has that sense of passionate conflict, where neither side is willing to back down.  About what are the disciples fighting on the road to Emmaus?  We are not told.  Clearly, they no longer believe that Jesus was the Messiah, but Luke does not share with us their particular debate as Jesus “encounters” them.

     We live in a world and a church that tends to one extreme or the other when it comes to passionate debates, right?  People do everything they can to win the debate or argument, sometimes resorting to emotional efforts or ad hominem attacks, if the sense they are “losing.”  It’s horrible when the Church mirrors the world.  We claim to be seekers of the Truth, of God’s truth, yet we fight down and dirty like the best of any politician.  Our spiritual forbears are the people of Israel, those who wrestle with God.  Put in a different language, we have inherited their mantle and do a pretty good job of arguing with God and one another.  I see some rueful smiles.  Good!  We should see ourselves in that wrestling.  I’ll hear back all kinds of feedback about the music.  I’ve tried to keep it Episcopalian, but we range from organ to praise band to trio to folksy.  Some will love some of it; others will hate some of it.  Many will share their considered opinion, not giving a second of thought to whether others found it edifying or distracting.  That’s syzetein!

     Passionate discussions are a part of our spiritual DNA.  How we go about those discussions matters, but we are not crazy or sub-Christian for having passionate discussions about things important to God.  Quite the contrary!  If they are important to God, they should be important to us.  And when are eyes are scaled over or our brains in a fog, we should expect a bit of syzetein in our midst.  Best of all, so long as we are loving our partners in those passionate discussions, God seems to tolerate that in us!  Our problem is when we devolve into ad hominem attacks or, worse, try to convince others we know the others are not “real” Christians, as if we can see into their hearts better than our Lord.

     The second lesson I want us to ponder today revolves around the Resurrection.  There is a famous poem that speaks to a popular American ethos.  It’s by John Greenleaf Whittier, and some of you are already mouthing the money part of the poem.  He wrote a famous poem about not quitting, that success was simply failure turned inside out.  The poem ends with the lines For all the sad words of tongue or pen the saddest are these: “It might have been!”

     For many of us, the poem is about perseverance.  Sometimes the difference between failure and success is just a little more work on our part.  Too often, people give up just before they “make it,” whatever the making it really is.  There is some truth in that ethos.  If we quit every time things get hard, not much will be accomplished.  And often, on the other side of success, people will be heard to say how they gave serious thought quitting just before buckling down.  Good, I see the nods.  I suspect that such an ethos is well valued here in Brentwood and Nashville, right?  How many musicians gave up and failed?  How many tried one more show?  Just one more presentation?  Gave it just one more year or month?

     What happens, though, when we give it our all?  What happens when we give it every ounce of effort or talent or whatever we had to offer, and still we do not succeed?  Such is, of course, what the disciples have experienced in our passage today?  The disciples find themselves in that horrible position, we had hoped.  Is there a more lamentable condition in the human existence?  In their case, they had come to believe that Jesus was the Messiah, that God’s blessings on God’s people were going to be made accessible through Him.  But now they have lived through the events of Holy Week.  Was Jesus glorified, as they understood Messiah would be glorified?  Was Jesus crowned as the heir of David’s lineage and covenant?  Had the oppression of Rome been successfully cast off?  Were the blessings of God bestowed upon them now?

     NO!

     Their friends and fellow disciples are in the upstairs room lock for fear of those who put Jesus to death.  The two fellows seem to have high-tailed it out of Jerusalem in defeat.  There is absolutely left to commend their faith, so far as they can tell.  So here they are, passionately arguing or discussing, telling a stranger we had hoped.

      Mercifully for them and for us, their and our faith is about to receive precisely what it needs.  The stranger, as we all know, is Jesus.  Jesus begins to teach them from the Scriptures that His death was not only necessary, but foretold!  No doubt they were helped in their understandings with reminders that Jesus Himself had warned them, at least three times according to Luke, that He would be betrayed, die, and rise again before they made it to Jerusalem that final time.  Luke shares with us that they felt their hearts burn at the teaching provided by Jesus.l

     As they reach the town, the stranger seems determined to continue on His way.  They invite Him to stay with them.  As He breaks bread with them, Luke tells us, theirs eyes were opened.  They perceive that the stranger was none other than their Lord!  And they head back to Jerusalem, despite the late hour and the days walk, to tell everyone what they have seen and what they have experienced, only to be interrupted by those in Jerusalem telling them that they, too, have seen the Risen Jesus!  Now, only in light of that resurrection, can they begin to grasp what has truly happened.

