Unbinding the Story & Our Limits

Scripture: John 11: 1-45
Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “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 said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

—

I begin with a confession. This is a text I typically avoid. It shows up every three years in the Lectionary (the shared cycle of readings often used in Mainline Churches) and I either didn’t have to preach or picked something else. Jesus confronts death, it is visceral, it smells and it is strange. Jesus annoys me in this text, waiting two days to show up when Martha asked him for help - and that kind of attitude just doesn’t fly with the values Sandy and Jim McKnight instilled in my soul. Jesus is human in this text in the most difficult ways, and divine in ways that are particularly challenging for our modern sensibilities around miracle healings and bodily resurrections. I don’t like it and it just doesn’t fit with what some folks would call my “low Christology,” which is to say that I lean a little more into Jesus’ humanity and am a little less interested in his Magical-ly, miracle-ly activities. His humanity is powerful, and when humanity is most loving and most “for others” it is divine. And we are called to try to follow that way…even if the path is challenging. 

My Christology, thanks to Rev. Susan Davies, has its own metaphor. It’s less brick and more doily (you know the thing your Grandma might have had around the house?). It’s woven, it’s carefully crafted, it’s structured and patterned and strong - but it has open space, you can see the light through it, and it has a little give when you need it. Given that theological framework, it would be really easy for me to invite you into this text only as metaphor. The Gospel of John is a mystical work; it is filled with metaphor and rich with nuance. So we can look to this text and think about what it means when Jesus says, “Lazarus, come out.” We can and should imagine ourselves in the story, that’s why it’s there and we can explore what binds us and what binds our neighbors, just as Lazarus was bound. And we can imagine our work in unbinding - pulling the wrapping of death from our neighbors in love. We can and should do all of this, but we should probably keep in mind that this is why they kill Jesus; and I just don’t think metaphors alone get you executed.

In the Gospel of John, this moment is why they kill Jesus. It is not because of a disruptive moment at the Temple in preparation of the Passover like the other Gospels, it is this moment. Jesus raises Lazarus and people believe; people see something and they experience something. It is so powerful that they run to tell the authorities, who debate the next steps. Ultimately the leaders will decide, “It is better for one man to die” than the whole community face complete destruction by Rome. I imagine if we lived with the daily brutality of the Roman Empire, we probably wouldn’t disagree. This moment and these words, “Lazarus, come out” are the hinge of the whole Gospel; this narrative is at the very center. It is the clarity of what word made flesh can mean. Jesus’ ministry is filled with powerful metaphors and parables, teachings and stories - but it is always felt, lived and practiced. It applies to life. In Luke, he proclaimed he came to bring recovery of sight and release of the captives and the year of our Lord’s favor. This is what he does here. Jesus fed people and touched folks that no one was supposed to touch; his work is tangible and every day. We modern folks look at the miracles of the ancient world and often assume it can’t be true like we are somehow smarter and they don’t really understand science. But something is happening; temples have similar healing miracles and we shouldn’t assume that ancient people are dumb, like they can’t tell the difference between sickness and health, or between life and death. I think it helps us to imagine Jesus and his contemporaries have a different technology and we maybe don’t have to understand the method as much as why it matters. The piece of the story that we need to pick up on is that Jesus brought healing to everyone, not just the folks who had the money or connections in the Temples. This miracle or sign is particularly heavy, even in the ancient world - that’s why it’s such a big deal. Healings and signs like this are ways people pointed to a leader and said, “That guy is important.” Folks around Jesus didn’t look at this sign and ask for the logistics, they looked at it with a heart for the question of So What. 

So what does it offer us? The Gospel of John is offering us something tangible, word made flesh, and we are meant to learn to be a part of it, to offer it ourselves. The disciples, notorious for not getting it and needing Jesus to teach the lesson again have some pretty good points at the beginning of the chapter. They remind Jesus that returning to Bethany is risky; last time he was nearly stoned…and this isn’t Denver or the 1960’s. This part of the story closes with Thomas, before he misses one meeting and asks one question only to be branded ‘Doubting Thomas’ for 2000+ years. Thomas says, “Let us go that we may die with him.” Jesus has explained the significance he anticipates in this moment with Lazarus and reading Thomas’ comment I wonder if he is grasping the possibility of resurrection with Lazarus or if he is honing in on how dangerous it is to follow Jesus. I leave both to your pondering. By the end of the gospel of John, Jesus will name the disciples as friends, no longer the language of master and disciple, teacher and student, but friend. Word made flesh is intimate and relationship based. 

