Sermon for 4/10 - Lazarus Sunday

Most people are familiar with the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead in the gospel of John.  There is also the Lazarus Effect, a project to provide people, especially in rural and impoverished areas of Africa, with anti-retroviral drugs to treat AIDS which can restore them to life and health in an astounding way.  You can see the moving documentary on this, The Lazarus Effect, by clicking here.
There are parts of the Lazarus text, though, that ring in my ears.  Read the sermon below - see what sticks for you - but remember Christ is always breaking through with new life for you.

Vicar Brett Wilson – Lent 5A – John 11:1-45 – CELC Lancaster – 4/10/11


The psalmist writes, “out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice!”

Perhaps Mary and Martha sang this psalm in prayer as they grieved their brother Lazarus' illness and death.

The psalm continues . . . “My soul waits for the Lord, more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.”

In some ways, we are used to this concept of waiting for the Lord. We are familiar with phrases like “God's time is not our time.”

Then there is the waiting in today's gospel reading: “After having heard that Lazarus was ill, Jesus stayed two days longer . . .” Jesus tarried for two days . . . Jesus waited . . .

Picturing Jesus waiting stings for me. While Lazarus dies, Jesus waits from afar. This brings Martha's grieved, desperate reaction when she meets Jesus on the road - “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Perhaps you have felt similar pangs and longing at times of deep tragedy. Perhaps you have prayed, “God, where are you?” “Couldn't you have done something to stop this?” “Why did this happen?”
And sometimes, in the waiting, we, like Martha, cry. But Jesus, our savior, doesn't stay distant – Jesus comes and weeps too.

Jesus feels. Jesus identifies with us, even in our grief, even on the way to saving us on the cross. Jesus weeps for our own sadness, for our weakened hope. The scripture reads that Jesus is deeply moved.

Jesus' “I am” statement this week is in this conversation with Martha, when he says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Jesus is life, the word made flesh, and that includes really living with us, holding our hand and weeping with us in our grief.

Through the tears, the story continues, and with Jesus and Martha's conversation about resurrection, we get a hint of what is to come. What we have been waiting for. Because (I don't mean to spoil it for you) but this is a hint of what is to come at the tomb of Jesus. At times of loss and grief we feel we wait as the crowd did at the tomb. But the road to Easter must cross through the cemetery. So remember that we are always on our way, and even the lows of this story foreshadow our Easter joy.

The psalmist writes, “O Israel, wait for the LORD, for with the LORD there is steadfast love; with the LORD there is plenteous redemption.”

Redemption that comes first when Christ calls you by name. In baptism, God calls you by name and claims you forever as Christ's own. And at that tomb, with all the spectators, Jesus cries in a loud voice, “Lazarus!” “Come out!”

There's no motion of the hands, no dramatic crash of lightning, no magic, just words. God's Word. In the gospel of John, Jesus is the word made flesh, the resurrection and the life, and it is the word which brings forth life. It was God's word that brought forth life in creation, God's word through the prophet that brought together the dry bones for Ezekiel, and it is Jesus, the Word that calls back Lazarus from the grave.

It would be one thing to listen to this amazing narrative of Lazarus' story and just stand in wonder . . . but the spectators that day at the tomb did not have that luxury, and neither do we.

Jesus speaks the word, and our life is ultimately in God's hands. But Jesus gives the spectators a part to play in his life-giving action. You have a role to play too. As Lazarus walks out of the tomb, Jesus' words are not to him but to the spectators, to us - “unbind him, and let him go.”

Through Jesus God gives us a part in helping others to live. Jesus calls the whole community in to unbind their brother and help him to be freed from the grave. Jesus calls us in to free each other, to use our own hands to give life, to untie our brothers and sisters from the burdens and oppression that bind people up. How is God calling you to untie others and set them free?

I see you unbinding others, welcoming them back to life in feeding everyone at the community meals. I see you setting each other free when you forgive each other, when you work forward for the mission of God here at Christ Lutheran. God gives us life, by his own words, by his own dying on the cross, but he also gives us life through each other, through the ways we serve and reflect Christ's love.

One way you do that here at Christ Lutheran is through the partner relationship with the Itete Congregation in the Konde Diocese in Tanzania. By working to support each others' mission, we are untied and unbound, brought to richer life together. In Tanzania alone more than 1.3 million people have been diagnosed as HIV positive. On this “Lazarus Sunday,” churches across the world reflect on how we have and can continue to unbind people through relief and health care. For AIDS patients, anti-retroviral drugs can provide life-restoring health. They can bring back people whose bodies have been rocked by the illness to skeletal frames, and restore them to health and fill out their frames and add years and quality to their lives. The Christian churches, including the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania, are at the forefront of this effort, in providing supplies, medical clinics, hospice care, and general support. Jesus raises us to new life, and in doing so gives us a role to play to use our own hands, our own skills, in being a part of the freeing, life-giving power of God.

Today we get a glimpse of Easter's light, foreshadowed when Lazarus emerges from the tomb. Jesus waited, continues the story to cry with you, raise you to new life, and call you to help untie and free others. So like those who wait for the morning, we wait for Easter, and glimpse rays of light peeking into our lives that shine God’s love and life for us.  Amen.