October 17th Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed |
|
All Saints, 2021 John 11: 32–44 |
| Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen. |
| Every year I welcome the quiet, holy celebration of All Saints. Like Christmas, it comes at a time of the year when we all need something to celebrate. The days have grown shorter and darker, cold and damp. All around us nature itself seems to be shutting down. But unlike Christmas, All Saints is blessedly quiet and simple – celebrating people who have blessed us in ways only we can tell. And this year, in this church, we are celebrating living saints as well those who have died. All together they make up the Communion of Saints, the ones who have taught us and encouraged us in our faith. |
| For our lives in the Lord are not formed in a vacuum. We learn our faith from the example of faithful saints around us, from imperfect people who allow the Lord’s light to shine through them. And by their example, by their witness, by their prayers and encouragement we too begin to follow after the Lord, walking in his ways. We too become His disciples, the Body of Christ in the world. |
| We also learn our faith from people we have never actually met – people like Abraham the patriarch, who waited and waited for the promise from God – and eventually received it with great joy. Or Moses, who doubted he could ever speak for God – but was used mightily all the same. Or Isaiah the prophet, whose poetic words inspired Jesus himself. And then there are Anna and Simeon in the Temple whose devotion to the Lord and his house tell us that even in our advancing years we can play a significant part in the story of God. Or – on the other hand – there’s Mary, mother of Jesus, who despite her young age was used mightily by God. These are a few of my favorites – and you will have your own. But their example tells me we are a community that moves forward by looking back and listening carefully. Every Sunday, here in this church, we listen to the words of those who have prayed before us and allow ourselves to be guided by their example. |
| Take, for example, John’s story of the raising of Lazarus in this morning’s Gospel. At the outset, the story hardly looks promising. It hardly looks like a faith–builder. But by its end, by its conclusion, Jesus’ claim that he is the resurrection and the life has taken on meaning for us all. |
| I think you know the story. Jesus’ friend Lazarus has died, and though Jesus takes his time getting to the family’s home in Bethany, he does finally get there — four days later – only to hear each of Lazarus’ sisters murmur privately to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” So there’s Jesus weeping for his friend, the two sisters, Mary and Martha, struggling not to blame him for not coming earlier, and the awkwardness of Jesus then commanding that the stone that sealed the grave be rolled away – despite Martha’s objection that by now there would be a stench coming from the dead body. The grief . . . the barely stifled anger . . . and the utter incomprehension on the part of the sisters when Jesus commands that the stone be rolled away – it all adds up to a painful family drama. It hardly looks like the kind of story that could inspire our faith. |
| But Jesus prevails, telling Martha, “Did I not tell you, if you would only believe, you would see the glory of the Lord?” So the stone is rolled away, Jesus calls out to Lazarus, and the man emerges from the grave, very much alive, though still wrapped in grave cloths. “Unbind him,” Jesus commands. And with that our own imaginations are set free to see this story in a much larger context. |
| For if Jesus can turn back death itself, then all things are possible. If Jesus can turn back death itself, then the glory and presence of God in the world shall finally prevail. Suddenly, you see, this is not just a story about a family crisis in Bethany long ago. It’s more about the crisis of our whole world caught in death and sin, grief and discouragement. It’s not a story about resuscitating a corpse so much as it is a story that gives life and hope to the world. |
If Jesus can turn back death itself then – as the poet Dylan
Thomas once put it –
Death shall have no dominion Now, I’ve risked quoting Dylan Thomas’ somewhat obscure lines here to point out that even people who are hardly church goers, hardly orthodox believers (and Dylan Thomas was neither) are able to grasp the basic truth – that though individuals die, the love connections between them do not. That’s what Thomas was saying when he said, Though lovers be lost love shall not: For whether we are church goers or not, whether we completely understand our faith or not – we all have that north star orientation that can recognize truth when we come across it. And when we encounter the truth that love prevails – and realize that the God whose name is Love is the life force behind this truth – then we, too, realize that death shall have no dominion. The Love that connects us, the Love that holds us together is simply stronger. |
| And that’s what we’re celebrating here today. In Church circles it’s called the Communion of Saints. And it means that the bonds of love between us will never die – even when we are separated by that door between heaven and earth, the door they say swings only one way. But the Communion of Saints says something different. The Communion of Saints says that each and every one of us was created in love . . . for love. Love is at the center of us. Love is in our hearts. And that Love will never die, even if we turn our backs against it a hundred times a day. |
| Jesus demonstrated that love to us. I proclaim it to you. And all together we celebrate it here today. Death shall have no dominion. |
Amen. |
| Return to Sermons | Home Page | Top of Page |