Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | March 17, 2024

John 11:1-44

The story is told of Jesus visiting the family of a friend who had died. He said to them, Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

It is often when we are feeling most vulnerable that we hear these words spoken. Death for some is a blessed relief and for some it is a tragic ending. Most times when someone dies there are family and friends who suffer a profound sense of loss. Sometimes not. We all want to live long, happy and healthy lives. The painful irony of life is that the longer we live, the more we experience loss. The people we know and love, our friends and family “die on us.” Resurrection and life can be difficult realities to grasp in the face of loss. Grief is often a long journey.

The first funeral I ever conducted taught me much about every funeral that came after. The man was 87 years old. He lived alone and he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He decided to end his life and so he killed himself.

At the time I was finishing my seminary studies and commuting between my north woods parish in Aitken County and Bethel Seminary in St. Paul. I asked one of my professors about how to handle the situation.

He said, “Don’t worry about how he died; think about speaking to those who are living.”

I went to the school library and looked for funeral resources. I found a book there called The Abingdon Funeral Manual. In it were helpful resources on the structure and content of funeral services. I used some of the author’s material and cobbled together a funeral service for the man who had died. The heart of the service in speaking to the living were the words of Jesus – “I am the resurrection and the life.”

The irony of it was the author of The Abingdon Funeral Manual was Perry Harvey Biddle, Jr. At the time I could never have imagined that one day he would be my father-in-law and that I would conduct his funeral service using materials that he had written.

But life is full of ironies. At each and every funeral service, when we face the reality of the finality of death, we add what might be called an exception to the rule. We say, “In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life…”

What makes us so sure we can be certain of anything beyond the grave? What we are actually saying is that the only thing we are sure and certain of is our hope. Hope that the words might actually point to a greater reality than what we can see and touch for ourselves.

Under any circumstances, “I am the resurrection and the life” is a bold claim. The story is found in the Gospel of John. The story of Jesus as told by “John” is a well-constructed tale. It is full of symbolism – of how one thing represents another thing. From past stories we have learned how Nicodemus was power; the woman at the well was oppressed peoples; the blind man was human nature. John’s story also mirrors some of the Old Testament stories.

As Moses faced the mystery of the burning bush in the wilderness, from which spoke the voice of God saying, “I AM who I AM,” so too Jesus encounters people seeking some sense of God. Along the way he reveals God through a series of “I AM” moments. These stories are told as moments of enlightenment. In each case, there is something new revealed, some new aspect of God’s realm to be “seen.”

         He was the life and light to all people.

         He was the living water to those who thirst for God.

         He was the bread of life to those who hunger for God.

He was the true vine for those who wondered about their connection to God.

And for those who faced death, he said, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

One day word came to Jesus that his friend Lazarus was ill. He wasn’t just feeling poorly, he was dying. Jesus responded in an odd way, for him. Instead of going to see his friend and maybe offering him some sense of peace or healing, he waited. He stalled actually until Lazarus had died.

By the time he did go to his friends, Lazarus had been dead for four days. The sisters of Lazarus were none too happy with Jesus and they told him so. “You could have prevented this from happening,” they said. For all his talk, he sure didn’t come through when the situation called for it, let alone when they needed him the most.

The story seems to illustrate that being a friend of Jesus is no protection against the realities of life. Life happens no matter what; and a big part of that no matter what is death. I’ve encountered many people over the years who have based their belief system on the idea that being “a good Christian” should have some reward. Usually this reward is in the form of a cosmic “get out of jail free” card.

When life happens and things go wrong and people die, it can be life shattering. But when you have always thought it wasn’t supposed to happen that way, you can get angry at God.

“God, where were you when I really needed you?!”

To someone who really needed him and who felt utterly let down by him, Jesus said, “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.” What could he possibly be saying? People always die and no one has ever just lived on and on.

Believing, seeing the realm of God with the eyes of the soul, coming alive to it, what he called being “born from above;” the mystery of eternal life – always here and now. Not for ever and ever into the uncharted future, but here and now.

After saying this to his friend Martha Jesus asked her a question, “Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world. And in that belief, I see that you are a good man, an honest man, even a powerful man. I believe that you have an opinion of yourself that is not widely held. Even so, you are an example that I can live by. But as for holding sway over death, I think you’ve reached beyond your grasp.”

There are many people who give such an intellectual assent to Jesus. A word of acknowledgment that basically boils down to a two-word assessment: so what?

The other way to look at Martha’s answer is this: “Lord, I can’t grasp the logic of your statement, because it doesn’t make sense. If those who believe in you will never die, and my brother died, what does that say? He believed in you. So I will say, yes, I believe because I believe in you. I don’t fully understand how it works, and I can’t fully grasp a word like eternal, but I believe you, and my hope is that you are the one who brings the future into the present.”

One of the problems we have with the answer of faith is that it is not logical. It is not based on reason. It is believing that not even mountains can get in the way of where you need to go. There is no way to prove faith. Stories about what faith accomplishes will not convince the skeptic, and they are not necessary to the faithful.

The rest of the story is almost an afterthought to that central question, “do you believe this?” Jesus went to the tomb and raised Lazarus from the dead. When people saw Lazarus leave the tomb, after being dead for four days, some people said, “Praise God,” and some people said, “We’d better report this to the authorities.”

It would be easy to take this story and apply it by saying, “He will raise you up, just like he raised Lazarus.” We could take that promise with us and live with a sense of expectation and hope. The problem is that the reality of our lives presents a different story. There are some tombs that remain sealed.

The longer we live, the more likely it is that we will develop a kind of graveyard. A place where we lay to rest our disappointment, pain and grief. Maybe in those tombs we find broken relationships, forgotten hopes, unrealized dreams; we might find laid to rest there our self-esteem or self-worth; we may find in those tombs our very selves – our true selves as God created us.

It’s hard to know sometimes what needs to stay buried, and what needs to be raised up from the graveyard.  The only way to know is to say along with Martha, “Yes, I believe,” and then to go and face those tombs, and call out to God for resurrection and life. What needs to stay dead and buried will stay, and what needs to come to life will rise again.

For what remains in the graveyard of our lives, we need to grieve, and we need to heal. The resurrection and life that Jesus brings to those situations is not making it the way it was before but bringing us to a place of healing and peace. Moving toward healing and peace is often the longest journey we will ever make.

When we face the graveyard, we realize just how powerless we actually are. We cannot forestall the inevitable. But the thought of our own vulnerability is often the birthplace of God’s Spirit coming alive in us.  In the words “I am the resurrection and the life” we are reminded that even in the bleakest of situations we are not far from the realm of God. Sometimes that is the best we can do. We rely on God to do the rest. Amen.