All Saints Day.B.24
John 11:32-44
The Rev. Melanie McCarley
The Lectionary appoints the story of the raising of Lazarus for All Saints’ Day in Year B of our three year lectionary cycle. At first glance, it seems an unusual choice. Years A and C include variations on the Beatitudes from Matthew and Luke—inspiring passages for all we hopeful saints, telling us how we are to live: Blessed are those who thirst for righteousness, blessed are the merciful, and so on and so forth. But here, today, we have Lazarus—whom no one has ever claimed was a saint and who gives us little if any example as to how to live.
Here’s what we know about Lazarus. He was a friend of Jesus—but clearly, not one of the inner circle. He was the brother of Martha and Mary. Oh, and in today’s lesson, he’s dead. Stone, cold, dead—in the tomb.
This is important—the Bible says so. As we come to the Gospel passage for today we learn that it’s been four days since Lazarus has died, so there can be no question that he is well and truly dead. I don’t know about you—but I’m on Martha’s side here when she says “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (which I don’t imagine was said in anything but an accusatory manner). For surely, if Jesus had hurried—just a bit—they wouldn’t be in this unhappy predicament. But the Savior dawdled, dragged his feet and his friend died. And now Lazarus is in tomb. And Martha, with her faithful yet pragmatic response to reality says: “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus weeps, and then—behold, a miracle, Our Lord raises Lazarus from the dead.
Lazarus, you see—does nothing. Jesus does everything. The raising of Lazarus makes clear the words of Jesus in verse 25: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” So, today’s lesson isn’t really about Lazarus—Lazarus could have been anyone, Joe, Tom, Frank or Debbie. Today’s lesson is about Jesus—and the power that Jesus has to defeat death.
To be fair, I should tell you that Lazarus, in fact, was not resurrected. He was resuscitated. Resurrection is about receiving a new, glorified body, while resuscitation involves returning to a mortal body. Despite his exit from the tomb, Lazarus was destined to die again. The Bible doesn’t mention him again save that we know he was present when Mary poured expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair.
So, Lazarus was not a saint, if we think that being a saint means that Lazarus was to have performed great feats of faith, or performed miracles, or was anything other than a good brother to his sisters and beloved to his friends. The Bible presents Lazarus as a regular guy—like you, and me. Nothing out of the ordinary. But loved by Jesus, just the same.
Which brings us to All Saints’ Sunday, a time when we think, quite naturally, of the timeless question of future life. It seems to me that no one can consider the Christian religion, even superficially, without realizing how central the theme of resurrection and eternal life is to the gospel. Today’s reading reminds us that the gift of eternal life has little to do with us—and everything to do with God in Christ.
But we have saints in the church, do we not? So it’s a good question to ask: ‘What might it take to be a saint”
The Episcopal priest, and my seminary classmate, Russ Levenson writes: “I am not completely certain what it might take to be a saint, but I suspect it is not so much about the acts one accomplishes throughout his or her life, but instead a life that is characterized by an ongoing surrender to the grace and mercy of God found in Jesus Christ. (He continues). My mentor, the late John Claypool, used to say, “All it takes to be a saint, is to want to be one.”…The birthplace of authentic sainthood is simply this—the desire to follow Christ.”
God, I believe, takes that desire and makes us saints. One of our seminary professors, Tony Lewis, in speaking to Russ about what drew him to a life of serving our Lord, said that among other things there was his father. He said his father was not a larger-than-life kind of Christian. But he was faithful. He went to Church and he lived a genuinely loving life. This is what impressed him the most; “Every night, my father got down on his knees and said his prayers…”. An ordinary, yet remarkable, common man. I’m sure you know plenty of saints as well. People who may not make it onto the headlines of the New York Times or Boston Globe, but nonetheless, were fine examples of grace, mercy and faith. People, whose lives presented an invitation for others to wonder about the goodness of God.
And this is the great lesson, not only of the gospel reading for today, but for All Saints’ Day in particular. In the end, what makes us saints, isn’t our works (though these are important), it is the desire to follow Jesus. Ultimately, it is Christ (it is the grace of God) who makes us saints. We all, like Lazarus—wind up in the tomb. Despite our desire to extend our lives to the fullest and to be healthy, wealthy and wise. We all—each one of us, dies.
And yet—we live. We are promised a life which extends beyond the grave. That tomb—well, our mortal bodies might wind up there, but not our spirit. Something else awaits those of us who dwell in our mortal frame, a promise of God that is, as yet, still a mystery. But it is a trustworthy promise, for the giver is God. It’s promise is sure—receiving that gift has little to do with us, than it does with the love of God, who loves us all, and gathers us together into the joyful fellowship of the Saints of light in the eternal realm of Heaven. In Jesus’ name. Amen.