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March 13, 2005
The Gospel Under Wraps
John 11:1-45
In some places, Jesus' raising Lazarus from the dead would not be all that big a deal. I've been told that they've been getting the dead to vote in Chicago for many years. Lyndon Johnson got the nickname "Landslide Lyndon" because the cemetery vote gave him just the margin he needed to go to Congress. I have friends who are in a position to know that when Johnson won his next race by a much larger margin, people had accepted the way things are and said he'd stolen it fair and square. I don't know what system you all use here in Cedar Rapids, but you might want to look into the benefits of raising the dead.
I believe had Jesus been running for anything he'd have gotten several votes in Bethany that day. But the truth is Jesus had already been elected. He was just out fulfilling the duties of his office. The way Christians have always looked at things, Jesus was chosen by God Almighty—likely the biggest majority anyone's ever gotten; we didn't get a vote. And for that very reason, some haven't liked the outcome of that election. In fact, more than a few have worked hard to overturn it. But the way God Almighty looks at things, Jesus is unimpeachable.
A lot of people think he made some pretty outlandish claims and astonishing promises. You'd think he'd have been content just to have raised his friend Lazarus. That was plenty to dazzle the crowd. Being dazzling is not what Jesus is about. Jesus said to Martha, Lazarus' angry sister, "I am the resurrection and the life." And before she could figure that out, he goes on to promise: "Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." Before she could take that in, Jesus pressed on, pressed hard: "Do you believe this?" (John11:26 25, NRSV).
She said "yes." "Yes, Lord. I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world." Everything Martha says is correct. She'd paid attention in Sunday School; learned her catechism. Everything she says is embroiled in her anger. And why shouldn't she be angry. You tell the pastor your bother's ill. Two days later the pastor's yet to show. Then before the pastor gets there, your brother's dead. You bet she's angry. So little is she able to be satisfied, Martha stalks off to Mary, with an "OK you deal with him," attitude: "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." Not our friend, but the Teacher.
When Mary comes she opens with almost the same thing Martha said: "Lord if you'd have been here my brother would not have died." Mary is so full of sorrow—sorrow for her brother's death; sorrow that Jesus had not been there—that Jesus is moved, not to teach, but to tears. Anger and sorrow are common companions. But those who sorrow are more able to be loved than those who are angry. But finally, even angry people can have their fever broken by graciousness.
How do you respond when Jesus puts the question: "Do you believe this?" A lot of people say they struggle with their faith. Some things we're desperate to believe. According to a Harris Poll conducted last year 84% believed in some kind of survival of the soul after death, more if you're a woman or without a college degree; less if you're a man or have a college degree. It is possible to outsmart ourselves.
Jesus wasn't into the "immortality of the soul" kind of thing, but it's the closest pollsters have been able to get. Jesus is more about the resurrection of the dead than immortality of the soul. Immortality of the soul is about us. Resurrection is about God and the power of God to stand even against death. If you're into "immortality of the soul," then you can't really die; you're hardwired for some kind of survival. What Jesus believed and Christians believe is that when we die, we really die; we're done, finished, caput. Resurrection is not about some kind of inevitability; its about the power and mercy of God in raising us to new life, that is life anew.
For Jesus calling Lazarus back to life did not seem to be nearly so hard as getting people to believe who he is and what he's about. All it takes to get Lazarus back is for him to call out in a really loud voice. "Hey, Lazarus, come on out."
What does it take to get people to believe? We don't really believe that dead people in Chicago and Texas and Florida really voted. We know what happened in those places. The way John saw it, Lazarus could have actually voted. Some who were around that day believed about Jesus because they saw Lazarus alive and kicking. But others were hardened. When Lyndon Johnson won his first election to Congress with the "cemetery vote," you can bet plenty were angry. Magnify that anger by what we saw a few years back in Florida in the Presidential election. Democrats vowed "to get" George Bush. They failed. Religious leaders vowed "to get" Jesus. They succeeded. It's really hard to persuade some people.
If Jesus could just call out in a loud voice and have Lazarus live, why not just holler strong enough to make us believe? People there were persuaded that anyone who could make a man blind from birth see, could surely have kept Lazarus alive. When Jesus calls out to Lazarus and Lazarus steps forth, it reminds me of God creating the world. God said, and it was, and it was good. It reminds me of Ezekiel telling his compatriots that their bones would live again. Sometimes just the right word at the right time is plenty. Why not just call to us and have us believe?
Is calling someone from death to life is easier than getting us to believe? What would it take? Are our hearts so hard, harder even than death, colder even than the tomb, that even the voice of the Lord calling to us is not enough to have us believe? What would it take? An old Native American story tells of a shaggy, fierce, big-foot kind of creature who terrified all he met and ruled his domain by violence. A man and his wife don't know enough to be afraid. They invited the fierce and lonesome man into their home. It took three days before the raging man was overcome by their kindness, and he would eat anything. Kindness. Kindness that is not put off by anger. Kindness that responds to our grief and sorrow. Kindness that is grace.
We overhear Jesus ask Martha, "Do you believe this?" We all have questions? Some of us have a hard time believing because our questions go unanswered. But the gospel is not so much about our questions, as about our being questioned: "Do you believe this?"
THIS is the power of God at work in Christ to raise the dead to new life, life anew. Resurrection is about God's promise, a gift to be received by faith, in trust. Trust is not first of all about us, our trust, our faith. It's about God, and the trust God establishes.
We know about "trust" funds, about assets held "in trust." That's what Social Security is about, a trust fund, a matter of trust binding one generation to the next. The power of God to bring us to life, to bring us to faith, is a matter of trust. Not first of all our trust in God, but the trust God has set up for us. We didn't create it, we don't manage it, we just receive the benefits.
I know some trust babies who act like spoiled brats all their lives. They've been given a living and they live as if they deserved it. I know others who've received a great legacy who are empowered to be generous and gracious to others; they know they've received a great gift and realize that part of the character of gifts is to share them and the joy they bring. At one point the Apostle Paul says that the Holy Spirit is like a down-payment on that legacy, an assurance of the trust God has set up for us.
Boxed in anger and tied up with sorrow, it's hard for us to believe. Even when we're desperate it's still hard to rely on the trust the Lord has set up for us. Between anger and sorrow kindness runs a relentless course. Violence seems to be the way lots of things get changed. The "just war" theory is one of the ways we have of making violence seem OK. Some are thinking more and more that Christians should devote themselves to fostering a "just peace."
It seems to take graciousness longer to work. It even works under wraps. Anger and sorrow seem to come early and stay late. Graciousness has a way of wearing them down. What is that wonderful kindness that finally draws us out of our hard, cold hearts? What is that graciousness that will not let us go until we believe the one who could call another from death to life? Do you believe that?
We imagine it's hard to believe, to trust the one who has set up the trust by which we are able to live. It is hard. But the Lord has trust in store for us. And if it takes calling a man from death to life, despite the anger, despite the sorrow, so that we might believe and receive God's blessing of life, God's been known to do that. Do you believe that?
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First Presbyterian
Church of Cedar Rapids
310 Fifth Street SE Cedar Rapids, IA 52401
Phone: 319-364-6148
E-mail: church@fpccr.org
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