Opening graves.
That’s the thematic link
between our passage from Ezekiel
and this very long passage from John
in which Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.
Ezekiel writes as a prophet in exile
a priest likely taken away from Jerusalem
10 years before most of his countryfolk.
Jesus tarries in his return to Bethany
for God’s glory,
so that the Son of God
may be glorified through it.
The Spirit of God drives Ezekiel,
transports him physically or in a vision
to a valley of bones long dead.
Jesus knows that Lazarus has died
and then takes his disciples to Bethany.
Confronting the reality of death,
the reality of Satan’s dominion in this world,
moves Jesus to anguish
even as he prepares for his own death.
His friend Lazarus is dead,
and his friends Mary and Martha
are grieving their brother’s death.
John records specific, human details
as he tells us the story
of Jesus coming to Lazarus’ death.
Mary and others are weeping.
There’s a solid cave
with a solid stone.
Having been in the ground four days
with no particular embalming
there is a fear that Lazarus will smell.
While Lazarus is in a grave,
the bones are on the surface.
They’ve escaped their early bonds
and are bleached and dry.
They’ve been dead a long time.
There is no more smell to them,
there is no solid stone in the way.
Just the ravages of time
keep them from being
who they were.
The God who we worship, however,
is in the business of opening graves
and bringing the dead back to life.
While many of you, many of us
have memories of the focus of next Sunday
being on palms and palm processions,
in its earliest observances in Jerusalem
the Sunday before Easter
focused on the Passion.
It serves as a hinge
between Lent and Holy Week.
Going from “hosannah” to “crucify him”
reminds us ourselves
just how fickle we are,
all of us.
This Sunday before Passion Sunday
focuses on raising the dead.
Before the Church hears
about Jesus’ death
we hear about God opening graves
breathing life
into long-dead bones
with long-dead muscle, sinew, and skin.
As we come to the end of Lent
we hear about opening graves
because that’s what Lent is about.
We’re preparing to open the graves
when Arya and Aydin are baptized during Eastertide.
They’ll go into the tomb with Jesus
and be born into new life,
resurrected life
birthed into the full fellowship of the church.
It’s been three years
since everything shut down.
That’s weighing on me,
when I actually look at a calendar
and get beyond the essential busy and the mundane.
When we look at what feel like
objective metrics –
average Sunday attendance,
pledge and plate,
budget deficits –
I kind of feel like we’re in a tomb.
I can feel like things are dying.
As we come to close this Lent
this season of learning again to live like Jesus
being drawn back to the font,
I’m drawn back to the essential message
of this Sunday, of baptism, eucharist, and Easter:
The God who we worship,
is in the business of opening graves
and bringing the dead back to life.
While we as Christians
easily see Ezekiel’s prophesy
as about resurrection
his first hearers likely took a more allegorical view.
The people of Israel
were scattered and oppressed.
God is going to restore them from the four winds
and present them as a legion.
An organized group of people,
and also a multitude of them.
Bones that started on the surface
dry and bleached
are going to be raised from the grave.
Opening graves.
That’s the thematic link
between our passage from Ezekiel
and this very long passage from John
in which Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.
Jesus, who is one with the Father
and the Holy Spirit
prays outside Lazarus’ tomb.
Jesus doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.
Jesus wants to point to God’s acts of redemption
and show those gathered around
that he acts for salvation.
Jesus calls out to Lazarus,
“Come out!”
“The dead man came out,
his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth,
and his face wrapped in a cloth.”
Jesus, who has just wept over his friend’s death
has power over death!
He was not around while Lazarus was sick,
but that was not the end of Lazarus’ life,
nor do we believe that death
is the end of our lives.
When we look at what feel like
objective metrics –
average Sunday attendance,
pledge and plate,
budget deficits –
I kind of feel like we’re in a tomb.
I can feel like things are dying.
Then I hear these passages
passages about God who is in the business
of opening tombs.
God doesn’t open tombs
because of how good we are.
God doesn’t open tombs
to work us back into them,
to work us literally into the ground.
God opens tombs because of God’s love for us
and God’s love for the whole of God’s creation.
Things might feel like they’re dying
here and there,
but death is a part of resurrection.
Jesus’ didn’t rush to save Lazarus’ life
so that he could show the disciples
he has power over death.
We have new life springing up around us.
The Bishop’s Committee
had an excellent retreat yesterday
planning for how we continue
coming out of the pandemic.
Evening Prayer and Potluck,
Bible study,
and Anti-racism book study
are all signs of resurrection and new life
born out of the death of being able to gather.
We’ve had new people.
Not just visitors
but regular attendees
even if they’ve since had to move.
Opening graves.
That’s the thematic link
between our passage from Ezekiel
and this very long passage from John
in which Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.
The God whom we worship
is in the business opening graves
and bringing the dead back to life. Amen.