The thirty first day of Lent: Dealing with death

In the lectionary passage for this coming Sunday, Jesus faces the death of one of his closest friends, Lazarus. There is upset, both in the family, as he gets a bit of a shouting at as Martha exclaims “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died” and in himself. Remember the shortest verse in the Bible? “Jesus wept.” 

Lazarus is commanded to “come out.” What’s this story in John 11 some of you may hear in church on Sunday about? Lazarus will die again one day. I’ve got a sketch somewhere where Mrs Lazarus has made lovely vol au vents for the funeral tea and of course no one turns up. She gets exasperated realising another funeral tea and more vol au vents will have to be organised in the future! This story reminds us that death does not have the power over us we think it has. Death is part of life but it doesn’t have the last word. There is a new reality beyond death the person who has died will experience and while death is hard to deal with we are invited to hold on to hope. That not even death can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ. That’s why the same pastoral tutor also taught us to always preach the Gospel at a funeral. 

I like part of this sermon from the American Episcopal Church written for Holy Week this year: 

“In the face of all the deaths that make up our lives, we are told first that death is stronger than we are and that we have neither knowledge about nor power over death. And then we are told that Jesus is Lord, Lord of all—Lord of life and of death.

So, we must choose. Whatever deaths are before us, we must choose.

We must choose to despair or to trust; to give up or to go on; to abandon hope, or to let go in faith. That choice is not made for us but is instead given to us. And that choice can be terribly hard. More than at any other time, the reality of death—death in whatever form—is a call to trust, indeed, to trust blindly.

For we see all that the world sees, and yet we see more. We see that the dry bones, even our dry bones, can live once more. And we see that the word of Jesus has power. “Come out,” the Lord calls. “Come out” into different life, into new life. “Come out” into life unknown and unexplained. “Come out” in trust and in hope.”

And here’s a thought. Is the story of Lazarus a dress rehearsal for the main event to come? It is meant to be a revelation; it is written to say: ‘this is who he is’. This is the one who summons life and hope from despair and death; this is the one whose voice cannot be ignored – even in the tomb. This is the one who, before his own resurrection, is already the resurrection and the life.