Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans
8:6-11; John 11:1-45
Death, danger and despair are everywhere it seems.
We are riveted by reports of increasing cases of
sickness, chaos and uncertainty. The news from New
York City, Seattle and Chicago seems closer and more
pertinent than that from Bloomington or Springfield.
The coronavirus has halted business as usual.
Millions are out of work with no idea for how long.
Some are wondering if the measures to stop the viral
spread will be worse than the disease itself. Death,
danger and despair are front and center in our
readings this morning. Ezekiel is shown a valley
littered with dry bones. Not just a few but so many
they are uncountable. So many bleached and dry bones
meant the bodies were left to rot in the sun and
mutilated by animal scavengers. Jewish funerals
called for bodies to be buried reverently either in
a tomb or a dug grave. A massive boneyard is a
sickening and abhorrent affront to what is right.
Those who died are anonymous and unremembered. In
this valley, death is pervasive and all
encompassing. St. Paul equates flesh with death. In
this time when a hug or a handshake is considered
dangerous this imagery is potent. A cough or a
sneeze ignites fear. We guard against physical
contact lest we cause illness or receive it. The
members of the church are scattered because our
flesh makes us afraid. Finally, the land of Judea
means death for Jesus. The town of Bethany, where
Mary, Martha and Lazarus kept their home, is only
two miles from Jerusalem. Jerusalem is the seat of
power. Jesus has openly and scathingly denounced the
powerful and they seek their revenge. In the
countryside, Jesus is protected, the powers that be
cannot harm him there lest the people rise up in
revolt. In Jerusalem though, Jesus is vulnerable.
His disciples know it too. At first, they try to
dissuade him from leaving safety but seeing his
resolve, they agree to travel with him. Death,
danger and despair are the watchwords of the day.
But look at two other texts we have today. Psalm 130
starts with a plea from out of the depths to the
Lord. We understand the depths to be death, danger
and despair. But the one crying out is full of hope,
even certainty, that the Lord will hear his voice
and come to his aid. I wait for the Lord; my soul
waits for him; in his word is my hope. The crier
seeks more than mere comfort in his affliction. He
states that in the Lord, there is plenteous
redemption. Redemption is restoration and it is
abundant and extravagant. The Collect I read earlier
seems to be written for just this time with its
language of swift and varied changes of the world.
Yet it too does not stop there, it petitions God to
rework our unruly wills and affections, to grant us
the grace needed to do his will and to point us
toward Jesus Christ who is the true joy of life.
It’s full of hope.
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Ezekiel watched as the process of
decomposition was reversed, like a rewinding movie.
Bones came together in the right order, then sinews
joined them and flesh covered that and skin made the
bodies restored. Then God gave his breath to the
bodies and they lived! They were redeemed! That
breath of God is the Spirit that Paul commends to
us. Paul is not teaching that our bodies are bad,
just that the desires of the body are incomplete and
ultimately unfulfilling. We need the breath of God,
the Holy Spirit, to be fully alive. There is our
hope. Jesus raised Lazarus from a four-day death to
the amazement of all who witnessed it. Many people
believed that he was the Son of God by this act. But
that act ultimately led to the arrest, torture and
death of Jesus at the hands of his enemies on the
cross. Three days later, the breath of God raised
Jesus from the dead but not like Lazarus who would
perish again but with a resurrected body that was
forever immune to the power of death. By retelling
these stories am I expecting that the breath of God
will render the coronavirus inert? No, I don’t
expect that. Am I telling you that the bodies of
true Christians are immune to infection? No, I do
not believe that is true either. What I am saying
though is that the power of death, danger and
despair is not the last word. God works through
modern technology and medical science. There is a
very good chance that a vaccine will be found – not
next week – but our lives will not be like this
forever. God works through acts of kindness. This
week I plan to write some checks for gift cards to a
few of the small restaurants in Lincoln. It will
help them make payroll for a little longer. I have
been calling priests in the diocese and the most
isolated members of Trinity so they know that we
continue to be connected even while we are
physically separated. I know many of you have done
similar things. We do these because we are
resurrection people, not death, danger and despair
people. We see hope and redemption where the rest of
the world sees dry bones. We see a path forward
through the danger because we know there is life on
the other side. We inhale deeply of the breath of
God because that is the source of all joy. Let’s be
disciples of the One who died and rose again for us.
Dark times need rays of light. Amen |
