This morning's sermon will be part New Testament lecture and
part sermon, so bear with me.
New Testament scholars divide the gospels into two groups:
Matthew, Mark, and Luke are the synoptic gospels. "Synoptic" means
"with the same eyes". For the most part, they tell the story of Jesus
the same way. However, one big difference is that Mark begins the story of
Jesus' life with his baptism, but Matthew and Luke add an account of Jesus'
birth.
The fourth gospel, the so-called gospel of John, takes us
back even further. John takes us back to the creation of the universe. He tells
us that Jesus is the very agent of creation, God's creative and dynamic word.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word
was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through
him, and without him was not anything made that was made."
The author pulls back the curtain, and just for a second he
allows us to see Jesus for who he really is - the source of life itself.
The fourth gospel is also unique in that it is the only
gospel that names its author, but that creates a great mystery. At the very end
of the 21st chapter of John, the author writes, "Peter turned and saw
following them the disciple whom Jesus loved ....This is the disciple who is
bearing witness to these things, and who has written these things; and
we know that his testimony is true." But who is the "disciple whom
Jesus loved" or the "beloved disciple"?
According to The DaVinci Code Mary Magdalen was the
"beloved disciple," but I'm sorry - Dan Brown was wrong. Tradition
tells us that the beloved disciple was
John. However, nowhere is John identified as the beloved disciple. So, who
wrote the Fourth Gospel? I believe if we read the fourth gospel very carefully,
we can learn who the author really is. More about that later.
The Fourth Gospel falls neatly into two parts.
The first part is the Book of Signs. "Sign" is the
author's word for "miracle." The first sign is the transformation of
water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana. The author says, "This, the
first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and
his disciples believed in him."
In all, there are seven signs or miracles: turning water
into wine, healing a Roman official's servant, healing a paralytic, feeding the
five thousand, walking on water, giving sight to a man born blind, and the
sequence climaxes with the greatest miracle of all - raising Lazarus from death
to life.
The second part of the Fourth Gospel is the Book of Glory. Immediately
after the story of the raising of Lazarus, some Greek-speaking Jews say to the
apostle Phillip, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." In response, Jesus
says, "The hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified. Truly, truly,
I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains
alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses
it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal
life." In other words, Jesus
identifies his death on the cross with his glorification. By extension, those
who follow Jesus and give up their lives for his sake, will share his glory.
The story of Lazarus is the turning point, the hinge on
which the Fourth Gospel turns. The story is almost too familiar to repeat, but
that won't prevent me from repeating it. Lazarus' sisters - Mary and Martha -
send a message to Jesus saying that their brother Lazarus is desperately ill.
So what does Jesus do? He waits! He procrastinates! I can sympathize!
The text tells us that Jesus waited two days before setting
out. When Jesus and his disciples finally arrive in Bethany, they not only find
that Lazarus has died, but his funeral has taken place, and he has been in the
tomb for four days.
To me, the most moving part of this story is not the
powerful miracle that Jesus performs. It is not his grand announcement to
Martha, saying, "I am the resurrection and the life." What most moves
me is that Jesus wept. If he were the
Son of God, then we would expect him to be able to raise the dead. What we
would not expect is that he would be moved by human suffering. This story tells
us that the heart of God breaks at the sight of human pain and suffering, that
human tears run down the face of God. God loves us and when we weep, God also weeps.
Now, picture the scene: Jesus takes his stand before the
tomb of Lazarus. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists. He reaches down
into the very depths of his being, summoning all the divine power which he
possesses, and then these words roll like thunder among the hills:
"Lazarus! Come forth!"
Imagine the awe of the spectators. Can you see the wonder
and perhaps even fear in the faces of Mary and Martha? The sweat rolling down
Jesus' face? Then... Lazarus, bound by the clothes of the grave, smelling of
the tomb and decay, comes forth.
But... have you ever thought about what Lazarus was feeling?
Did something like an electric current run through Lazarus'
heart? Was he overjoyed at being restored to life? Or... is it just possible
that the principal thought in Lazarus' mind was, "Oh, no... not
again"?
Was Lazarus thrilled by being raised from the dead, or is it
possible that he had settled down for an eternal snooze; that he had embraced
the peace of the grave and was not all that thrilled by having to go back to
the 9 to 5 grind, the "heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that
flesh is heir to"?
I want to suggest to you that the story of the raising of
Lazarus is John's way of summing up Jesus' message to Nicodemus: You must be
born again.
The story of Lazarus is about the possibility of new birth,
second chances, starting all over again. But it is also about our resistance to
those possibilities.
You and I become wedded to the routine, the every day. We
become resistant to new ideas and new ways of doing things.
It goes without saying that I have no idea what it is like
to give birth, but I'm told that it is not easy. How could it be easy? It takes
nine months? It is accompanied by a multitude of aches and pains. Labor can go
on for more than 24 hours.
Our evangelical friends tell us that we can be born again in
the blink of an eye. Really? Spiritual gestation is that easy and quick? I
don't think so.
Christ Church is going through a season of new birth, and it
is going to be a long and difficult process. There is some resistance here to
God's invitation to us to new life.
I strongly suspect that both Lazarus and Nicodemus were
Episcopalians. There is a reason that we are called the "frozen
chosen"! Put yourself in Nicodemus's place. Imagine Jesus saying to you,
"You must be born again." Now think about that for a minute. If you
were born again, you would not get to choose the new life to which you will be
born. You would have to give up your present life. Everything would change. I
wonder if Nicodemus thought: "Born again? Give up my status, my position
in the world? Thanks very much, but I like my life the way it is."
Or put yourself in the place of Lazarus. The tomb is a
peaceful place. Perhaps his life had been hard and challenging. Perhaps he had
suffered from a chronic, debilitating, painful illness. Death might have come
as a blessed release. Then, suddenly, Lazarus was thrust back into the midst of
the hustle and bustle of the world, the reality of bills to pay, chores to
perform, a job to do. I imagine he had mixed feelings about obeying Jesus'
summons to come forth.
God is summoning this church to new life. I say this with
profound love for all of you and for this church: There is some resistance to
change and new life. There are patterns of conflict that are deeply embedded in
this church's culture. And the fuel for conflict is rumor and gossip. Sisters
and brothers, we must change these patterns. We must let our life together be
ruled by truth and transparency. We must let our speech about each other
proceed from love and charity. And when we do that, the conflict will end.
Now, imagine what will happen if we accept Jesus’ invitation
to be born again. The Book of Signs transitions into the Book of Glory. The
invitation to be born again, to die to our old lives, is also an invitation to
share God's glory.
Now, what about the great mystery at the heart of the Fourth
Gospel? Who wrote it? Who was the
disciple whom Jesus loved, the beloved disciple? Who was he... or she?
Listen to these words from the story of the raising of
Lazarus: When Martha summons Jesus to come and heal her brother, she says,
"Lord he whom you love is ill." And when Jesus receives her message,
the text says, "Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Laz'arus."
And when Jesus weeps, the bystanders say, "See how he loved him."
Is it possible that Lazarus was the "beloved
disciple"? Who better to tell the story of Jesus than the one he raised
from the dead? Who better to summon us from death to the new life that Jesus
offers? And who better to tell us of how difficult and painful it may be to be
born again?
Jesus is summoning us to new life. He is summoning this
church to new life. Will we accept his invitation? Will we have the courage and
faith and strength it will take to die to our old patterns of conflict and to
be born anew to a life of grace and love and truth?
I pray that we will hear and respond when Jesus summons us
to new life as he summoned Lazarus to come forth from the tomb, because he also
summons us to share his glory, the glory of God's only begotten Son, full of
life and truth.