     As Christians, we claim to be a Resurrection people, an Easter people.  We claim, rightfully so, that God has the power and has the will to redeem all things in our lives.  We are assured that, when we are finally with Him for eternity, the sufferings of life won’t even be worth a tear to us.  The worst things we have suffered will be like those strawberries we go when we first learned to walk or the battle wounds we got from learning to ride a bicycle.

     Yet we are a people who often claim in our hearts we had hoped.  This month two Advent families have said good-bye, for now, to loved ones.  No doubt when their loved ones got sick the Davenport’s, the Bowden’s, and the Bannister’s hoped for a different outcome.  It is likely that all prayed for God’s healing.  He has the power.  It would be appropriate to hope that He would act.  But He did not.  And because He did not act in this time, they cannot stand at the grave with their loved ones here at Advent, mourning their loss but reminding themselves of God’s faithful promises, saying their alleluias at the graves.

     Others of us entered into marriages we thought would last a lifetime.  We stood before our family and friends and God Himself and promised we would commit ourselves to our loved one just as God committed Himself to His people.  Their love would reflect His love.  Yet, how many marriages have ended in divorce, an ending no one wanted?  We had hoped . . .

     Not a few of us have likely found ourselves on the short end of interviews.  Ever find yourself lusting after that perfect job or promotion?  I see some nods.  Did you ever feel you were the perfect person for that job or promotion?  Yep.  Ever get passed over for reasons that seemed . . . insincere or unfulfilling?  You know that feeling . . . We had hoped . . .

     Ever become a parent?  Ever have that determination or feeling that you were going to be the best parent ever?  That your son or daughter were going to be parented the way you wished you were?  Then you changed that first diaper and stuck the baby with a pin?  Turned your eye or attention for a moment, resulting in a fall that scared toddler and you?  Ever found yourself repeating the same phrases of your mother or father, phrases you promised yourself and that baby in your arms you would never use on them, only to find yourself using them?  Ever do everything right, as far as you can tell, and still found your child suffering, for blaming you for their need for therapy, for a broken relationship between you and that baby whose smell still live in your memory?  We had hoped . . .

     Ever found yourself looking for a group to which you could belong, looking for your “tribe.”  Maybe you thought it was a special club; maybe you thought it was a church?  Whatever group it was, you knew you would be valued for who you are because of the shared values.  But when you “got in” you found the group gave you no sense of belonging?  We had hoped . . .

     Ever believed you could be an agent of change?  Have you ever sold out completely in support of a cause or a political candidate?  Ever found yourself convinced that whatever the cause was or whoever the candidate was, you were willing to do whatever was necessary to lift a profile, get support, see someone elected?  Maybe you found yourself distanced by friends and family, but you knew what you were doing, you knew who you were supporting, was good for all of them and you?  Then, once your mission was accomplished, once your support was no longer needed, you find the cause did not fill that void within you, that the cause did not help as you expected, or that the politician was just like every other politician?

     I could go on and on and on and on.  Likely, as I have been sharing times where we had hoped, you were thinking of times where you had hoped, where you had been convinced you were wrong or gullible or whatever to have believed in someone or something.  Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, we know that lament well.  Some of us know that lament too well.

     But like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, we also know the only one in Whom we can place our hope and never be disappointed, never be failed.  Last week, I reminded us that we know Jesus was raised from the dead by the simple fact that all of us have been empowered to accomplish something that glorifies God.  Had Jesus not died, been raised, and ascended, you and I would not have those pentecostal experiences.  Some Adventers even shared their mystical experiences this week.  You and I, like those disciples 2000 years ago, though, know the truth of the Resurrection. All of us.  What prompted these disciples to run back to Jerusalem?  What caused Peter, as we reminded ourselves last week, to switch from denying knowing Jesus to a serving maid to proclaiming to Jerusalem and to the Sanhedrin that Jesus, the Anointed of God, was the only way to right relationship with Yahweh?  What prompted someone to share with you their faith?  What prompted you to believe?  What caused you to accept the promises of God and the claims of His disciples through the ages?

     The Resurrection!

     If Jesus was raised from the dead, we need not be a people who stay in the we had hoped.  We become a people who can still hope, who can still look to the future, because, if God can redeem death, then every other redemptive need in our lives and experiences pale by comparison.  If Jesus can be raised and vindicated for His faith, then we know, we who have been baptized intoHis death and promised a share in His Resurrection, that we, too, will be commended for our faith and vindicated for our belief.

     That is not to say these we had hoped moments do not hurt.  This is not to say we should ever floss over those I had hoped moments of our life.  As a liturgical church, we remind ourselves that suffering is real, that the world wants to squash the hope out of us, that God’s enemy, our spiritual enemies, want us to fall away, to abandon that hope that is within us.

