Sunday: 5th Sunday in Lent A
Reading: John 11:1-45
Preacher: S. James Steen

On occasion, groups at St. Paul & the Redeemer use a popular form of Bible study in which, after a person reads the appointed passage, the leader asks the participants to name a word or a phrase that grabbed their attention during the reading. In today's Gospel, two such phrases come immediately to my mind: The first is directed to Jesus by Martha: "By now, there will be a stench," or better, in the King James Version, "He stinketh." The second phrase is spoken by Jesus: "Unbind him and let him go."

Is there a word or phrase that caught your attention just now as the Gospel was read? Does this story leave you with a question or two? Many scholars believe that it is based on an earlier story, no longer accessible, that circulated during the lifetime of Jesus, perhaps 80 years before the author of John wrote this passage. I wonder what the details of that earlier story were, and I wonder what the Lazarus figure in John's story was like in the original story.

This takes me back to a late night visit I made when the family of a dying parishioner called me and asked if I would come and administer "last rites," as it was called in those days, to their mother. The dying woman's name was Marjorie Nightingale, and I loved Marjorie. She and I had been close for years, and now she was dying. There wasn't really anything wrong with Marjorie; she was just old and, I was told, in a coma on the way to departing this world.

After visiting with her family for a time, I prayed with them and anointed Marjorie. Then, as I was preparing to leave, I did something I had done many times before when dropping by her house for a drink or dinner. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. As I stood up, ready to leave, Marjorie opened her eyes and said, with total clarity, "You can do better than that!" Then, she lived for a year or two longer. When I returned to repeat this same ritual for the last time, her son requested that I not kiss her.

If someone were to ask me what happened in that encounter the first time I anointed Marjorie, after saying that I have no idea, or perhaps she wasn't as sick or as far gone as she seemed, I might offer the possibility that what revived her was the connection between us, the care we bore for one another, and the presence of God in the midst of two people connecting deeply.

But reviving Marjorie was far from a simple blessing; for rather than opening for her some new possibility, some opportunity for new life, I was unwittingly hindering her from moving forward. She really had no place left to go in this world, no new possibility here, and so it became her lot to sit by the hour and wait for her next opportunity to move on. Her son was right: "Please don't kiss her, this time."

Lazarus faced a very different reality: It wasn't yet his time. He had living yet to do, and who knows how many new selves remained for him to become. Marjorie needed to die. Lazarus needed to live. And the progress of each was impeded, if only temporarily, by well-meaning people who would only have wanted the best for them.

The warning "He stinketh" is really an impediment to taking the risk that might bring Lazarus to life again, perhaps giving him life beyond what he had known before. "He stinketh" says to everyone who would venture into uncharted territory in search of a new future, "You've been the way you are for too long to change. It's too late for you to become the person you've always dreamed you might be;" or "Don't put effort into being honest with that that other person, that spouse or friend you love who can't bring himself to see his need to change, a need that is all to obvious to others. After all, he's been stuck forever. It's too late; he already stinketh."

It's against this backdrop that Lazarus emerges from the tomb after Jesus commands him to come out. He's like a mummy, wrapped in bands of cloth. Lazarus needs help at this moment. Will he remain in the garb of the tomb, only partly emerging from death? He must be tempted to do so. He's gotten pretty comfortable in that dark place of rest and sleep. Or will he be allowed to go forward into the fresh air and sunshine, even though, at first, the wind my chafe his skin and the bright light will hurt his eyes?

At this moment, Lazarus' fate is in the hands of those who love him. Will they seek to keep him comfortable and at rest, thinking they are being kind, but denying him the possibility of transformation? Or will they muster the courage to free him to go forward? It's every parent's quandary; it's a tension we all face repeatedly, with ourselves and with those we care about. In this powerful story, Jesus resolves the tension when he utters those other gripping words, "Unbind him, and let him go." Don't hold him back. Loose his shackles and free him to emerge into the light of day.

Reynolds Price writes compellingly of this struggle as he experienced it when a tumor in his spine brought paralysis and changed his life forever. And he offers advice to others, when he speaks of the necessity of mourning the death of the person you used to be, and of being reborn as someone new. He talks about how those people who knew and loved you in your old life - your mate, parents, your children, your co-workers - will work hard to make you continue to be the person you used to be, but can no longer be. Their motives may be admirable, but they serve as a hindrance to your becoming the person you must become; and for your own good and ultimately for the good of those who love you, you must move forward¹ and remove the garb of the tomb.

If you have ever tried to give up an addiction or to shed an old attitude, if you have ever attempted to stake out more time for yourself, which means less time for others, if you have ever told an oppressor to cease and desist, if you have ever come out of any closet or have become self-defined in a new way, then you know what Price is talking about.

There remain almost two more weeks of Lent, two more weeks to flirt with death, to try on those wrappings that bind our hands and feet and minds, two more weeks to cling to who we have been. But John is giving us a harbinger even now. Even now John is reminding us that the Tomb will not be the final word; so we don't have to remain in those old haunts that promise life they cannot deliver. It's time to get ready. Lazarus is everyman and everywoman. He is also Jesus, and though he must stay in the tomb for a few days, he will soon emerge and beckon to us to follow him into new life. How will we respond?

Amen.

¹ Reynolds Price, A Whole New Life, (New York, NY: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1994) pp. 181-183