5th Sunday of Lent, Year A (March 9, 2008)
14/03/08 17:22
5th Sunday of Lent, Year A
March 9, 2008
The Answer the Death: It’s Friday, but Sunday is Comin’
Two years ago, Ash Wednesday of 2006, I lost one of my best friends to cancer. Charlotte Salazar and her husband, Dan, ran our parish’s marriage preparation program for more than 20 years. They always counseled young couples preparing for marriage to discuss not just the good things they hoped for in life, but also, to anticipate and talk through how they might react to the pain and tragedy – sickness, for example, and even the death of their partner. Charlotte and Dan knew from firsthand experience these pains – she had battled cancer for more than two decades, mostly successfully, until the end. She and Dan were a joyful, faith-filled couple. They loved to sing, dance. They traveled with me to Notre Dame once for an ordination. They were always fixing wonderful meals for the priests and even the bishop. We went out to eat a lot together, which is one of the reasons I arrived here in Coachella so fat. A few years before Charlotte’s death, I was blessed to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. There’s truly was a marriage made in heaven.
At Charlotte’s funeral, we put together a video, which I want to share with you this morning. I know that none of you knew Charlotte, but in a sense, the video reflects a bit of all of our lives – how we start out as little children, then as teenagers, then young adulthood and often, marriage; then the birth of the first child; more children; and they grow up; and we grow older; grandchildren; old age; and, as you will see in the video, in Charlotte’s case, sometimes sickness; finally, death. In Lent, we’re not supposed to say the word “Alleluia” – but in this video, we’re going to make an exception, for two reasons: (1) this was the song we used with this video; and (2) it really is a “Lenten” alleluia, if you will, somewhat joyful, somewhat sad, as is death always. The song even says it is a “cold and broken Hallelujah.” Watch and listen…
[Show video]
Death is never easy. How many here have lost a friend or loved one? Perhaps some here are struggling at this very moment with the loss of a parent, a spouse, a child, a grandparent, a friend… As a culture, we don’t like to talk about death. We even make jokes about it sometimes, just to ease our pain. Example: Woody Allen once said, “I’m not afraid of dying; I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Or the tale of three young men, discussing what they hoped people would say about them at their funeral. The first hoped people would remember him as a good husband and father. The second hoped people would remember him for his kindness and generosity, and his contribution to the community. The third said, “At my funeral, I hope they look at me in the casket and say, ‘Look! He’s moving!” We laugh, because sometimes laughter eases the pain, eases the sting. But we all know that in reality, death is no laughing matter.
Last year, I read an article in Commonweal magazine, “The Sting of Death: Why We Yearn for Eternity.” In the article, the author wrote: “Many people today have the greatest difficulty finding a way to speak to our strongest feelings about death…We very often feel awkward at a funeral, don’t know what to say to the bereaved, and are often tempted to avoid the dissue if we can. At the same time, even people who otherwise don’t practice religion have recourse to religious funerals, perhaps because here at least is a language that fits the need for eternity, even if you’re not sure you believe all that.” (Charles Taylor, professor emeritus of philosophy, McGill University, “The Sting of Death: Why We Yearn for Eternity” in Commonweal Magazine, October 12, 2007)
What is the Christian answer to death? Christian writer and speaker Tony Campolo summed it up in a single sentence: “It’s Friday, but Sunday is comin’.” He heard that expression while attending an African-American church service. It was repeated over and over: “It’s Friday, but Sunday is comin’.” That’s what we celebrate this season: Lent, the cross, the crucifixion and death of Jesus, Good Friday – but Easter, the resurrection, new life, Sunday is comin’.
The readings in this Lenten season continually focus us on new life: (1) The transfiguration, and how God’s power, God’s love, transforms us; (2) Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, how love heals and transforms us, how Jesus offers us “living water” that lasts to eternity in a spiritual well that never goes dry; (3) Jesus healing a blind man, restoring his sight, healing him, and how Jesus is also our light, is also the “light of the world” to heal us of our blind spots, to restore our sight, to transform us into people of light and vision; and (4) today, all three of our readings speaking about life.