     That’s why, my fellow travelers on our own roads, we are called over and over and over again to remind ourselves of the truth of the Resurrection.  We are called by God to study the Scriptures, to see the patterns of redemptive suffering contained in those pages, so that we might see them in our own lives and in the lives of those around us.  But even then, my brothers and sisters, we are called to gather, to break bread, to remember His death, to proclaim His Resurrection, and to await His coming again, that we might be given eyes to see and ears to hear His work in our lives and the world around us, and that we might cling desperately to that hope only He can give us—that our Father loves us, that our brother Christ has restored us, and that, one glorious day, we will live the hope that He has planted within us.

     So often, it is easy to accept that our sin is too powerful or that His enemy really rules this world, as He claimed when he tempted Jesus.  So often, it is easy to become those who had hoped.  The Resurrection of Jesus, my friends, is that first step into the glorious life He has promised, that we might leave behind the fears and failures of those who hoped and become the heirs, the firstborn sons and daughters, He has called us each to be!

In His Peace,

Brian†

Wait. . . we are witnesses to these things?

     Our reading from Acts, this the Second Sunday of Easter, actually jumps all the way past Pentecost.  If you have never paid close attention to the stories and the teachings that surround them, such a jump might make little to no sense.  Why are jumping past Pentecost when we just did the Resurrection last week?  Cant the lectionary editors let us just bask in the glory and hope of the Resurrection for the season?  In truth, the lectionary designers are probably more steeped in the teaching that Peter wants to drive home in his famous sermon than we realize.

     Peter begins this sermon after the promised coming of the Holy Spirit.  Now, just to refresh our minds since our Holy Week was disjointed thanks to the pandemic, this is the same Peter who denied knowing Jesus to a serving girl on three occasions.  It is the same Peter who does not know what to think of Mary’s report that someone has taken the body of Jesus.  It is the same Peter who will be in a locked room with the other disciples because He is afraid of the Jews.  All that is to say that Peter has not, up until this point, been super human in his faith.  In fact, I think Peter has been pretty archetypical.  At times he walks on water; at other times, though, he sinks in fear.  When things do not make sense, he is confused.  When given insight by the Holy Spirit, Peter is remarkable.  He is much more like us, I think, than some of us would like to admit about ourselves.

     But here he is, less than two months after he denied to the servant girl that he even knew Jesus, evangelizing the crowds in Jerusalem.  And what a sermon!  Our lectionary editors rightly break it up.  There is no way we could study the whole sermon in a way that did right by Peter’s sermon, were it presented in a single reading.

     Peter begins the famous sermon by teaching the whole crowd, all those gathered in Jerusalem, that they are not drunk, as some have suggested; that what they have all witnessed is the fulfillment of the prophecy of Joel.  God has, in fact, poured out His Spirit on all His people, young and old, male and female, alike.  What the crowds witnessed was that wondrous event.  But then Peter goes on to tell them they have seen and heard of even more glorious works of God, namely the work and person and betrayal and torture and killing and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, God’s Anointed and the fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation.

     Not unsurprisingly, most everyone in the crowds are unbelieving.  Jesus is dead, except for those pesky rumors regarding the disappearance of His Body.  The Jewish leadership has gone out of its way to make the people think that Jesus’ disciples have stolen His Body.

     Peter, in our section for today, turns his attention in this sermon to the Jewish people.  Keep in mind, this is a section of his grand sermon, but it teaches many of us who preach for a living how to preach effectively.  For example, this little section divides up neatly into three parts.  The first part is Peter’s insistence upon looking at the events of Holy Week, Good Friday, Easter Sunday, and even Jesus’s Ascension as one long event.  None of them make sense apart from the other.  For example, Jesus could not ascend to be with the Father had He not been obedient unto death.  God, I see the nods.  They are all related.  They are also far more important to us today than we realize, but I’ll come back to that in a moment.

     The second part of Peter’s sermon in this section is his claim that Jesus, a descendent of David, has fulfilled the prophecy of David found in Psalm 16.  David, whom everyone of Jewish descent in those days viewed as an anticipatory echo of George Washington or Abraham Lincoln for us, was a typical human.  David sinned, famously.  David disobeyed God repeatedly, even though he repented each and every time.  This is important because when he died, he stayed dead.  His punishment for sin was death.  And, in typical fashion of the dead, his body decayed and returned to dust—they called it corruption.

