All Saints B: Saints Here and Now
Dear Partner in Preaching,
Why this story of the raising of Lazarus for All Saints Sunday?
While that was my question a week ago when I first looked at this text and began to think about preaching on this day, that question has taken on greater urgency in light of the massacre at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburg over the weekend. And it’s given launch to other questions as well. Why does this passage matter? Does it matter? What does it say not just to this festival but to our life in this chaotic and violent world? Why this quaint festival at all, for that matter? How does what we do speak into, let alone help, in a time of such polarization, fear, and hatred?
Having some sense of the enormity of these questions, I’m going to approach them indirectly, even “sideways,” addressing a question to the passage I had not thought of before in the hope that following it may lead to some of the other questions I’ve raised.
Why this passage on All Saints? Or, and this is the question I had not thought of before, which character in the story helps us understand what it is to be a saint? Is it Mary who, her heart wrenched by grief, gives voice to not simply a question but a lament, even an accusation: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died?” Perhaps Mary represents all those who will come to church this Sunday heavy in heart, the grief of their loss still fresh to the point of being overwhelming.
Is it Martha, who had asked the same question only moments earlier, and then witnessed her question and grief transformed into a courageous confession, not simply about resurrection in general – “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day” – but a particular confession in Jesus, the one who tarried while her brother died yet who promised her life here and now: “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world” (John 11:24, 27). Perhaps Martha stands for all those whose faith in Jesus seems incredibly resilient and who serve as both witness and encouragement for the rest of us.
Or perhaps our focus should linger on Lazarus, the one called forth from the tomb. Lazarus is Jesus’ seventh, final, and – until Jesus’ own resurrection – greatest of Jesus’ seven signs recorded in John. Lazarus stands as the promise of Jesus literally embodied, one whom death had taken…but could not hold onto. He serves as a reminder of and testimony to Jesus’ power over even death and each of us has met people who have come through such difficult circumstances that they may well serve as a contemporary Lazarus for us.
Of course, the likely character of greatest interest in this story is Jesus, the one who gives life, who calls us out of not just death, but even our fear of death. The one who weeps for Lazarus and his sisters and, I think, for those who stand by and neither understand nor believe in God’s promise of life. The one who, in raising Lazarus, starts the chain of events that will lead to his own death (11:53). The one, finally, whom death itself cannot contain. “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus promises Martha earlier in this story (11:25), and then demonstrates his fidelity first by raising Lazarus and then again and more fully on Easter morning.
Any of these characters might serve as the focus of a sermon that tries to help us understand the fresh import of the promise of resurrection that stands at the center of all our Sunday celebrations but is perhaps even more prominent on the Festival of All Saints. And certainly you could focus on each of them briefly, inviting people to identify with one or another of these figures and hear the promise of Jesus addressed to them. But on this particular occasion, I would direct our gaze to one more place at the end of this story, to one more person or, really, persons: those in the crowd who witnessed Lazarus resurrection and whom Jesus commands: “Unbind him, and let him go!”
I find this part of the story particularly intriguing, even compelling, just now because it reminds me that even God’s work of resurrection is not quite complete absent our participation, absent our being caught up in the act itself. This is complex, and I’m not sure I’ve worked it all out, so I’ll try to be as clear as I can. It’s not so much that God needs us to do God’s work of resurrection, it’s that God’s work of resurrection isn’t limited simply to those whose life is renewed in the moment but finds its fulfillment as it also catches up, impacts, even transforms those who witness and are drawn into it.
“Unbind him, and let him go!” This is an invitation to be drawn into God’s life-giving work, to participate in, extend, and in some sense complete the reach of God’s mighty acts. It is a promise that resurrection is not simply a matter of “then” – whenever that might be (think of Martha’s “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day”) – but is also and equally a matter of “now.” Now there is something to do. Now we find courage to live amid fear. Now we sense God’s promise of life helping us not only live in the shadow of death with confidence but also resist the power of death that we concede too, perhaps, too quickly.
God’s promise of resurrection isn’t an invitation to deny death – the death rate in my community is the same as yours: one per person and 100%. But God’s promise of resurrection does grant us both the permission and power to defy it: to defy death’s ability to overshadow and distort our lives, to deny death’s threat that there is nothing else, to deny those who believe because they have the ability to inflict death they are the most powerful people on earth. This story, and the Easter story if prefigures, promises that death does not have the last word, and therefore that we are free to live now, to struggle now, to sacrifice now, to encourage others never to give up now, to live out of love rather than hate now, and to have their actions directed by hope rather than fear…now!
In light of God’s resurrection promise, death no longer terrifies us, not the death of the loved ones we remember on this day, nor our own. But, and just as importantly, because of God’s resurrection promise, the life we share in this world here and now no longer terrifies us either. The massacre of innocents, the politics of fear and division, the rhetoric of hate – these are heart wrenching elements of our life in the world, but they do not have the last word either and are not the final reality. Prompted by God’s promise of resurrection we can stand against them, hold onto each other amid them, and offer a testimony rooted in life and love that runs to contrary to the testimony of the world.
So this Sunday, Dear Partner, after giving thanks for those saints who have gone before us – those we remember, grieve, and celebrate their place now in the nearer presence of God – after giving thanks for those saints who have gone before, perhaps we can and should turn our attention more directly to those saints sitting in front of us, those who have heard the word of resurrection and now are called to unbind all those bound by the fear of death and let go those struggling to find hope. We are invited this week – always, of course, but especially this week – to tell our people that the God who raised Jesus from the dead still needs us, wants us, invites us to participate in, extend, and even complete God’s resurrection work by caring for, standing with, and lending our courage to those who are suffering and grieving, those who are most vulnerable and in need.
We have before us, I believe, a veritable host of saints who, while they are here amongst us and not yet in heaven, have work to do, a call to answer, a resurrection life to lead here and now. “Unbind him, and let him go!” is both their mandate and marching orders, for the God who answered Jesus’ prayer in bringing Lazarus forth from the tomb, the God who raised Jesus from death, the God who promises us life eternal… this God is not finished yet! And we are the instruments of God’s resurrection life, grace, and power here and now.
Blessings on your resurrection proclamation, Dear Partner, this All Saints Sunday and always. For your words carry God’s promise of life and they will not return empty.
Yours in Christ,
David
Thank you, David. This is exactly what I need to hear, what my congregation needs to hear: in the midst of the unthinkable (and yet the reality of the ultimate end we all face), what does the community do? What is our work done for Christ? “Unbind him and let him go!”
Excellent! I appreciate the words: “God’s promise of resurrection isn’t an invitation to deny death – the death rate in my community is the same as yours: one per person and 100%. But God’s promise of resurrection does grant us both the permission and power to defy it,” etc., and the attention to the saints in the pews. I am afraid we forget that WE are the saints of God right hear and now.
Blessings!
Well said. I have considered much of what you say in a different sense; the question if “dead ears” hear? By its nature, the fact Jesus treats the command of the dead Lazarus no different than the living he cures and teaches should give us pause to consider his authority and exercise of power. Much as the question of death overshadows John’s narrative and All Saints,I wonder if OUR dead ears may hear that call away from the lifeless existence we call humanity. For Sunday, much as you challenge us, can we embrace life… the daily life and resurrection from our sin?