First, we have he marvelous, great news of Ezekiel the prophet, from the Old Testament. Our reading today is the immediate follow up to Ezekiel’s vision of dry bones in the desert, resuscitating – but not on their own power, but only with the power of God’s spirit. The context is important here. Ezekiel is not talking about physical resuscitation of our physical bodies. He’s talking about a community that has become dry, dead, spiritually. Israel is in exile, in bondage, in Persia. But now, God promises to restore them to new life. “I am the Lord. I have promised, and I will do it.” God makes the same promise to us – “I will do it.” It may seem like Friday, but Sunday is comin’.
Our second reading builds on the first. Saint Paul reminds us that we, too, are called to live in the power of God’s spirit, which sustains us and brings us to new life.
Finally, in our gospel, we have the “sign” of Lazarus. In John’s gospel, every miracle of Jesus is really a “sign.” That means it is not meant to stand on it’s own, but rather, it points to a deeper, more profound spiritual reality or truth. Jesus himself says as much: This miracle, this sign “is for the glory of God. I, the Son of God, will receive glory from this.”
We so often misunderstand God’s power. When we hear the word “power,” we think of brute force – dynamite, bombs, guns, missiles, nuclear energy. Remember a few weeks ago, when I asked you, “Is water more powerful than rock?” And we saw a photo of the Grand Canyon and the power of water, over the centuries, to carve out a massive canyon from the rock. God’s power is relational, persuasive, not coercive. It is the power of love, not the power of brute force. God’s life is spirit, in us, nudging us and moving us to carve out a world to God’s liking, a world of peace and justice and righteousness, the Reign of God.
Lazarus was resuscitated, but he eventually died. That’s because the “sign” in our gospel today is not meant to speak primarily of physical resurrection of a corpse. It is meant to show us that eternity begins here and now, not just in some far off future. It is “both/and,” not “either/or.” We believe in the afterlife, in heaven and hell, in life eternal, but we also believe that the life of Jesus begins here and now, in our hearts and in our world, in time, in us. Jesus tells Martha, who thinks only in terms of the future, but not in the here and now: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die like everyone else” – for you see, Jesus tells us specifically to expect death – “will live again. They are given eternal life for believing in me and will never perish.” Both/and, not either/or. But now, the punchline, the question which is also Jesus’ question to us: “Do you believe this?”
There are three kinds of death: (1) Physical death of our physical bodies; (2) spiritual death, which is far more dangerous – Jesus tells us to be careful not to gain the whole world, but lose our very souls; and (3) cultural death, a culture of death which is sometimes pervasive in our own society and, perhaps, in all societies throughout human history. Last week, at the reconciliation service in Indio, Fr. Dennis showed a wonderful short video presentation about the culture of death today, and our challenge and our hope as Christians in promoting an alternative vision, a culture of life. Watch the video:
[show video]
What do the images evoke? Tears? Frustration? Anger? Life and death ought to evoke in us our deepest feelings and emotions, or care and our compassion, our yearning for righteousness and justice. That is the spirit of God, the very life of God, in us. Death roars, but we Christians proclaim that life triumphs over death. It may be Friday, but Sunday is comin’.
Here are five clear, concrete ways we as Christians respond to death.
First, we are realists. We don’t deny the reality of death – physical, spiritual or cultural. Catholic writer Peter Kreeft writes: “I have a terminal illness… You too have a terminal illness. We are never mistaken in our prognosis of this illness: Life is always fatal. No one gets out of it alive. ‘As doctors, when they examine the state of a patient a recognize that death is at hand, pronounce: ‘He is dying, he will not recover,’ so we must say from the moment a man is born: ‘He will not recover.’ ” (Christian writer Peter Kreeft in his book, “Love Is Stronger Than Death”) Jesus warns us to always be alert and ready: “You must be ready all the time, for the Son of Man will come when least expected.” (Luke 12:40, NLT)
If you compress the average human life of 70 years into a single day, 9 a.m. to 11 p.m., here is where you are, based on your age:
If the average human life (70 years) is compressed into a day, 7 a.m. to 11 p.m.
Age 15: It’s now 10:25 a.m. Age 50: It’s now 6:25 p.m.
Age 30: It’s now 1:50 p.m. Age 60: It’s now 8:40 p.m.
Age 40: It’s now 4 p.m. Age 65: It’s now 9:50 p.m.
