Can these bones live?

John 11:1-45, page 104-105 in the pew Bibles

John 11:1–45 NRSV

1 Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. 2 Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. 3 So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” 4 But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” 5 Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, 6 after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. 7 Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” 8 The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” 9 Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. 10 But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” 11 After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” 12 The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” 13 Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. 14 Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. 15 For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” 16 Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” 17 When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, 19 and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. 20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. 21 Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” 23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” 24 Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, 26 and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” 27 She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” 28 When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” 29 And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31 The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to weep. 36 So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” 38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” 45 Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

I have trouble with these passages. I’ve wrestled with them this week, wondering how to approach the hope of resurrection, wondering how to do justice to the grief we feel when we lose the ones we love. There is an injustice to death, as we experience it here and now.

We, the people of God, wait in hope on the promise of resurrection, and yet we are confronted with loss and sadness and death in the meantime. We await the promise, and yet…does it not come quickly enough? Lord, have mercy.

Two weeks before Easter Sunday, we wrestle with two texts, first from the Prophet Ezekiel and second from the Gospel of John, of the miraculous power of life over death.

We must see these both as precursors, announcements, foreshadowing, to the work Christ does in rising from the tomb on Resurrection Sunday.

In Christ, we proclaim that death is defeated. Death is overcome. But more on that in two weeks.

In the meantime, the not yet, what are we to do with these texts?

Let’s reflect on their contexts, first.

Ezekiel writes about a restoration of God’s people out of their graves, restoring dry bones to dance and walk and praise God once more. Ezekiel writes to a people who were longing for restoration, a people in exile, a people taken from their land, a people of hope and yet a people so downtrodden.

Have you ever felt like you just couldn’t get up, couldn’t move your bones, like you were slipping downward into entropy and despair?

Perhaps you experienced this in a season of profound grief. You have lost a spouse, a parent, a child, a partner.

Perhaps it isn’t death, exactly, that takes us to this place. Perhaps its depression, loss of work, a felt sadness in the body that we cannot really explain. Perhaps its neurochemical or has something to do with our body’s functioning.

Whatever takes us there, I’m sure you know the feeling.

I’m not sure too many of us have watched the recent television show, the Walking Dead, but it completed its run after 11 seasons earlier this year. This post-apocalyptic show follows survivors of a zombie outbreak (really exciting stuff), watching them establish new communities and forge ahead in a world gone sideways. And the deep question the show asks is this: Who really are the Walking Dead? Is it the ones who are infected? Or is it us, the survivors, the ones who had been going on autopilot or who had grown numb to the world? And what does it mean to truly find life, both before and after death?

Ezekiel prophesies over the bones and calls for the people from their graves. Now, let’s be clear, prophetic literature is not always literal, nor should we take it at face value. The people were not dead, so much as they were walking in despair. And the wide field of bones Ezekiel prophesied over — while they are a powerful image, it is less important about where and how that field exists and more about how the spirit of God comes over our deadness to bring new life, new hope.

This leads us to the story of Lazarus, as well.

I want to play with the story of Lazarus a bit, because I hope it will make this text a bit more real to us. Mary, Martha and Lazarus were part of Jesus’ inner circle, his dear friends. And we get the sense that they operated from a place of privileged standing, they hosted Jesus and his disciples. But what if they weren’t actually all that well off in the scheme of things?

What if this is a family that has come to expect attention from Jesus, because they have received his presence before? What if they are in poor health, perhaps Lazarus has been on death’s door and Jesus knows this. Perhaps Jesus has visited before and has since gone back out to keep healing and sharing his message. And then he gets this summons — come, Lazarus, the one you love, is sick. Is it expected that Jesus would drop everything for him? He gets a message, come quick.

What if they didn’t really understand what was ailing Lazarus, but he clearly was dying? That would make sense in first century Palestine — they don’t have the modern medical tools we have.

So Jesus can’t make it, he can’t be there. And he is clearly grieved at this.

This is where I connect with vs. 9, when Jesus responds — “are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them....Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.”

What if Lazarus has lost a sense of the light of life that Jesus was trying to share? What if he’s lost a sense of purpose, he’s in the dark, as we would say? What if this death is physical, yes, but also so much more spiritual and psychological? What if Lazarus has lost the will to live, the desire to have his “bones rise up?”

Again, I ask, do you know what it is like to feel like you’re hurting, dying inside? Like there’s no hope? Like your bones could just lay down and sleep for ever?

Jesus says that he is actually glad that he is not there when Lazarus dies. Again, what are we to do with this? Has Jesus grown callous, drained of compassion?

We also know how this feels, when we’ve given all that we can.

But something else is going on here, it seems. Jesus has confidence in something that others cannot see. And he sees that somehow, this work will show others what he is truly on about.

We see one of the most intimate and heartbroken moments for Jesus in the intervening part of the story. He weeps at Lazarus’ tomb. He is broken at the loss of his friend, even if he could have saved him before.

Do you feel this? That Jesus, before doing the healing, weeps, knowing the pain of loss? What if Jesus knows our pain, our feelings of death, our hurt? What if it’s not all about full resurrection life, right away at least, but about being seen in our pain? Being seen for our dry, dead bones? Being seen and weeped over…weeped with?

The story finishes rather abrublty. Jesus calls Lazarus from the tomb. His life is restored. God hears Jesus’ compassionate, heartaching cry, and shows God’s power.

Jesus says this is an opportunity to see and believe in God’s power.

What if it’s not so much about the resurrection, which is remarkable of course, but about the tears and the pain experienced by the Son of God, that matters to us in this story? What if it is us seeing Jesus as one with us in our grief and pain?

We long for restoration, for resurrection. And it comes, the promise is fulfilled, in Christ. But in the intervening time, we must also remember that Christ holds us in our pain and grief.

May it be so with us today, as we approach the cross with Christ.

Amen.