John
11:32-44 with Revelation 21:1-6a
Death and Resurrection; these are
topics that we seem to reserve for the Easter season. Even though we are a resurrection people,
even though ours is a faith that claims life in the face of death, it seems
like we only share that story with others once a year. I am not sure if that is because we don’t
really believe the story, because we are afraid or ashamed of the story, or
because we don’t really think the story of resurrection applies to us and our
loved ones. In the world we live in,
death certainly plays a leading role.
Stories of new life are not front page news, unless of course we are
talking about the Royals.
Today we are celebrating All Saints
Day. This is a time to gather together
and remember the members and friends of our congregation who have died this
past year. As with any year in the life
of the church, there have been some profound losses from among our ranks. There are voids in these pews this morning,
places where we look for loved ones and find ourselves once again surprised
that they are not here.
When we gather for All Saints we
remember not only the deaths of this most recent year, but of all the years in
the life of the church. Generations have
come and gone from these pews. Many have
gone ahead of us to join the great cloud of witnesses now with our Lord in
heaven. Similarly in our own lives,
generations have come and gone. We all
have loved ones who created a way for us in this world and are no longer
here. The sense of loss runs deep.
All Saints Sunday isn’t just about the
friends and family we know personally, it is also about all the people on this
earth who live and who die. This year
when I am thinking of those who have died, I find myself continually drawn back
to the migrant crises in Europe. I find
myself considering the children whose parents place them in boats and say a
prayer that somehow, someday, they will arrive on safer shores. Over half the migrants are children. What must home be like for those who would
send their children off in such a way?
There is a poem circling the internet
these days by Warsan Shire. He writes “No
one leaves home, unless home is the mouth of a shark. You only run for the border when you see the
whole city running as well. You have to
understand that no one puts their children in boats, unless the boats and the
sea are safer than the land.” This All
Saints Day, I am thinking of Aylan Kurdi, the 3 year old Syrian child whose
body was found on the shores of Turkey.
This All Saints Day, I am thinking of those lost children and grieving
parents.
What can we say in the face of such
suffering? How can we preach life while
we are surrounded by death? These are
the questions I imagine folks asked of Jesus as he came to the tomb of Lazarus
that morning. It had been four days
since the death of Lazarus. This is the
time, as many of you know, when the shock of death starts wearing off and the
numbness of depression starts settling in.
This is the time when you begin to truly consider the rest of your life
without your beloved.
Jesus comes to the tomb and Mary is
overcome with grief. She falls at his
feet and weeps. She wishes for life, she
wishes for healing, she wishes Jesus had come earlier with his resurrection
presence. But now it is too late. The tomb is sealed and the body has begun to
decay. Now there is nothing but death.
Jesus too, is full of grief. He weeps at the sight of Mary. He weeps at the sorrow he feels himself for
the death of Lazarus. I am convinced
that Jesus weeps with us in death as well.
Jesus weeps for Terrence and Ray.
Jesus weeps for Les and for Pat. Jesus
weeps for Avery, Elaine, and Kathryn. Jesus
weeps for the children on the beach, and the children who never even made it to
the boats. Jesus weeps for the
generations that have gone before. Jesus
joins us in our grief and Jesus weeps for what has been lost.
Jesus then decides to do something
about it. He calls for the stone to be
removed. The sisters and friends of
Lazarus protest. Why disturb what is
already settled? Like Martha, we believe
in the power of resurrection. But we do
not really believe that it is possible for us today. Jesus suffers, he cries out, he is greatly
disturbed, and then he commands.
“Lazarus, come out!” Resurrection
is suddenly reality, and Jesus demands that those gathered “Unbind him, and let
him go.”
Our faith challenges us to believe
this story. It challenges us to believe
in the power of life over death. It
challenges us to confess resurrection.
And it challenges us to admit that death is merely an interruption of
life, and not a finality. Our faith
challenges us to unbind the power of death in our lives and to let it go.
Our reading from Revelation supports
this vision. I see Jesus at the tomb of
Lazarus when we read that the home of God is among mortals and that God will
wipe every tear from their eyes. The
promise of resurrection is here in the new heaven and new earth; a place where
death will be no more, mourning and crying will be no more. God is all things: Alpha and Omega, death and
life. And God is making all things
new. This is the hope we cling to in the
midst of crises and death. This is the
promise of resurrection power. This is
Easter!
The life of faith is a life in the
midst of death. All of us have
experienced loss and all of us will go forward into death ourselves. But Jesus himself goes with us. That is what we gather together to celebrate
at the table. Here at the table we
remember a God who weeps with us, as well as a God who wipes away tears. Here we remember a God who goes forward into
death, as well as a God who leads the way into new life. This is the story we tell; death and life
woven together, Alpha and Omega for all eternity.
Today we gather as a family, which is
fitting as we celebrate the great family of faith this All Saints day. We think of generations before us who have
gathered at this table in faith. We
think of preachers before us who have proclaimed the words of new life, and who
have reminded each other of the promise of resurrection. We remember those who are not at the table
this year. And we remember the great
cloud of witnesses who will gather at the table in the kingdom to come. Here at the table we boldly face death, and
here at the table we each claim the promise of new life for ourselves and for
our loved ones.
Today we are challenged to unbind the
power of death and to let it go. We are
challenged to boldly enter the world each day proclaiming a message of
Easter. Ours is a God of
resurrection. Ours is a God who brings
life right into the midst of death. Ours
is a God who cannot be stopped by our excuses and our tears, but who boldly
calls us out of tombs and into new life.
Thanks be to God for all the Saints
that have led the way into death for us.
And thanks be to God for the promised day when we will join together
with them in resurrected life to feast at the table with our king in all his
glory. May we truly believe in this
faith that we confess. May we truly
believe in life after death. Amen.
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