Second, like all people, we mourn. Today’s gospel contains the shortest verse in the Bible: “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35, NLT) But although Jesus was saddened by the death of his friend Lazarus, and so, he wept – I think his tears in this gospel might have been at the spiritual death all around him of the Pharisees and disbelievers, those who were attacking him and who were spiritually dead, who refused to believe in the signs he was giving to them. They were lost, blind. You see, physical death is inevitable for everyone, and Jesus understood that. He himself would die on the cross. Lazarus would later die again, and so, too, his two sisters, Martha and Mary. Jesus was crying not about physical death, but about spiritual death. Christian writer Frederick Buechner writes: “You should always pay attention to both your laughter and your tears. They come from the deep places of your soul.”
Third, we Christians have a “holy longing,” a yearning for eternity. Last week, I attended a wonderful lecture at Sacred Heart Parish in Palm Desert by Fr. Ronald Rohlheiser, a noted Catholic author and speaker. His most famous book is entitled The Holy Longing. He talked about how we, as human beings, are so vastly different from animals and plants, because the very fire of God is inside us. We have a soul. We alone are aware of our existence, of past, present and future, of eternity, which is imprinted into the very fabric of our being. Plants and animals merely exist. We live. Jesus offers us hope for our future, a “holy longing” for God and for eternity. Jesus, in our gospel, told Martha: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die like everyone else, will live again. They are given eternal life for believing in me and will never perish. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26, NLT) And we, too, must answer the same question that Jesus asks also of us: Do you believe this?
The famous 19th century evangelist D.L. Moody once said: “One day you will read in the newspaper that D. L. Moody of East Northfield, Massachusetts is dead. Well, don't believe a word of it. I will have gone up higher, that's all. Out of this old clay tenement into a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. And at that moment, I will be more alive than I have ever been.” (19th Century Evangelist D.L. Moody)
Fourth, Christians respond to death with joy. Saint Irenaeus, in the late 2nd century, said: “The glory of God is a Christian fully alive!” We do not fear death, because we know that death is not the end of the story. We are infused with life – the fire of God inside of us, God’s image imprinted indelibly in each of our hearts and on each of our lives. Catholic philosopher Peter Kreeft wrote a marvelous little book, Love Is Stronger Than Death, in which he looked at five ways people view death: Death as an enemy, as a stranger, as a friend, as a mother and as a lover. Nonbelievers see death as the great enemy, and the great stranger who invades the world and robs us of our joy. Christians see death not as an enemy but as a friend to be embraced, and as a mother to give us new birth into our new life in heaven, and as a lover because death makes possible our entry into heaven, where we are embraced forever by God’s all encompassing love.
Finally, in the face of death, we Christians respond with action, not despair. Where are my own blind spots? Where am I dead or dying, spiritually? What are concrete ways I can make sure that I stay fully alive, spiritually and mentally, emotionally and physically?
I want to end with a modern day Lazarus story – the miracle of a brother’s song (see The Word: In and Out of Season, by William J. Bausch, pp/ 82-83). The story is about a couple, pregnant. They have a 3-year-old son, who sings his favorite song, “You Are My Sunshine,” to his little baby sister, inside mom’s belly. The time nears for birth. Mom rushes to the hospital. There are serious complications. The newly born little girl lingers on the edge of death. Doctors tell the parents to prepare for a funeral. Little Michael, 3, keeps wanting to sing to his little sister, but children are not allowed into ICU. A week goes by. Michael keeps insisting. Finally, mom sneaks him in, past the nurses. The head nurse objects, but mild mannered mom becomes a lion. “He’s not leaving until he sings to his sister!” Little Michael begins the song – “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray…” The baby responds. Her pulse rate becomes calm, steady. He erratic breathing slows, becomes smooth as a kitten’s purr. “Keep on singing, Michael, keep on singing,” urges mom. Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day, the very next day, the little girl is well enough to go home.
True story. Do all stories end like this, with such a happy ending. Yes and no. No, in the sense that death is real, not everyone gets a second chance. Yes, in the sense of eternity, for we as Christians are a resurrection people, with a God of life.
That’s the great and marvelous news of our Gospel, of our readings today. God changes us, transforms us, heals us of our blindness, restores us to new life. He tells us, “I am the resurrection. Do not be afraid. I am with you always. Trust in me. For I am a God of life, not death!” Do you believe this?