As most of you know, I love stories. I love reading them, listening to them, watching them on stage or in film, and writing them. I think that Jesus being a storyteller was probably one of the first things that really attracted me to the Gospels. I particularly love stories that are mythological; stories that may not be true on the outside, but they are true on the inside… They hold significant, often profound truths within their narrative.
The passage today from Ezekiel is just such a story. The mention in the passage of the ‘hand of the Lord’ that came upon Ezekiel indicates to us that this is a vision (not a literal event); a prophetic vision given by God to the prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel goes on to tell this story, and its message to the people of God, the Israelites, who are in exile, and are losing any trust and hope in God. So this God given story, that is run through with truth, speaks about that which is dead being brought, through the grace and Spirit of God, to life.
And then in our Gospel, we have another extraordinary happening, which is only told in the Gospel of John. Whatever the factual truth may be of Lazarus being raised from the dead after four days) there is no doubt that this story too holds great truth.
These are both stories about things which are dead being brought to life. It’s worth reflecting, I think, on what in my life might need to have life breathed into it again?
The Ezekiel passage calls wonderfully on our senses – we hear the bones rattling against one another, as they come together bone to bone. Ezekiel can see the bones, and the sinews and skin covering them, but knows that despite their physical movement there is no life within them. These bones are nothing more than physical body parts until they are filled with the breath of life, and this breath, this Spirit, can only be given by God.
The parallels with our Gospel story are significant. In John’s Gospel, the story begins with Jesus and the disciples by the River Jordan. They have fled Jerusalem days before when the crowd had turned against Jesus trying to stone him and then to arrest him. But Jesus receives word that Lazarus is ill, and after some days’ delay he sets off for Bethany (despite the protestations of the disciples who are at once both fearful – ‘they were just trying to stone you, and are you going there again?’ – and courageous – in Thomas’ words ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him’.)
So they set out for Bethany, home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha and Mary are wonderful characters. This sisters’ relationship is complicated (as sibling relationships often are) and they are such different people. Martha is always busy. When she sees something that needs to be done she jumps to it, without a backward glance. I love Martha; I love the immediacy of her responses, the energy she carries within her, her ability to speak truth. But I recognise too that she doesn’t always weigh up situations before she gets busy, or opens her mouth.
So, true to form, when Martha hears that Jesus is on his way, she leaves the house, and goes to meet him. When they meet she plunges in. ‘Lord, if you’d been here, my brother would not have died.’ She doesn’t assess the mood among Jesus and the disciples. She doesn’t even check whether Jesus knows yet that her brother, his good friend Lazarus, has died. She dives in, and seems to reproach Jesus for not coming sooner.
Martha is in the early days of grief. Her beloved brother has died. She feels let down by Jesus. She strongly believes Jesus could have saved her brother’s life, if he’d only bothered to come a bit more quickly (like she – fast acting, busy Martha – would have done). And in her grief, she lashes out with critical words. There are often harsh and hurtful words spoken during periods of grief, which can lead to lasting hurts. But Jesus doesn’t retaliate, or allow her words to distract him from his core message of love. Jesus is with Martha, even in her anger, and responds by drawing Martha towards truth, towards life, even in the midst of her grief.
We see a transformation beginning in Martha in this conversation, as she moves from a reasoned response about Lazarus rising again on the last day, to a heart-filled confident proclamation of her faith in Jesus as the Messiah.
What about Mary? Where Martha responds to her grief with busyness and activity, Mary seems to respond with inaction. We might even surmise that Mary, in her grief, enters into depression. She doesn’t go out to meet Jesus but stays at home with her loss (and perhaps her fear about how they will survive without Lazarus, their brother. After all, widows and unmarried women had few rights, and no way to earn a living in 1st century Palestine. Their family life risks falling apart.)
But now Martha, having been led from a place of anger to one of faith and hope in Jesus, goes to her sister, Mary, and does as Jesus did for her. She draws Mary out of her isolation to meet Jesus, source of new life.
Mary repeats Martha’s words; ‘Lord, if you’d been here, my brother would not have died.’ But unlike Martha, Mary doesn’t go on to state any belief that even now God could change things. In fact this short sentence is the only thing Mary says in the whole story. Her silence speaks louder than any words. In her grief, she is speechless with sorrow. And we witness Jesus alongside her in her sorrow.
Mary weeps, kneeling at Jesus’ feet, and Jesus goes towards her in her distress. It affects him – we are told he was ‘greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved’ and he too begins to weep. Jesus weeps with Mary who weeps. It’s a beautiful moment of empathy, love and tender care. And then, finally, Jesus acts.
Lazarus has been dead and in the tomb for four days. Jesus comes to the tomb, and instructs them to ‘Take away the stone’. Martha, perhaps desiring to protect the dignity of her brother in death, is opposed to this action – ‘already there is a stench’ she says. Four days after burying a loved one’s body, it would be absolutely understandable to refuse to allow an exhumation of the body. But Jesus is assertive, decisive and confident. His confidence runs over as he thanks God for hearing him even before the miracle is apparent, and when the stone is rolled away, he calls Lazarus by name, shouting, ‘Lazarus, come out!’
Lazarus comes out from the dark tomb, and the people unwrap the cloths in which he is bound. His return to life is made possible by the actions of Jesus and of the community of people. God works to transform those things that are dead in our lives into new life, and calls us to be the hands, feet, eyes, ears of Jesus to one another, to help others to come alive.
There are three people set free from things that bind them in this story; three people for whom new life breathed into those parts of their lives that are no longer bringing them to life … Martha is set free from her anger and the potential hurts caused to her relationships by her angry words; Mary is set free from her depression; and Lazarus, for now, is set free from death. All of them are restored to being in good relationship with themselves, with one another, and with God. All of them are healed through the work of the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, and are brought to righteousness.
Jesus moves deeper into relationship with all of them, and Jesus does the same for us. He comes to meet us, however we are, and especially in our times of greatest fear, grief, and fragility. He meets us in those times with compassion, and strength, and raises us to new life with him, now and forever.
So let us pray, using words given to Ezekiel; Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon us and all that deadens us, that we may live. Amen