     Amazingly, though, David prophesied in Psalm 16 about God not letting corruption taint His Anointed One.  David was clearly an anointed one of God—he was, after all, king.  But he was not THE Anointed One, the Messiah or the Christ with capital letters.  Because of David’s prophecy, they know that Jesus’ resurrection was God keeping the promise that he made through the lips and pen of David, a man after His own heart.  Jesus has not been abandoned to the grave!  God has not let His holy One see corruption!

     The third part of Peter’s sermon in this section deals with the simple fact that all who are present are witnesses to these things.  Peter’s audience, presumably, includes some of the Sanhedrin who conspired to betray Jesus to the Romans and to foment the crowd to call for His crucifixion.  Peter’s audience presumable includes some of those who saw Jesus crucified, who stood at the Cross and mocked Him or stood at the Cross hoping God or Elijah would show up to save Him.  Peter’s audience likely includes some Romans.  Gatherings were dangerous in the ANE; they were sometimes a threat to authority.  It is likely those guards who are watching the crowds and keeping the peace as this fisherman preaches and teaches know the men who nailed Jesus to that Cross, who guarded the tomb where He was buried.  It is likely that Peter’s audience includes those who saw the Temple curtain torn in two from top to bottom, those who felt the earth shake at Jesus’ death, those who saw the sun blotted out as Jesus died, those who saw the dead come out of their grave at Jesus’ death, and even those who saw the miracles by which God attested to the work and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth and were, to put it mildly, disappointed that Jesus was not the one, as proved by His death on a tree.  All of that is to say, they were men and women and children like you and like me.  Their experiences of Jesus of Nazareth were varied.  Their hopes regarding Jesus of Nazareth were likewise varied.  But Peter reminds them all within the hearing of their voice that we are all witnesses of Jesus being raised up, elevated to sit at the right hand of God.

     Now, sitting here in 21^st century Nashville, via computers and phones and whatever electronic devices some 2000 years later and 9000 miles away, how can God mean for us to hear Peter’s sermon?  How can we be witnesses to God’s raising up and elevation of Jesus when we were not there to see it?

     I began this homily with a reminder of Peter’s teaching.  We cannot, according to Peter, upon whom Christ built His Church, separate the events of Holy Week, of Good Friday, of Holy Saturday, of Easter Sunday, of the Ascension, or even of Pentecost from each other.  None can be viewed truly independent of one another.  The betrayal of the Apostles and disciples, and their resulting restoration and conviction make no sense, absent an encounter with the Risen Jesus.  Until Jesus has died and satisfied the justice of God, who cannot just ignore sin, the Holy Spirit cannot come and dwell with us.  Until Jesus has Ascended to the Father, the Spirit must abide with the Father and the Son rather than empower all His sons and daughter, the members of the mystical body we call the Church!  God’s demonstrated ability to redeem all things is not perceivable by us absent Holy Saturday!  Christ was not sleeping.  Jesus was not, to use the famous words of Miracle Max, mostly dead.  He was all dead!  And yet, still God was able to raise Him!

     Our ability to witness to the life and person of Jesus was dependent upon all these events, all these miracles surrounding the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry.  You know this, even if you have forgotten it.  When we come to the fount for baptism, into what are we baptized?  I know, we are all muted, so I have to say it allowed for us to hear, but we are baptized into His Death so that we may raised with Him in His eternal glory.  How is all that accomplished?  Right!  Through the events of Holy Week and Easter and Ascension and Pentecost.  How do we receive power to become heirs and children of God?  Exactly, through all those events.  You and I are no different that Peter and those who lived through those times.  We are recipients of the same pledge, the same promise.

     Sitting at home in your pajamas today you may want to argue a bit.  But Brian, I’ve never SEEN the Risen Jesus.  How can I testify to its truth?  First, remember Jesus’ teaching from the Gospel today.  We are blessed when we believe despite not seeing.  Our doubts do not discredit us; nor do our doubts separate us from the love and mercy of Jesus.  He knows how hard this is.

     BUT . . .

     Have you ever accomplished something to God’s glory that was far above and beyond your knowledge, your expertise, your strength, or your understanding?  How as that done, do you think?  You received the promised Holy Spirit.  And you could only receive that Spirit how?  If Jesus did what He had to do and you believed.  Put more simply, we receive the power of the Holy Spirit today because Jesus was victorious 2000 years ago in Jerusalem!

