 |
| The Raising of Lazarus, 1943, by Jose Clemente Orozco |
A sermon preached at St George’s Bloomsbury on Sunday 26th March and St Stephen Walbrook on Thursday 30th March 2023 (Year A, 5th Sunday of Lent) based on readings from Psalm 130, Romans 8.6-11 and John 11.1-45.
al-Azariya - ‘the place of Lazarus’ - is the name by which the reputed location of the events in our gospel reading is now known. Today the West Bank Barrier cuts through the middle of the town, blocking the road to Jerusalem - which makes the whole place feel like a bit of a dead end. Somewhere you come, turn around and go back. Two thousand years ago, Jesus did the same. This was the setting for the last of the seven 'signs' he performed, before turning back to Jerusalem - for the final time.
Like many places of pilgrimage in the Holy Land, the
site has frequently changed hands. It was the Franciscans who were responsible
for making it accessible. Controlling the entrance meant controlling
the money donated by those wanting to come out of the tomb like Lazarus.
A new route was carved through the rock to accommodate
the growing number of visitors. A winding passage from the street leads down
twenty four steep steps to a small cave. Here, Jesus is said to have stood when
he called ‘Lazarus, come out’.
Even deep inside the rock, it is swelteringly hot. No
wonder Martha was concerned about the smell of decay when the tomb was opened.
The whole place still has a strong odour - musty and
slightly spicy. For years pilgrims have been buying small vials of nard and
pouring it down the steps. Nard is the expensive oil that Lazarus’s other
sister, Mary, used to anoint the feet of Jesus, wiping them with her hair. The
scent of devoted service; of life and death, lingers in the air. An aroma of
the gospel?
From the cave, you enter the tomb through a short
tunnel - crawling on your hands and knees; the stone floor smoothed by
centuries of wear.
The tunnel is accessible by three further steps, cut
into a hole in the floor. Early fonts - for baptism by full immersion - were
designed to mimic the entrances to tombs just like this. A physical reminder
that in baptism we choose to turn from death to life.
Once inside the tomb it is possible to stand up.
The stone bench on which the body of Lazarus is said
to have been laid has long since been robbed away by souvenir-hungry pilgrims.
In fact there isn’t much to see here at all.
No icons, no crosses. Fixed to the outer wall of
the tomb, the only decoration is a plaque with these words, written in
different languages:
“The glory of God shall be seen by those who put their
faith in Jesus in times of greatest distress and hopelessness, they are certain
that He is greater than any distress, even greater than death itself.”
Here, inside this dead end place in this dead end
town, a sign of hope. That when we find ourselves up against the wall;
confronted by the greatest distress - even the ultimate dead end of death
itself - we shall see the glory of God if we put our faith in Jesus.
Our gospel reading reminds us of that choice.
Jesus explains that he delayed his return to Bethany
in order that the glory of God might be revealed through Him. He joins Martha
and Mary in the depths of grief.
One is rushing around manically. The other is
depressed and withdrawn. Both question and challenge their faith in raw and
emotional language: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have
died.” And when everyone is up against the wall, when all, including Jesus
himself - are moved to tears, he reveals the glorious truth about who He is and
offers them a choice. To abandon hope - or to trust in him.
‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe
in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in
me will never die. Do you believe this?’
They choose to believe.
Not because they understood this truth clearly - but
because they had faith in the one who revealed it. They believed and trusted in
Jesus.
It’s the same choice we were presented with at our
baptism. When we chose to turn away from darkness and death and turn to the
light and life of Christ. When we chose to receive the Spirit of God which now
dwells in us.
It’s the same choice we are presented with each day -
as we must decide whether or not to “live in Christ” - to allow ourselves to be
guided by the Spirit in what we think, say and do. To live righteously.
The choice to believe - to live - a truth we cannot
fully understand. A truth which can seem so distant amidst all the darkness of
this world.
The truth that God’s glory is greater than our
greatest distress - that Christ has conquered death itself. That in Christ is
life, and the life is the light of all people.
The Spirit of Christ is in us. The powers of darkness
are in retreat. We can now see possibilities open to us that were not open
before - a new way of living in the world, unencumbered by fear and
hopelessness.
For centuries people have flocked to the tomb of
Lazarus to experience what it’s like to “come out” of the open tomb – when he
was unbound and set free. Today it’s a popular photo opportunity.
But it is inside the empty tomb that we really get the
picture of what that freedom looks like. Here we find the scent of a life and
death devoted to the service of others - the aroma of the gospel - and a sign
pointing to Jesus.
In raising Lazarus, Jesus gives the glimpse of the
possibility of life after death, but in doing so seals his own death warrant.
His following is now too large for the chief priests and Pharisees to ignore.
Jesus is a threat to the system and has to die. The scene is set for the final
part of his journey on earth.
In the next few days we will follow Jesus to the cross
and on to his empty tomb. We will be asked to reaffirm the choice we made at
our baptism. That we believe and trust in Jesus.
We’ve been there before. It’s a place with a familiar
scent. An aroma which reminds of the possibilities that Jesus has opened up
before us. A place where the glory of God is revealed in us; where we are the
signs pointing to Jesus.
It’s a place we come, turn around and go back. But
it’s not a dead end. It's a life start.
Image: The Raising of Lazarus, 1943, by Jose Clemente Orozco
No comments:
Post a Comment