Sermon: 5th Sunday in Lent
29 March 2020 – Archdeacon Mark Long
Ezekiel 37:1-14 and John 11:1-45
Our collect for today speaks of God as the God of all consolation and hope. It never ceases to amaze me how apt both the weekly collect and the readings are for the context of our lives: a wonderful reminder that God knows our need well before we are aware enough to put words to it all.
Today we need consolation, and we need hope. Our lives have been turned upside down in these last days: what was normal – shaking hands, hugging, kissing, gathering together – is now dangerous and potentially life threatening for ourselves and for others. In preparation for lockdown I found myself uncertain, anxious, my attention scattered as we prepared to isolate ourselves physically from each other; and I am sure this is your experience, too. Now that we are in lockdown we at least have this new reality to centre us, and I am hugely thankful for our digital world, for email, WhatsApp, and social media; and I am learning about Zoom and other ways for us to gather in isolation, so important, especially for those who are alone in their homes. Disturbingly, I am aware of my privilege, of having the space to isolate myself from others while so many of my compatriots are living in high-density environments where creating social distancing is all but impossible.
As a global community we find ourselves in the valley of death described by Ezekiel, or at Lazarus’ graveside with Martha and Mary. We experience the anxious desolation of uncertainty, even fear, of the havoc this new virus is wreaking. We listen to the news, take in the data, and wonder what it all means for our future: how different will the world be when our isolation, this lockdown, eventually ends? We see, but struggle to really comprehend, not only the threat to life, but also the major economic hardships that will ensue. In a world in which we thought we had control, we are vulnerable, exposed, and our resources evaporating before our eyes. Ezekiel’s valley of desolation, a battle lost, an army cut down, lifeless bones scattered in every direction, threatens to become our future reality.
As Ezekiel surveys the valley, as Martha and Mary stand with their community before Lazarus’ grave, there is seemingly no real help. They, like us, know that death is irrevocable. And yet God is present: Ezekiel is commanded to prophesy to the dry bones, and God’s word brings new life; Jesus commands Lazarus to come for the from the grave, and new life is engendered; where there was only desolation now there is the surprise of life where no life should be, but there it is!
The reading from Ezekiel 37 reflects on a destroyed Nation, a reminder that humanity is but dust. But it is more, it is a reminder that God created and that God can re-create, and that no matter how seemingly irrevocable a situation may be, when the word of God is spoken it is the breath that imparts life to humanity, and hope is possible. The Nation is rebuilt, and repurposed, and the dry bones of Nationalism and political intrigue become the enfleshed body of community given life by the Spirit, by the breath of God, and the community is called to hope; not just hope, but to faith and love, too. And we are seeing this amongst South Africans as we hold to the lockdown, as we seek to protect one another from this disease, as we converse together in our WhatsApp groups and other online forums, as we seek to hold each other accountable.
The reading from John 11 we find Mary and Martha, and their community, gathered without any expectation of Lazarus being restored to life – except perhaps in the end times, on the “last day”. There is no belief in the possibility of life. However, Jesus is now present, and we see that it is the presence and activity of God – not human belief or lack of belief – that is the source of life and hope. Mary and Martha are angry, or if not angry they are deeply disappointed, that Jesus was not there in Lazarus’ hour of need to heal and restore him, and they hold no expectation; even the community is dived, some seeing Jesus’ clear love for Lazarus in the tears he sheds, others sneering. As Jesus calls Lazarus to rise from the sleep of death, there is no expectation, no hope, no belief in those around him; and yet Lazarus comes forth from the tomb. It is the presence and power of God, the Word of God, the breath (Spirit) of God that imparts life.
This is our hope as we face the devastating rampage of Covid-19 through the ranks of humanity, Nation upon Nation, upon Nation. Our hope is not in medical intervention – although we are deeply thankful for the gifts of medical science, for health care, and for those who work tirelessly and often at their own peril to understand the disease and thwart its advance – but as people of Faith our hope is in God who is present, in God who’s Word reconnects bones and enfleshes them, whose breath (Spirit) enlivens and raises to new opportunity and potential.
The baptism creed calls us to believe and trust in God who creates and re-creates, who redeems and restores, who gives life and sustains that life. In today’s collect we entreated God to pour out the Spirit – to breath – on us. Why? That we may face despair and death in the hope of resurrection! Or in simpler words, that we might not see this novel Caronavirus as an ultimate enemy, but as a tool that awakens us again to our true humanity, to what it means to truly be in community with God, with our world, and with each other; what it means to truly hold to faith, hope, and love.
Let us keep the faith. In the words of Hebrews 10:23 (NRSV), “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful.”
And in these days of lockdown, of being a Church scattered to our homes, let’s remember that our worship of God is not limited to a building (as beautiful as many are) or to a space. God is present wherever, and however, the Church (the people) of God find themselves.
No comments:
Post a Comment