     I wish we were together and could go longer, even into coffee minute.  Think about the food pantry.  As a body of believers, as a parish, we give money and a part of our gifts, tithes, and offerings go to support that pantry.  Hilary buys groceries for folks from the money you give.  Our budget is, by no means, particularly large.  There are lots of churches up and down Franklin Pike with bigger budgets than our own.  Heck, there are lots of Episcopal churches with bigger budgets than our own in this town.  And yet, in an imitation of loaves and fishes, what are we doing at a time of pandemic?  We are feeding those who have lost their jobs.  We, Adventers, many of whom argued with the priest a couple years ago that we just did not have enough hungry people in our area in need, are giving food freely, in imitation of our Lord and those saints who have come before us, that, in satisfying their physical hunger, they might ask us for the balm to their spiritual hunger.  When the world around is shutting down, treating one another as competitors for resources, running scared of death, we are feeding; we are praying.  And it is noticed.

     Last month, we fed almost 1300 individuals with only 3000 pounds of groceries.  How?  Restaurant and restaurant suppliers have called asking if we can get the food to the hungry.  Other churches have asked if they can give us food to give to the hungry.  People walking their dogs, teaching their kids to ride bikes, just enjoying the open space, have seen the work and been inspired to give to help their neighbors.  We know!  We absolutely know that is the power of the Holy Spirit working in and through us!  We know who we are.  We know who we were, absent the grace and mercy of our Lord Christ.  And so we know this work was not something that we would have championed absent that meeting with the Risen Lord Christ.  We may not know Him as well as Mary or Peter, but we know Him.  Better still, He knows us!  And He has promised, when we gather in His Name, He will be in the midst of us and be glorified.  Brothers and sisters, politicians and news crews are showing up, asking us how and why and can they help spread the word.  We could not have done all this.  We are still, 9000 miles away and 2000 years later, witnesses to Him and His saving, loving grace!  Pray that our witness might draw others into His saving embrace.

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Do you believe? Can others tell?

     Those tuning into the bishop’s sermon this morning from St. George’s heard a bit of teaching and instruction on prayer.  During his sermon, the bishop remarked about how traumatic times can dramatically reshape our prayers.  Sometimes, when we are going about our daily life and work, with no view of our mortality or even need of God’s provision, our prayers may lack the certainty or urgency of faith, may lack the focus we find ourselves possessed of in this time, and may seem now to our own ears somewhat shallow.  As the bishop made his remarks on our prayers, he was not being critical; he was simply recounting the conversations and experiences he has had with himself and others over the years.  Those of you listening to the bishop or reading this may be nodding internally in agreement.  Others, especially, I think, those gifted with the charism of praying for others, may find themselves in a bit of disagreement with that understanding about prayer.  That’s actually great!  God wants us always leaning on Him, always coming to Him, always seeking Him and His guidance.

     Like last week, our assigned readings point to both the power of God to do anything in and among us and His will so do what is good for us.  Ezekiel is famously encouraged to preach to a valley filled with dry bones.  For most of us, such an act would be foolish.  What good would preaching to dry bones do?  Who would hear?  God, of course, famously enfleshes the bones and causes them to live yet again, reminding us that His Word never goes out without His purpose or purposes being fulfilled.

     The letter to the Romans is a challenging selection.  It is challenging not so much in what it teaches, but rather how we misunderstand it or how it gets misused.  The passage has often been cited by God’s people as proof of how much God dislikes matter, and flesh especially.  We are, of course, students of the entire Bible and understand that God created everything and called it good.  It was our distrust, our sin, that marred what we call matter, and separated us from the Spirit or breath of God.  The author, naturally, is reminding the hearers and readers that we need to seek God rather than the material things we tend to worship. 

     Those of us who have lived through this pandemic understand the difference far better today than we might have a month ago.  Think of the empty shelves.  If I just have my barn filled up with food, I need not worry.  Think of the businesses that immediately laid off their employees to make sure there would be a business on the other side of this plague.  I am not my brother’s or sister’s keeper.  I cannot lose my business; everything, every part of who I am is tied up in it.  And even consider those who have recklessly, and hatingly, put others at risk by going about their lives unconcerned that they might be carriers and exposing others.  I don’t care if I get it.  It won’t kill me.  Who cares about others?  We eat, drink, and are marry, for tomorrow we may die.  I am, of course, using extreme versions of interior dialogues, but these are extreme times and need more focus.

     Our Gospel lesson, likewise, is probably read with a different perspective than the last time most of us heard it.  It is a famous passage and marks the sixth wondrous sign in John’s Gospel of Jesus’ authority.  Your Bible probably calls it something along the lines of “the raising of Lazarus from the dead.”  Lazarus, we know, is the brother of Mary and Martha.  The three have been disciples of Jesus for some time.  Jesus’ obvious affection for them makes His delay to go to them seem all the more curious.  His delay allows Lazarus to die, but even the sisters tell Jesus they know that had He been there, their brother would still be alive.

