Sermon: 31st October 2009 - John 11:32-44

Last night we were in St Albans and witnessed the Halloween celebrations that were taking place in the White Hart Inn, a 600 year old public house famous for its ghosts, and for being the place where William Hogarth drew Lord Lovat - the last person to be beheaded in Britain - in 1746. It was long enough ago, and far enough away to have become entertainment rather than personal tragedy for those dressed in black and orange with ghoulish make-up, so was a cause for entertainment.
Closer to our own history; the death of Princess Diana touched something in many of us and we grieved; it had significance in our lives. Recently the death of Boys Own pop singer Stephen Gately has triggered strong feelings of grief among people younger than me. This week saw the death of Norman Painting who had played the part of Phil Archer for sixty years. For many of us he was part of our history, and his passing has also been well-marked by the media.
The deaths of people we didn’t know can touch us in ways that can take us by surprise. Psychologists tell us that although our empathy and our sympathy is for others, that empathy is enabled by our own experience and the depths of grief that we each carry. If we have never felt pain how can we imagine pain in another person? Empathy is, in some way, a connection with others that happens as a result of our own wounds – a positive benefit (albeit one that we often don’t see until much later).
In today’s readings we learn something about the way that God connects with us, through the humanity of Jesus. In Isaiah 53:4, a prophetic verse about the coming of Jesus, we have read that, “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.”
We know from verse 5 of the gospel reading that Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. He is moved to tears by the grief of his friends. His connection with them, and with us, meant that Jesus could weep with them, and can still weep with each one of us, and with the entire world.
This story however, isn’t just about grief. It is also about hope. You know the end of the story, so let’s just put that on hold for a minute and look at some other stuff first.
There are two other stories of Jesus encountering dead people, and they build on each other:
In the first story of Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:34-42) Jesus restores a dead girl – newly dead, and he does it in private. Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, "My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live." So Jesus went with him.
In the second he finds a funeral procession on the way to bury the widows son at Nain (Luke 7:11-16), and he restores him to life. This is more public, but the death is still quite recent; it is normal in hot countries to bury people the same day. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't cry."
In both stories we can see God’s heart of compassion reaching out to those who grieved and were troubled.
So now we come back to our story.
Lazarus has been dead for at least four days. The spirit was believed to have left the body after three days, and we know from Martha’s comment about the smell that those present were quite realistic about what they might normally find inside a tomb. Dead is dead, and nature will have its course.
By the way, did you notice that it was Martha who came out to meet Jesus first, and was the first to announce that it still isn’t too late to save Lazarus? She believed in the possibility of a miracle, but she still half-expected a smell. Aren’t we so like her at times? Yet God can work despite our doubts.
And again we can see that Jesus is disturbed by grief (v33)“When Jesus saw Mary weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”
Was it just the death of his friend that disturbed him? Might Jesus have been looking forwards to his own death, only days away? Is John, the master story-teller of this gospel giving us clues about the story to come, laying the foundations so that we can see the similarities but also recognise the differences?
I’d like to propose that this story has some parallels with the story of the crucifixion; that this story looks forwards in time.
Both Martha and Mary say to Jesus that if he had been there Lazarus wouldn’t have died. If Jesus could have saved Lazarus from dying, then he could surely have saved himself. But he chose not to. Jesus’ love, God’s love is unselfish. It always seeks the good of others, and so it took Jesus to the cross.
Just as with Jairus’ daughter, and the son of the widow at Nain, Lazarus is restored to life. In the case of Lazarus, they roll away the stone and Lazarus comes out still wearing his grave clothes. He, like others is restored but not resurrected. He will die again another time. This story has moved us forwards in understanding that not only is God is more powerful even than death, but that God’s love for humanity is more powerful than death. There is more to come.
In Jesus’ story, the stone has been rolled away before anyone gets there, and the grave clothes are left behind. Jesus is resurrected, not restored. And in that resurrection we gain the opportunity to join with Jesus.
In a metaphor of our Christian life, Lazarus is dead, and Jesus calls him. He responds to that call by coming out of the grave and back into life. We too are dead without Jesus, and it is only when we too answer God's call that we too come out into the light and life of faith. All we have to do is hear and respond.
When we answer we come, not to our old life restored but to a new life, something completely different – to a share in the resurrected life of Jesus – not back to ourselves as individuals but to a community of faith that is church through time and geography.
Today is All Saints Day, and it is the day when we celebrate the life of all those who have lived in a way that reflects the light and love of God. That is why the altar frontal and my stole are in gold and white - a visual reminder of that light and love.
When the Romans executed Jesus they were hoping to kill, not just the man, but the trouble he was causing – his mission. By turning that death on its head in the resurrection Jesus ensured that his mission continued and grew.
Many of the people we honour as Saints died continuing the non-violent mission of bringing God’s love into this world, some as martyrs, but all as faithful witnesses.
That is what we seek to be.
In many ways, each person who has died in faith as a saint, and those of us who are trying, however imperfectly, to live as Christians in the world today, are saints-in-progress.
My prayer is that like Jesus at the grave of his friend Lazarus:
1. that we too may be filled with the outward-looking love and compassion of Christ;
2. that we can draw on our own experiences of loss and grief to enable us to look on those who suffer, with that compassion;
3. that we too, like Jesus, will look on those in pain and weep with them;
4. that we too will learn that the ultimate love is focused not on our own needs but on meeting the needs of others, and that we too might shine like saints as we reflect the love of God to others.