University Presbyterian Church - Chapel Hill, NC

“Breath of God”

A Sermon Preached for University Presbyterian Church

by Anna Pinckney Straight

March 9, 2008

Ezekiel 37:1-14

¹The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. ²He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. ³He said to me, "Mortal, can these bones live?" I answered, "O Lord GOD, you know." ⁴Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD. ⁵Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. ⁶I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the LORD."

⁷So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. ⁸I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. ⁹Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord GOD: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live." ¹⁰I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.

¹¹Then he said to me, "Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, 'Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.' ¹²Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord GOD: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. ¹³And you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. ¹⁴I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the LORD, have spoken and will act," says the LORD.

John 11:1-45

¹Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. ²Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. ³So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, "Lord, he whom you love is ill." ⁴But 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." ⁵Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, ⁶after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

⁷Then after this he said to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." ⁸The disciples said to him, "Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?" ⁹Jesus 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. ¹⁰But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them." ¹¹After saying this, he told them, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him." ¹²The disciples said to him, "Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right." ¹³Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. ¹⁴Then Jesus told them plainly, "Lazarus is dead. ¹⁵For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him." ¹⁶Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him."

¹⁷When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. ¹⁸Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, ¹⁹and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. ²⁰When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. ²¹Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²²But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." ²³Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." ²⁴Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." ²⁵Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, ²⁶and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" ²⁷She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."

²⁸When 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." ²⁹And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. ³⁰Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. ³¹The 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. ³²When 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." ³³When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. ³⁴He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." ³⁵Jesus began to weep. ³⁶So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" ³⁷But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"

³⁸Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. ³⁹Jesus 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." ⁴⁰Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" ⁴¹So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me. ⁴²I 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." ⁴³When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" ⁴⁴The 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."

⁴⁵Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

It is a story which is difficult to pin down, there are so many different locations and emotions, themes and possibilities.  This story of Jesus, the disciples, Lazarus, Mary, Martha, and the crowd who is gathered.  It is all over the place.

It begins with anxiety.

Jesus hears that his dear friend Lazarus is ill, and he waits.  Why?  Why doesn’t he go?  What is Lazarus’ condition?  Can he wait?  What is Jesus doing that is so important?  What are Mary and Martha thinking, when they hear nothing from Jesus in response to their plea?

Ted Wardlaw writes:  “You understand Mary's and Martha's dismay, don't you? When it's your brother gasping for breath on the deathbed—your sister, your husband, your wife, your child, your parent—you're not looking for some timeless truth about death. You don't want a telegram that explains it all. It may be that you're not even looking for someone who can change things, or who has something powerful to say. But what you are looking for is someone who, instinctively, is willing to drop everything to get there and make the coffee and handle the telephone and, in a host of other simple ways, to stand with you and shoulder the pain with you and—most importantly—suffer with you.   Mary and Martha sent word to Jesus, and Jesus seemed remarkably unmoved. He didn't rush to the bedside—didn't even send flowers. He just threw off some truth about the glory of God…”[1]

It begins with anxiety, but then the scene then gives way to confusion, misunderstanding.

When Jesus does decide to go to Bethany, the disciples do not understand.  This is not unusual, of course, the disciples often do not understand, they are good company for us.  First, they cannot comprehend why Jesus would go to a place where he was in danger.  Lazarus was dying or dead, why should Jesus put his own life at risk?  Now that Jesus has waited, why should he go now?  They are failing to consider the aspect of their relationship with Jesus that is friendship.  A relationship which says that it is okay to take a risk for another person, even if it is to your detriment.   They are looking on the surface: it is better for everyone for Jesus to protect himself.  Better for everyone, but not the Good News.  They do not see beneath what Jesus is saying.  They misunderstand Jesus’ use of euphemism in proclaiming that Lazarus is sleeping.  Lazarus, Jesus’ friend.  But that’s not the only friendship here.  There is also the friendship Jesus has with his disciples.

Gail O’Day offers, “It seems fair to ask if Jesus' direct speech to his disciples might be an act of friendship, through which Jesus reveals the hard truth of their friend Lazarus's death and prepares them for the consequences. The disciples need to face squarely Lazarus's death in order to begin contemplating the significance of what is to come, and that is impossible unless they realize that Lazarus is dead, not merely ill and sleeping. Jesus himself links his "plain speaking" to the disciples' welfare ("For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe," v. 15). Jesus must speak frankly to the disciples about Lazarus's death in order to equip them for the role of disciple that the situation may demand of them, in this case, to see a revelation of God's glory in the raising of Lazarus and so come to believe (cf. 11:2 and 15). Jesus treats the disciples as equals by speaking plainly to them.”[2]

