Sermons for the Month
Something Better ... the Best ... is Yet to Come!
DATE: November 2n, 2003
SERVICE: All Saints' Sunday
TEXT: Isaiah 25:6-9 and John 11:32-44“To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
Today's scripture passages, like life, are filled with contrasting images. In the first reading we hear about the future day when God will provide for all people a feast of rich food and well-aged wine. I had a professor in seminary - a rather portly gentleman - who described that passage as one of his favorites as he looked forward to a day when calories and cholesterol are not longer an issue.
In contrast, the Gospel lesson presents us with images of profound grief as Mary, Martha and even Jesus mourn the death of Lazarus.
That contrast of celebration and crying, feasting and fear, is an accurate reflection of reality, I think. Perhaps it was because I had these passages in mind, but I saw that so clearly in Wednesday's newspaper. On the front page there were flaming photos of fire with paragraphs detailing the devastating losses in California this week. In contrast, in Section E, there were luscious pictures of mounds of chocolate in an article that shared where in Akron to find fabulous desserts.
The front page spoke of bombings and deaths in Iraq and faltering approval ratings for the president while quotes on page E3 proclaimed chocolate as the favorite dessert of 52 percent of Americans nationwide.
It's the age old story of feast and famine and most of us would rather indulge than suffer. I know I would. And, yet, that's not what life has to offer. Perhaps we realize that today - All Saints' Day - more than usual as we remember and give thanks for those who have died in faith, particularly those whose time on this earth ended during the past year.
Today's Gospel lesson is about loss. It's an emotional story, a story about friends of Jesus - people whom he loves - who must suffer. The verses that we did not read tell us that Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha, is ill. He is sick enough that the sisters send word to Jesus, whom they expect to heal their brother.
But, he does not do so; he doesn't speak the healing word from a distance nor does he show up in person. The text makes it clear that Jesus purposely does not act, a reality that is more than a little confusing for everyone involved. So it is that Lazarus suffers illness and dies, and Mary and Martha face terrible grief.
It's not what anyone wants, I'm guessing, but there's a larger purpose and that takes precedence. When Jesus shows up Lazarus has been in the tomb four days. By now, it's a hopeless situation. You see, people believed that the soul remained in the vicinity of the body for three days, hoping to rejoin it. On the fourth day, the soul would finally face reality and depart.
The fact that Lazarus had been in the tomb four days means that there can be no possibility of his soul rejoining his body. As I said, it's hopeless, and everybody knows it. Mary and Martha are upset. Jesus is late, if he had come earlier the suffering could have been avoided.
This is a true-to-life story of disappointment and loss. Even Jesus, who knows the underlying purpose, is affected by the grief and frustrations of his friends. It's interesting to note that the word that is translated "greatly disturbed" is actually more closely translated angry. When he sees Mary and the others weeping, Jesus is angry, and he also weeps. The anger wells up again when he comes to the tomb. Perhaps he wishes his friends had not suffered. Yet, there's that larger purpose.
Then, the climax of the story, Jesus shouts, "Lazarus, come out!" and a dead man walks, alive again. I'm guessing they had a party, a great feast of celebration as the grave clothes were left behind.
It happened for two reasons. One was to glorify God and make it clear who Jesus was. But, second, the restoration of Lazarus to life is the event that led to Jesus' crucifixion as the religious leaders grew more and more nervous in the face of such an unbelievable event, witnessed by so many people.
So, the celebration of Lazarus' return to life occurred in the shadow of the cross where Jesus himself would soon die. Had that not been the case, Mary and Martha would have faced another hopeless day. That's because Lazarus is going to die again, he can't live forever in this world. The physical life that Jesus gave him was only a reprieve. So, the day will come again when his body has been in the tomb for four, five, ten, twenty days and, had it not been for Jesus, there would be no hope.
But because of Jesus, because of his forgiving death and death-defying resurrection, Lazarus and all of us have the gift of eternal life, not a temporary reprieve from death, but life that extends forever beyond the grave.
In the midst of our feast and famine world there is the promise of something better, of an unending banquet where chocolate is the main course, if one so desires. (And I do!)
I'm reminded of a story that I'm sure many of you have heard. But, someone put a copy of it on my desk this week, and it fits, so I thought I'd share it. It's about a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given a short time to live. So, she had her pastor come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishers.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
"There's one more thing," she said. "This is very important. I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The Pastor stood looking at her, not know quite what to say. So, she explained.
"I all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork'. It was my favorite part because I knew something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. I knew that something wonderful, and with substance, would be set before me."
She went on, "So I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them, 'Keep your fork, because the best is yet to come.'"
She knew that something better was coming, and so do we.
So it is that on this All Saints' Sunday that we grapple with the realities of a world of contrasts, a world that fluctuates between disaster and dessert. In the midst of it our Lord shares our joy and frustration, our celebrating and our grieving and promises that there is always hope. Indeed, something better is yet to come. AMEN