     John, of course, lets us know that Jesus has a purpose or purposes in the delay.  Jesus tells the disciples that Lazarus’ illness does not lead to death but to God’s glory.  After two days, He tells them it is time to go to the siblings now.  The disciples and apostles are obviously worried.  Those in authority, and those who did the will of those in authority in Judea, were trying to kill Him.  If He returns, He might be injured or killed!

     Jesus explains that He goes for Lazarus and their and our own sake.  Though they miss Jesus’ meaning initially, He tells them that Lazarus has died and that He must waken Lazarus.  Enigmatically to some, Jesus remarks that He is glad for their sakes that He was not there for Lazarus death, so that they may believe.  The apostles and disciples continue to argue for a bit, until Thomas, who gets the appellation of “Doubting” rather than “Courageous,” encourages them all to go with Jesus, that they may die with Him.

     Jesus arrives, we are told, four days after Lazarus’ death.  The four is significant to 1^st Century hearers because there was a belief among some Jews and among the Zoroastrians that the soul of the dead hovered over the body for three days.  Now, even that tenuous cord has been cut!  He is not, to use the words of Max the Miracle Worker, “mostly dead.”  Lazarus is all dead.

     Jesus arrives and Martha goes out to meet Him apart from the crowd of mourners.  Much has been written trying to tie this passage back to the story of Mary and Martha in the prior chapter.  I do not know that such ties are helpful.  Both women are mourning the loss of their brother, and both women believe that had Jesus been around when Lazarus fell ill, Lazarus would still be alive.  Martha greets Him before He enters the village and makes the simple statement that had Jesus been there, she knows Lazarus would not have died.  There is no recrimination, as some like to argue, though there is regret that Jesus was not around.  John records it simply as a statement that she believes the Lord does whatever Jesus asks. 

     Jesus tells Martha that her brother will rise again.  Missing His meaning, she knows that he will be raised with all of God’s people on the Last Day.  Jesus tells her that He is Resurrection and He is Life, that all that believe in Him, even though they die, will still live.  It was, no doubt, a hard teaching for Martha to hear.  Her brother had believed in Jesus, and he had died.  The “new normal” for her and her sister is only four days old.  The mourners have invaded their home to console them.  And the Master is talking about Resurrection and Life?  It would likely seem a bitter pill to swallow at that time.  But to Jesus’ question of whether she believes, Martha says she does.  She may not understand what is about to happen, but she believes Jesus is God’s Anointed and, more importantly, that He will will do whatever her Master asks.  No doubt Luke intended us to hear echoes of Peter’s confession in her own!

     Martha goes back to the house and tells her sister that the Master is here and wishes to speak with her.  Mary goes back outside the village to where Jesus met Martha on the road.  Like her sister, she believes that had Jesus been present when Lazarus fell ill, Lazarus would have been healed by God at Jesus’ request.  We learn also that the mourners think Mary is grief-stricken enough to go back to her brother’s tomb.  The see and hear her talking to the Master and are moved to tears.

     Much, of course, is made of professional mourners in the ANE.  There were people who mourned for money, who were hired out to set the atmosphere at the death of loved ones.  Such does not seem to be the case with this group, however.  At Mary’s faith in Jesus and her tears, the mourners also begin crying.  The sadness is confirmed in its genuineness by our Lord’s own spirit being moved and troubled.

     The word that translators render as “deeply moved” and “troubled” and “caused to mourn” is embrimaomai.  If you have attended a fair number of funerals at Advent, you have likely heard me speak of this word.  The word finds its way into three of the Gospels.  It is passive voice, to be sure, indicating that Jesus’ spirit is being acted upon by something else.  But is not a word of sadness.  In antiquity, it referred to something that caused a horse to snort.  Think of a horse getting ready to charge into battle, or a stallion angered that someone would dare ride him.  Idiomatically, it was applied to humans to describe rage, extreme anger, or fury.  Think of those times when you have been so angry that you were moved to tears, and you get an idea of how Jesus is described here.  The death of Lazarus causes him rage!  I’ll get back to this rage of our Lord in a moment.

     Jesus asks where Lazarus’ tomb is.  The mourners and Mary show Him.  In that most famous of short Bible verses that kids love to memorize in VBS or Sunday School, Jesus weeps.  As He stands there weeping, again our Lord is moved to snorting in rage like a warhorse or stallion.  He tells the crowd to roll the stone away.  They refuse.  Lazarus is truly dead.  Martha even tells Jesus that Lazarus’ body will not stink from decomposition.  Jesus reminds Martha of His question and her answer, Do you believe?

