April 2, 2017 Lent 5

The theme in today’s readings is Resurrection, even if it seems a bit too early for that. Easter isn’t for another two weeks; isn’t the lectionary rushing things along a little? Jesus hasn’t even died yet how can we be talking resurrection already?

A partial answer is the resurrection in the readings today is the resurrection that comes to all of us through Jesus. And yes, I can hear my Hebrew Bible professor chiding me that Ezekiel lived thousands of years before Jesus, that the original context of this reading is about how God will restore the people of Israel after their long time of suffering war and Exile, a promise to a people who thought they were dead and buried that they will be returned to their own land and given an opportunity to start over.

Ezekiel has a vision, in which he is standing, looking out over the valley of dry bones. Try to imagine what he is seeing, a scene straight out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Why were there so many bones there? Was it the site of an ancient battlefield, and the bones are those of dead warriors? Was it the remnant of a long-dead society, once thriving and alive? Was there a plague that wiped people out faster than they could be buried? Ezekiel doesn’t know, or doesn’t say. All he can see are the bones. Their dryness. There is no marrow left in them—long before anyone knew about DNA and all that, Ezekiel knew that bones that are so old that even the marrow is gone are bones that are dead, dead, dead. No evidence of life left.

This is the setting when God asks that peculiar question, “Mortal, can these bones live?”

These are the bones Ezekiel sees when he replies back, “O Lord GOD, you know.”

Does he say it with hope—you know what you can do, God?

Or is it a sadly resigned, I can’t even bring myself to say it, “You know.” Is Ezekiel’s response a sign of his faith or his despair?

Without waiting to find out, God moves to the next step.

“Prophesy to the bones.”

If people didn’t already think Ezekiel was crazy, that would have clinched it. I mean, think about it—this kook is out there shouting at bones, declaring that God will make them live again.

But Ezekiel does what God tells him to do, no matter how foolish it appears. He goes out and shouts at the bones that there is hope, there is life ahead of them. He prophesies to the bones, and the bones respond. They come together into skeletons, then they are covered with sinews, then muscles, then skin…the bones aren’t just bones anymore. They are bodies.

But there is one little problem. They aren’t breathing. They aren’t alive.  Is it just some heartless trick? Make him go out and shout at the bones, have this amazing thing happen, and then not have it follow through?

No. It was just a reminder that nothing can be complete until God’s holy breath, the Spirit of life, breathes into them. Ezekiel wasn’t doing some magic trick; it was the power of God at work to renew God’s people. God will do what it takes to reclaim and restore God’s people—and nothing, not even death, can thwart God’s desire for them.

This is a story from the Hebrew Scriptures, the Old Testament. It is a story, a message that belongs to and brings hope to Jews without any mention of the Messiah. I can hear that Hebrew Bible professor insisting, “Jesus is not a character in this story!”

But as Christians, we can also—no, MUST also—read it through the lens of Jesus Christ. And to do so, we hear it today, along with the story of Lazarus. Another story that doesn’t deny the harder truths of life—change, illness, loss, death—but also doesn’t give in to despair in the face of those harsh realities.

And it does seem quite harsh at first. Lazarus is sick, dangerously sick. Mary and Martha send a message to Jesus. They don’t explicitly ask him to come, but is there really any doubt that that was what they wanted? They wanted Jesus to come to them, to be with them as they go through this horrible ordeal.

And Jesus doesn’t go to them. Not right away. Not in time. This is not the way a Jesus story is supposed to go. Jesus is supposed to show up and make everything all better, right? But Jesus stays where he is. He waits two days before he sets out.

Some commentaries want to give Jesus an out. He couldn’t go back to Judea, he was in danger—the plot to take his life was already being hatched. Jesus was practicing self-preservation; surely the sisters would understand that, right? Surely they wouldn’t want to risk losing HIM as well as their brother, right?

But no. They are scared and heartbroken and they JUST WANT JESUS. Because if Jesus had been there, their brother wouldn’t have died. BOTH of them say it. Both of them have that much confidence in him, in his power to set things right, to protect them from pain and sadness. To heal even the worst sickness.

But Jesus doesn’t come. Jesus stays away. Jesus. Lets. Him. Die.

Here’s the hard truth of life. People die. Things change. Tectonic plates shift and the earth quakes and people suffer. A cell mutates and replicates, and a person gets cancer.  Nothing stays the same. Jesus doesn’t show up on our schedule or do what we want him to do when we want him to do it.

But—Jesus DOES show up. And Jesus does make things better, eventually. Yes, Mary and Martha had all those days of grief—the days when Lazarus was sick and they still held onto the hope that Jesus would arrive; the days after Lazarus died when they had to deal not only with their sorrow over their brother but their disappointment in their friend. Mary and Martha experience all the pain of loss. Jesus didn’t keep them from that.

But Jesus didn’t leave them in that, either. Jesus did show up. He showed up in their sorrow, and showed them that there is life beyond death, joy beyond pain. Hope beyond loss. Mortal, can these bones live? Lord, you are the one who knows.

The Lord does know. Jesus shares in their sorrow and grief and loss. He weeps. And then he changes the narrative.

Take away the stone, he tells them. Martha comes up with a very reasonable argument about why that should not happen—it’s going to stink to reopen that tomb. Better to just resign ourselves to the loss and walk away.

No, Jesus says. NO. You don’t have to stay stuck in the grief, you don’t have to resign yourselves to the power of death. Have the courage to do what Jesus asks—even when it’s hard, even if there will be some unpleasantness. Prophesy to the bones—and see what happens. Believe that when Jesus shows up and promises to reveal God’s glory in the moment, something can happen. The Holy Spirit will blow in. The bones will live. Have the courage to roll away the stone and see what happens next.

Jesus starts by praying—dare I say he prophesies to the breath? He prays that his faith will reveal the glory and power of God. Then he shouts, “Lazarus, come out!”

Now think about this for a minute! Does Jesus walk into the tomb, lay his hands on Lazarus and force him to his feet? NO! He stays outside the tomb and calls to Lazarus. He issues an invitation: come out! Come out from the tomb! Leave death behind!

Lazarus has to respond. He has to accept the invitation to come out into the sun. He has to cooperate with this new thing Jesus is doing.

And not just Lazarus. Jesus turns to the people around and says, “Unbind him, and let him go.” He lays a responsibility on all the people there to participate in the new life awaiting Lazarus, to be a part of this incredible story. They can’t just stand back and watch. They have to get their hands dirty, setting him free to live this new life God has offered him. They have to receive the gift Jesus is offering—even if they aren’t quite sure what to do with this man who probably still doesn’t smell all that great.

We are two weeks away from Easter. Lent is almost over. But it’s not too late to enter into the Lenten journey, not too late to call out to God from the depths, to wait for God to show up and make a difference. Never too late—and apparently never too soon—for Resurrection.

How might God be calling on you to cooperate with the work of the Spirit? What dead dry bones need you to prophesy a word of life and hope to them? What tombs is Jesus calling you out of? Who needs your help in breaking free of death’s binding cloths?

Mortals, can these bones live? Lord, you are the one who knows.

Amen.