We see the power of relationships further in Bethany. If there was ever a place where Jesus felt at home, where he relaxed a little, shared the heavy burden and laughed with friends, it is in Bethany. It is near Jerusalem and likely that Mary, Martha and Lazarus are his hosts and hub for ministry. They are probably the people that “get” him and something akin to the family we often make out of friends. When Martha greets Jesus she greets him with the urgency of where have you been - not out of doubt but out of confidence in his gifts, knowing he could have saved her brother. Jesus responds with one of his significant I am statements, “I am the resurrection and I am life.” Martha hears this in the theology she already knows, a resurrection at the culmination of all things when we will be reconnected with her brother and that’s not what Jesus means when he says, “I am the resurrection and I am life.” Perhaps it’s one of those moments when we assume things about what we hear or perhaps she is in grief and listening is hard or perhaps this was just a part of what Jesus is seeking to teach. 

Mary will greet Jesus in her grief and Jesus finds his own; he becomes “greatly disturbed.” It could also mean angry, and this translation troubles me, because who is he angry with? Was he angry with his friends and their belief that if he had been there it would have saved their brother? Was he angry with himself? The community gathered? Maybe he is just feeling the fullness of the moment, the weight of his own grief and loss and the tension of life and death? He asks Martha to have the stone rolled away and she reminds him that Lazarus has been dead for four days. Really dead. After three days in his culture, there was an assumption the soul has left the body. Martha names the reality, it will stink. Jesus prays aloud thanking God for hearing him and just like the Divine speaks life into creation at the first creation story, Jesus says, “Lazarus come out.”  And he does. Resurrection isn’t a distant future, it is now. It is visible and we participate in it. 

One of my clergy colleagues, Rev. Adam Barlow-Thompson, gave a great sermon on this passage in January and invited us to imagine exactly how this happens, because Lazarus has to do the first part by himself and he is wrapped head to toe in cloth. Does he do the worm to get out, flinging his body toward the opening in the tomb? Does he pogo stick out? Does he roll? The mystery is there for us to uncover. But the community does the second part: Jesus sends the church to be the church and says unbind him. The community shows up to remove what bound him in the tomb, unraveling the limitations on his movement and his being. It is messy work and it probably doesn’t smell great, but it is the work Jesus asks of them and us. 

We are in a time and place where the tensions of life and death are before us like never before. Every day numbers of those tested, those infected and those who have died are flashed before us. The tension of death and in the face of this virus, death alone gives us pause, grief, and stress. We grieve all manner of changes and losses, we anticipate deeper grief still and we wish everything was different…or at least I do. But there are resurrection glimpses. We see videos of folks cheering for medical staff at their shift changes as though they are playing in Memorial Stadium. We read stories of China sending equipment to Italy with Italian Poetry by Seneca speaking to how we are all connected printed on the side of the crate. We see doctors and nurses flying into critical need like the cavalry joining the battle. We see teachers sending love to students they can’t see and working to bridge the technology gaps in thousands of ways. We see kids sending love notes to grandparents through chalk or letter and new babies bringing tears of joy to family on the other side of the window. We see CEO’s donating their annual salary for the frontline workers. We read the stories of big names with deep pockets making huge gifts and everyday folks giving even more so that the folks on the front lines have what they need. Doctors and engineers are MacGyver-ing ventilation machines because we are creative and we are resilient and we are determined to give life. People are staying home and staying connected, spring is emerging and new life, the force of creativity that swept across the waters springs forth from us even now. Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel it? It is tangible. Word made flesh, in all of our gifts and despite our differences we are wonderfully and beautifully made, all of us from every corner of the globe. Resurrection is here and now, we must open our eyes and listen for God’s nudge to participate. 

We are called to the work faith, living as Jesus lived, even when the story is messy and no-one is perfect and sometimes it stinks. But we are called anyway. We are called to bring healing to people, to unbind all the wrappings of death in our community and to live a resurrection faith. How will we emerge from this moment in history?  That is the work at hand. How will we care for one another in our grief and in our heartbreaking loss? How will we structure for the future, to lessen the gaps between those who have and those who have not? Will we balance disparity in wages, will we make internet a utility, and will we invest in universal healthcare in the sure and certain confidence that everyone is sacred? Will we plan for healing and prepare differently, learning through this moment and living into life and life abundant? 

May we have the courage. 
Amen

Questions for discussion:
• Where do I struggle with this text?
• What does it ask of me?
• What passions and gifts to I have that can help unbind those bound in the world around us?