THE UNPREACHED HOMILY
IF IT’S NOT ALL RIGHT
THEN IT’S NOT YET THE END OF THE STORY
Ezekiel 37: 12-14; Romans 8: 8-11; John 11: 1-45
Something unusual happened this month . . . well A LOT of unusual things have happened this month! But I’m not referring to what you probably think I’m referring to. Usually, at the end of the month or the very beginning of a new month, the priests and deacons receive their schedule – who is assigned to what mass on a particular Sunday. But whereas this month’s schedule listed the priests’ assignments . . . Fr. Rick would say this Mass, Fr. Dulibber that Mass, Fr. Jorge one of the others . . . the deacons weren’t assigned to any! Of course I’m still trying to figure out if this was a mistake, or if Fr. Rick was not-so-subtly trying to tell Deacon Joe and I something, or if somehow the secretaries in the rectory had prior knowledge of the coming pandemic that the rest of us didn’t have. But the really strange thing is that Deacon Joe and I were assign to one weekend – this one – to preach. Reflecting on that the other day, I kind of started wondering if maybe God’s hand is somewhere in that . . . that, despite the pandemic and despite the fact that I’m not in church right now standing at the pulpit, there’s something important that God wants me to say and something important that he wants you to hear.
One of three things usually happens when I first read over the Scripture passages I’m scheduled to preach on. Sometimes – VERY RARELY – I’ll read the readings and I’ll run, (well actually I haven’t run since 1991 . . . so maybe rush is a better word) to my computer and the homily practically writes itself. I somehow miraculously, and with little effort or deep reflection, know exactly what I want to say and how I want to say it. But more often then not, I’ll read the Scripture, scratch my head and say, “Now what exactly am I supposed to say about this!” And I’ll spend many painful hours praying and reflecting until somehow – again perhaps miraculously – God clues me in with the message he wants me to hear, the one he wants you to hear as well. But sometimes, I’ll read the Gospel passage and it’s so rich, there’s just so much in there, I’m confronted with another altogether different dilemma: of all that God has revealed in that particular passage, what’s the one element he wants me to focus on.
That was my struggle this weekend. There’s just SO MUCH in John’s narrative of the raising of Lazarus. There are so many elements that make this story so compelling - not the least of which is that Jesus brought a dead man back to life!
But the story also reveals that Jesus, who loved everyone, also had some best friends. St. John points out clearly that Jesus had a special love for, and a particular relationship with, Martha and Mary and Lazarus.
There’s also the revelation of Jesus’ humanity, captured in the shortest verse in the whole Bible, just three words: And Jesus wept. (John 11:35)
This gospel also tells us, not once but twice, that Jesus was perturbed. This is a one-word translation of the three Greek words ἐνεβριμήσατο τῷ πνεύματι, which would be better translated: “he was deeply moved and shuddered in his spirit.” This was clearly an emotional moment in the life and ministry of Jesus.
And yet, the element, the verse, the words in this story that caught my greatest attention are these: “he remained in the place where he was for two days.” His special friends, Martha and Mary, had sent word to him that his beloved Lazarus was dying, yet “he remained in the place where he was for two days.” And both Mary and Martha ultimately let Jesus know exactly how they felt about this delay. Both said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
But Jesus waited two days before setting out for Bethany and when he finally got there, Lazarus had already died. Perhaps Jesus’ delay tested the faith of Martha and Mary - at least I’m sure that his delay stretched and deepened their faith. For even after her dead brother had been buried, Martha said, “Even now, Lord, I believe God will give you what you ask for.” Not even the death and burial of her brother shook her faith in God.
Of course, this story has a happy and miraculous ending: Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. But we can’t forget that later, we don’t know exactly when, Lazarus died a second time and that time Jesus didn’t come to open up a tomb. Jesus gave him the gift of that life which is forever . . . eternal . . . one of indescribable joy . . . one of inexplicable peace . . . one of ultimate and profound love.
The fact that Jesus delayed going to Bethany for two days strikes me because I’ve known that same delay in my own life and I’m sure you have known it in your life as well. How many times have we wanted, needed something good to happen; wanted, needed for Jesus to get on the road and come to our home, our family, our hearts. How many times have we wondered, have we prayed, have we cried: “JESUS, WHERE ARE YOU?” How many times have we asked, “JESUS, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” “JESUS, GET A MOVE ON!” “JESUS, WON’T YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING?”
Are you, like Martha and Mary, waiting for Jesus to come? Have you been waiting two days? Two weeks? Two months? Two years? Or twenty-two years or more? Because I don’t know, I can’t tell you why he delays in coming. But I can assure you, that he knows you’re waiting . . . waiting for something good to happen . . . and that he WILL, finally, come, and that ALL shall be well . . . that all shall be well and that all manner of things shall be well . . . And that as the saying goes: “Everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end of the story.”
And today, we are not in church together. You’re not in your usual pew and I’m not now standing at the ambo. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – separated . . . fearful . . . keeping safe social distancing from each other. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – having to be content watching Mass on our televisions, or our computers or our phones. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – watching FOX or CNN, listening to the so-called experts offer us conflicting predictions of when this will all end . . . when safety will once again come to our town . . . to our country . . . to our world. You’re in your home and I’m in mine – and we, like Mary and Martha cry out, “LORD, WHERE ARE YOU?” “LORD, WHY ARE YOU DELAYED?” “WHEN WILL YOU ARRIVE, LORD?” “WHEN WILL YOU BESTOW YOUR LOVING, HEALING TOUCH TO OUR LIVES AND TO OUR WORLD” “LORD, WHEN WILL THE STONE OF THE CORONAVIRUS BE ROLLED BACK AND WE WILL HEAR YOUR CALM, STRONG, REASSURING VOICE BIDDING US TO COME OUT OF OUR TOMBS, THAT ALL IS WELL?” “WHEN, LORD, WHEN? WE HAVE WAITED MORE THEN TWO DAYS . . . WE HAVE WAITED MORE THAN TWO WEEKS. WHEN, O LORD, WILL YOU ARRIVE?
Only God can answer those questions that are in your heart and are in mine. But we have his word . . . we have his eternal promise, “I will be with you always, yes even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). We have the assurance from Him that God has never abandoned his people, that He is a God of power and might, that He is a God of goodness and love, that He is a God who hears AND ANSWERS his people. And maybe, like Martha and Mary, in our wait, we are being called to stretch and deepen our faith.
So many times during the season of Lent, we hear the words of the prophet Isaiah recalled for us, words which speak of the coming Messiah as the Suffering Servant of God. So in the midst of our suffering, let us recall that Jesus knows well our sufferings, for he too suffered, and he too, on the cross, felt abandoned. But let us also be reminded of something else Isaiah said, and let it console us in these times as we wait:
“But those who wait for the Lord shall
renew their strength,
they will sprout wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint”. (Isaiah 40:31)
