John 11, 32-44
Today's Gospel presents a dramatic working out of the second beatitude: 'Blessed are those who weep now, for you will laugh' (Luke 6.21) or Matthew 5.4 'Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.' It is a theme echoed in Isaiah 25.8, and then in Revelation 21.4, as tears in the face of death are turned to joy.
All were weeping at Lazarus' death, and Jesus shared the sorrow of his friends. But his real response will be to enact the words of the second beatitude. His prayer at Lazarus' tomb does not ask for a miracle. He says 'Father, I am giving you thanks' (eucharisteo in Greek). His expression of confidence and joy uses a word, which we associate with the Eucharistic Prayer, which we of course make through our risen Lord Jesus Christ.
Tonight we will be thinking more about death and resurrection as we celebrate All Souls at Stebbing and Great Saling, with those who have been bereaved. This morning I would like to concentrate more on the status of the living church and the communion of all saints
The saints, in the way the term is used in the New Testament, are the community of believers who share a faith in Jesus as the way, the truth and the life. You do not have to be dead or even dead famous to be a saint. St Paul frequently addresses his letters to “the saints in ..”
While I guess it is a bit strange that the Gospel chosen for this day is not about someone whom we would necessarily regard as a saint in the stereotypical sense, hre story of Lazarust does make the dramatic point that risen life with Christ is a free gift from God to all who are called to be saints. Famous saints like St Francis, or St Maximilian Kolbe, who did things to get themselves and more importantly God noticed are all very well, but if we concentrate too much on them, we might miss out on the person they are trying to draw us to – Jesus. St Therese of Lisieux - whose relics recently toured the UK, is all very well, but she’s no different from you or me in the eyes of God. To focus too much on any saint, if our relationship with God suffers, is like going on a journey, but stopping at the first signpost to our destination, and just standing looking at it.
The dead Lazarus, bound in his grave clothes, could do nothing for himself, but he was given life as the free gift from God. Having said he’s not normally listed under saints, we need to remember that travellers to Paris are sometimes greeted by him, if they arrive by train at the Gare St Lazare.
Though of course St John couldn’t have known about that rather good designation for the end of a journey, he invites us to note the parallels between the raising of Lazarus and the resurrection of Jesus, which of course opens the way to us to our final destination in the new creation.
Think about it for a second. Both stories have women called Mary who weep; they both involve cave tombs with stones rolled away. In both narratives there is a lengthy time the body spends in the tomb, and references to grave clothes, and (implied by the spices on Easter morning, and overtly here,) the resultant smell. Of course the passages are ultimately linked by the sheer impossibility in human terms alone, of coming to life again.
The similarity continues then with the appearances of Lazarus and the risen Christ from their tombs. Lazarus emerges bound in strips of cloth, and Jesus orders people to unbind him. This is a symbol of the way in which we are bound by sin and death, and a reminder that the risen Christ will proclaim release from sin when he appears in the upper room (John 20). There, his authority to release people bound by sin will be given to his disciples. With this, the tears are at an end as, in the words of Isaiah (25.8), 'He will swallow up death for ever.'
One Tuesday night last month at the course in Christian studies we were looking at the apostle’s creed, and considering what those ancient words mean for the relationship of believers to each other and to God. I was blessed to be in a small group as we discussed the final paragraph:
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.
Amen.
As a group we noticed how there a natural and gracious sequence in these words: the Spirit of God brings together the church on earth and the communion of saints, which transcends the boundaries of space and time. The communion is based on forgiveness – by God’s grace alone we are saints, remember, and centres on the resurrection of the body – the body of Jesus yes, but also our bodies, when we make the transition from being part of the earthly church to just being members of the communion of saints in eternity.
But I promised to focus on the living this morning, so I wonder how we really ought to feel about the communion of saints. I’ve never been much of a protestant, until last week anyway, and I do, you’ve probably noticed, celebrate saints’ days from the lectionary whenever I can. I’m not doing this, I’m sure you realise, because I think that saints are more important than Jesus, or even because I think they are as important as Jesus. I do it because they point to Jesus, and so help us on our way.
That is our task too, but that’s another story.
All Souls at Stebbing
1 Peter 1 3-9
You know typing, right – well, the fact is I have to do a lot of it these days, but haven’t had a lesson since I was 17. I know I’m doing it wrong, but I’ve just kind of adapted to the keyboard and screen so that I can get on with the job in hand.
The other day I was typing an address for a funeral, and instead of writing about the hope of eternal life, I wrote about the hop of eternal life. That’s funny now, but I had a hard time trying to keep a straight face at the crematorium.
If I knew how to type properly, and didn’t rely on computers to do my grammar for me, my life would in a way be simpler, less complex and more joyful. I’d be doing fewer corrections too!
Why am I talking about typing, you ask, well, because it is a bit like life, especially the life of a Christian; we do it, but not all of us actually know what we’re doing. Some of us were taught about it in our youth, some more recently, but under stress it is hard to call to mind things from the recesses of our memories.
But our struggle with life, like my struggle with the keyboard, doesn’t normally show, it just sometimes comes to the surface when we are under pressure or stress, as we are when we suffer bereavement.
Church, then, is like a typing class; it gives us the things we need to do life together, even in the darkness. Here we can find support, comfort and (by the grace of God) strength to carry on. Here we can soak up the wisdom of the Scriptures and our traditions, that have served us for many centuries and are still of indispensable use today. Here we can find a comforting shoulder, a listening ear, and even simple things like a cup of tea and a box of tissues. Things we need for every day, but particularly so in our loss.
But the picture breaks down at this point. If you attend a class – for typing or whatever, you have a teacher, who spends some time with you and then you are left on your own to get on with it. With God it is not like that. Yes, Jesus did spend some time on earth, but after he left he sent the Holy Spirit to be our comforter and guide, so we never need to be alone; we never need to be alone. Even in the deepest darkest moments of our sorrow or suffering, we never need to be alone.
Jesus doesn’t just teach us how to live in good times and in bad, then leave is alone - he walks with us on the journey through life.
You and I find comfort in the love we receive from others, the practical help, the hug, the company; in the touch of a comforter’s hand, you may be assured that you are receiving the love of God.
So if you are feeling a little like an untrained typist trying to type a dissertation, be assured you are in good company. Church is not about being superior and saying “we know how to do this”. Church is really just a bunch of people who know they need God’s grace and strength, and are brought together on a common journey to seek these things. We are, you might say, the walking wounded, but because we walk with the wounded saviour, our heads do not drop.
Our reading spoke of the inexpressible joy of knowing Christ; perhaps that is what is meant by the hop of eternal life?
But the hope of eternal life, which never disappoints us because the Holy Spirit has been given us, is always waiting for us to reach out and claim it for ourselves, and then we shall find rest for our souls.