John then leads us to a place engulfed by grief.  Jesus does get to Bethany, and Lazarus is dead.  Four days dead.  Four is significant here because “Popular Jewish belief at the time of Jesus held that the soul hovered around the body for three days after death, hoping to re-enter the body.  But after the third day, when the soul 'sees that the color of its face has changed,' -- the soul leaves the body for good."[3] 

And there is grief.  Real, consuming, grief.  Grief over the death of a loved one.  A brother.  A friend.  “Let there be no misunderstanding [Fred Craddock says]: Martha, Mary and Lazarus are not simply props for a spiritual story. They are real people trapped in death and grief….”[4] Mourning a death, a death that is in no way imaginary or metaphorical.  We too, know what it is like to lose in this way.  It’s something I could say any week, something that is particularly true after this week, this week in Chapel Hill. 

Jesus sees his friend weeping.  And the next emotion that comes is anguish   Sorrow with a healthy dose of anger.  And it is from this place that he weeps.  They are, perhaps, the tears of shared sorrow over the loss of life for Lazarus, but if they are that in part they are certainly more.  Fred Craddock again,

“Jesus was ‘deeply moved in spirit and troubled’ (v. 33), he was ‘deeply moved again’ (v. 38), and he wept (v. 35). Why? He had deliberately delayed coming until Lazarus was dead and buried. The crowd said, ‘See how he loved him!’ (v. 36), but in this Gospel they never understand what is really going on. Jesus is experiencing something like a Gethsemane, for he knows that calling Lazarus out of the tomb means that he must enter it. The narrative will shortly make that fact abundantly clear: the belief in Jesus generated by his raising Lazarus prompts the religious leaders to plot Jesus' death (vv. 45-53). But for Jesus there is no other way because only in this act can he be the resurrection and the life for the world.”

For Jesus there is no other way, and so he weeps, and I imagine his tears were hot and salty, the kind that refuse to be held in, that care not for their host’s dignity.

Disbelief  follows Jesus’ anguish.  For all that has happened, for all that has been said, those who are gathered.  Disciples.  Beloved friends.  Strangers.  None of them seems to have a clue what is ahead.  Martha doesn’t want him to roll away the stone.  Four days have passed, does Jesus not know that the body will smell?  As it says in the King James Version, “Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.”

But call Lazarus out Jesus does, not because the people believe in him, but because they do not.  “‘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.’”

What follows is freedom, jubilation, maybe some more confusion.  We do not know, the text does not reveal it.

Anxiety                     

Confusion                 

Grief              

Anguish                    

Disbelief

They are all here, these and more I have not begun to unearth,  together, in one place.  And so this story is hard to pin down.  Hard to track.  What are we supposed to feel, and when?

It is just the way it should be, for this is what life is like.  We are hardly ever, if at all, given the luxury of a singular emotion which can sustain us through an event, much less a crisis.  Most events, particularly the ones surrounding death, bring emotions faster than we are ready to receive or able to process.  We’re almost always left playing catch up with our emotions and our beliefs, our fears and disbeliefs.

Ironic, because through Jesus we are called to believe, to give up our fear of death.  To be unbound.  This event, we are told, “this…. that they may believe that you sent me.”  And people do believe because of what happens here, John says.  And we do believe, don’t we?  It’s right there along with everything else. We, too, believe.

Barbara Brown Taylor reflects:

“Lord, I believe, but help thou my unbelief, because I still do not want to die. I believe Jesus has power to raise the dead, only I do not want him practicing on me. I want a God who will cut my losses and cushion my failures, a God who will grant me a life free from pain. I want a God who will rescue me from death, who will delete it from the human experience and find another way to operate.  What I, what all of us, have instead is a God who resurrects us from the dead, putting an end to it by working through it instead of around it—creating life in the midst of grief, creating love in the midst of loss, creating faith in the midst of despair—resurrecting us from our big and little deaths, showing us by his own example that the only road to Easter morning runs smack through Good Friday.

"I am the resurrection and the life," Jesus says to grieving Martha. Not "I will be" but "I am"—right here, right now—resurrection and life for anyone willing to believe that it might just be true. It is not a safe story, but it is a strong one, with power to lead us through the graveyard and out the other side.”[5]

It is not a safe story but a strong one.  One that cries out to us in our humanness and points us toward God. 

God, the great I Am, the one who gives us breath.  Whose breath can even bring life to dry bones.  Who even and especially in our disbelief and fear, those things that live alongside our faith, still calls out for us to arise and unbind ourselves from all of those things that keep us in our tombs.

Amen.