     The stone is rolled away.  Jesus prays aloud.  He knows, of course, that the Father always hears Him, but He tells the crowd that He is saying this all aloud for their sake, that they may know the Father has sent Him.

     Jesus calls in a loud voice for Lazarus to come out.  And even the dead must obey His command!  The dead man comes out, wrapped in linen strips with the cloth around his face.  Jesus instructs them to remove the burial materials and let him go.

     Is there a more timely story for us to consider during this plague?  I expect that many of us are reading it far differently than we have in many years.  Those who served in one of our wars and lost comrades in battle likely always read this as God would have us read it, but what about those of us for whom death is something in the distance, far off?  How has our perspective and urgency changed as a result of our new normal?  Are we fearful we might catch the plague and die?  Are we fearful that loved ones may catch the plague and die?  Have we lost our identity because our work has dried up?  Are we too worried that our barns, which we have all torn down and rebuilt time and time again, are not big enough to allow our bodies and souls to relax in this time of social distancing?  Are we worried, because of social distancing, that no one cares?  Are we afraid we are alone?

     I wrote a moment ago that I would get back to the snort.  Why, do you think, do the Gospel writers record that Jesus snorts in rage or fury?  What drives Him to such strong, powerful emotion?  In our story today, does it seem to be the sisters, Martha and Mary?  The mourners?  The Sanhedrin, who, although we do not read that part of the story today, decide it is better for one man to die that for the nation to suffer?  The taunters, who wonder aloud that Jesus has done incredible signs but was not around for this man for whom He cared deeply?  At every sign, people have believed Jesus, reacted indifferently, asked for more, or openly fought.  What makes Jesus snort in rage at this time?  What is different?

     Death.

     Jesus, of course, was present at creation.  He knows that death was not part of God’s plan in the Garden.  We were not supposed to experience separation from Him nor experience death.  Had Jesus prayed those words allowed in the Garden before the distrustful fruit tasting, Adam and Eve would have heard the intimate communication between the Father and the Son.  Now, because of our sin, we are no longer attuned to our Lord’s voice nor to His purposes.  What’s worse, because of that distrust we now experience something that was not good when the Lord created all that is, seen and unseen.  Of all that God created and intended and desired for us, death was the complete opposite, an anathema to “In the beginning,” if you will.

     Time and time and time again He called us back to Him.  How did most of our spiritual ancestors respond?  Eventually, He came down from heaven.  He lived as we could not, trusting and obedient, showing us the heart and mind of God.  How did we thank Him for this work among us?  We put Him to death on a Cross!  But even that did not surprise Him or His Father in heaven.  The conspiracy of the Sanhedrin was expected.  But what they intended for evil, He used for His own redemptive purpose.  He paid the price for all our sins.  He took the death, the eternal separation from God, into Himself that we need not experience it ourselves.  He who knew no sin became sin.  Now, when the Father gazes upon us who believe in Jesus, He sees His Son in us and us in His Son.

      Like any loving Father or Mother, He does not want us to suffer.  Oh, He can use our suffering redemptively, to be sure, but God’s not sitting up there saying “I think Johnny needs a plague, to get his attention,” “I think Susie needs cancer so she will listen to Me,” or “I think the world needs a plague so it can re-evaluate its priorities and return to Me.”  Those all may be redemptive outcomes of bad situations, but those are not the situations forced upon us by a god who metes good and evil like Zeus or one of the other ANE gods or goddesses.  No!  He wants only good things for us!  He only wants what is best for us!  He is THE loving Father.  Apart from Him, none of us would even know what a loving father is.  And the thing that no loving father would ever want, naturally, is the death of a loved son or daughter!

     It is no wonder, then, that He snorts in rage at death.  This was not part of creation.  This was not His intent.  This was not good.  We were favored in His creation.  But, like any willful children, we persisted in our own wants, our own desires, our own blindness, our own sin.  Those sins, both individually and corporately, had a horrible effect on the world, natural disasters and death, chief among them.  We may be able to predict natural disasters in some cases, but we cannot stop them.  At best we survive tornadoes and hurricanes and earthquakes, but we cannot even slow their advance or dent their magnitudes.

     It is often in those natural disasters that we feel our true human impotence.  It is only is those experiences of raw power or insurmountable odds that we begin to understand our mortality, that we can do nothing to save ourselves.  We can be the smartest, fairest, and all the other “est” personalities, but that ends with our death.  We can be the most powerful, the strongest, the richest, the whetever, but it ends with our death.  And, what can we do about death?

     Lent, of course, is a season in which you and I are called by the Church into a season of introspection.  We are called to consider our sins, our rejections of our Lord’s instruction, and realize our impotence.  In many ways, as social media has noted, the plague has made this Lent the lentiest ever lented.  Humanity around the world is terrified by a virus that it cannot see.  It is inconsequential in size, like many of our sins; but left untreated, its complications lead to death.  And just as we see in this story, we see in the world around us all the swirl of emotions that arise from the realization of impotence, the grief of loss, the desire to live, and the fear of isolation.

     While each of those emotion expressed in this story by the characters are appropriate, they are not my primary focus.  No, Martha and Mary should mourn the loss of their beloved brother.  The mourners who join them should also be likewise saddened by his death.  Fears, anxieties, disbelief, and even rejection are all in play in this pericope.  And Jesus does not condemn those.  Not once does He say “I intended for Lazarus to die,” “If you are a good disciple, you won’t mourn at death,” or “if you are a good disciple, you will have no anxieties.”  None of that nonsense that we hear in bad pulpits is in play.

     What matters to Jesus is whether we believe.  Do we believe He is Resurrection and Life?  Do we believe He has the power to call Lazarus or us from the grave?  Is He Who He says He is, the Anointed, the God Incarnate Man Divine, the Christ?  Do we?  Because, brothers and sisters, there is no more important question put to humanity and no more important answer given by us.  It is a simple “yes” or “no” question, but its affect on us is profound.  “No” leaves us left to face our fears, our impotence, and our inability to truly repair any damage we have done or caused, alone.  “No” says we choose separation from God over intimacy.

     Ah, but a “yes,” a “yes” is that invitation to intimacy.  A “yes” acknowledges that He is Who He says He is, that He has the power the saints before us claim to redeem all things, and, most importantly, a “yes” means we are invited into a relationship that is pointed to true intimacy with the One Who made us, shaped us, breathed life into us!  A “yes” means we find Someone who knows our hearts, our hurts, our fears, our lashing out’s, and even our unbelief, and still He loves us.  A “yes” means we can face life’s challenges and death’s shadowy valleys, confident that He will never abandon us!

     The application in the time of plague is rather obvious.  Most of us are living deeply in that tension between the already and the not yet.  We are obeying the civil authorities, and in the process loving our neighbors as ourselves, even as we remind ourselves that this is not our home.  Our home, eternal in the heavens, is with Him, who despite knowing our weaknesses and infirmities more completely than anyone else ever, still loved you and loved me enough to die for you and for me.  Those of us who are at less risk of severe reaction to the plague are helping others by picking up groceries and medicines, by checking in on our brothers and sisters who are alone to remind them they are not alone, and even by checking in on those of us confined with big families are not killing each other!  Some of us are using this new down time to learn more about God, to commit to deeper, prayerful intimacy, and even meditating on His Word and promises.  Some of us are called to the frontlines of this war against an unseen enemy as healers, taking on a risk that most of us, thankfully are not.  Some of us have been called to the ancillary battles against hunger, against isolation, against hopelessness.  Our Lord asks us to engage in those battles trusting, believing that He is Resurrection and He is Life, that nothing, no power in heaven or on earth can separate us from Him and His love once we’ve chosen Him, not even death!  Better still, He who knows everything about us knows everything about us.  When we hear the whisper of the Enemy and wonder if anyone cares, we know our Lord cares.  When we feel fear, we know our Lord is there to console us.  And when we feel weak and insufficient to the cause, we know that He is there, empowering us through His Spirit, to accomplish those things He has given us to do.  When we become so focused on the here and now, He is there to remind us of His perspective, that of eternity, and of His redemptive power, which knows no limits.

     I began this note with a reminder that it is the sixth sign and wonder recounted by John that attests to authority and power of Christ Jesus.  John famously ends his account with a reminder that our Lord did these things and taught these things and that they are true.  He reminds us all who come after, though, that Jesus did many other things, so many that, if they were all written down, the world could not contain all those books.  Today, and every day, our Lord asks us whether we believe, whether we trust Him, and then gives us work to do.  The results of our labors, the results of our sweat, our tears, our straining effort, become a part of that testimony that world cannot contain.  We may not see the results, we may not even value the labor He has assigned us.  Heck, we may not even live to see its significance.  Thankfully and mercifully, He values that work, even as He values each one of us.  Thankfully and mercifully, all He asks is that we believe; and He will take care of everything else, and especially us.  But others see and hear.  Our loved ones, our neighbors, even the strangers we meet see and listen to us.  Pray that they find in each of us the faith of a disciple, that they might be encouraged to seek Him who seeks to save all, not just in a time and place of plague, but in all times and in all places.

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†