Fifth Sunday in Lent (John 11:1-45)  04/06/2014

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A few years ago my family and I spent a fun and exciting week on vacation in Nevada and Arizona, the highlight for me being our visit to the Grand Canyon. During our time there we spent a day rafting down a river that cut through the Glen Canyon, an area just north of the Grand Canyon. Floating down the river was a spectacular experience, watching the multitude of vibrant colors paint the canyon walls and seeing the many layers of rock and sediment, each layer reaching out into the present, telling its own story of the past. Beyond the rugged beauty of the place, there was a deep spiritual element that seemed to pervade the entire canyon. The canyon seemed to be what many people have called a “thin place;” a place where the separation between heaven and earth is so narrow the face of God seems to be just around the corner. I do not mean to suggest God has some peculiar preference for a few spots on earth over others, but there is some tangible power and mystery to certain holy places. The manifestation of this holy presence, in these thin places, is the foundation of the Christian discipline of pilgrimage. Pilgrims often set aside their cares of the world and take up a journey to seek these thin places, to seek an experience with God in new and mysterious ways (our J2A pilgrims are very familiar with this idea and can attest to its power). We are nourished and nurtured in powerful ways as we come into the presence of the God; powerful ways that sustain us in times when we might feel more distant or perhaps more challenged to be close to the presence of the holy.

This morning’s Gospel is a powerful story of God’s presence as brought to us through the miraculous actions of Jesus. The lesson of the raising of Lazarus is a familiar story we hear during Lent. A beloved friend of Jesus, Lazarus experienced an illness that eventually resulted in his death; a death that many had hoped could be prevented through the powerful intervention of Jesus’ blessing. The hope of Martha and Mary for their brother Lazarus draws us into this story, for we can easily understand their wishes: Please God, if only our brother could recover from his illness, that all will be well with him, please let it be so. We might be surprised that Jesus delayed his trip to be at the side of his beloved friend; in our passion for the welfare of Lazarus we might join with the disciple Thomas as he bravely shrugged off any concern for his personal safety to join Jesus, saying to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” After his delay of two days, Jesus finally arrived at the town of his friends, but Lazarus had died…four days in the tomb and beyond any hope for recovery. Jesus chose to not intercede in the final days of Lazarus’ illness; Jesus chose not to heal the sick Lazarus, allowing him to pass from this world to the next. Sealed in the tomb, separated by a large and foreboding stone, a solid boundary between one world and the next, Lazarus’ departure was marked with weeping and great sorrow. But Jesus was prepared to challenge Martha and Mary in their understanding of this world and the next, Jesus was prepared to break through a separation we interpret as absolute.

Jesus turned to Martha with great care and compassion, “Your brother will rise again,” he said. Martha understood him to mean the resurrection on the last day, but Jesus’ lesson was beyond this understanding. “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. Do you believe this?,” Jesus asked Martha. “Yes, Lord, I believe…” said Martha. We hear the words of Jesus at every burial in this church, we hear these words because they form the foundation of our understanding of Jesus Christ’s mission on earth and the courageous hope we have through the promise of Christ, as children of God. Jesus walked to the mouth of the tomb, the boundary of one world to the next, and he reached through the boundaries that had been set and created a thin space, a space where the miraculous grace of God was shining forth for all to see. “Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world,” said Jesus. That light burst forth as Jesus called to Lazarus in the tomb: “‘Lazarus, come out!’ 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.'” Unbind this man and let him walk among the people, unbind your understanding of God’s power and glory in the world so that you may believe!

We are given the thin places of this world so we may experience the power and presence of the holy and unbind those things that are wrapped around our understanding of God. Evelyn Underhill, author and spiritual guide, speaking of the presence of Christ wrote the following prayer: “O blessed Jesus Christ, who didst bid all who carry heavy burdens to come to Thee, refresh us with Thy Presence and Thy Power. Quiet our understandings and give ease to our hearts, by bringing us close to things Infinite and Eternal. Open to us the mind of God that in His light we may see light. And crown Thy choice of us to be Thy servants by making us springs of strength and joy to all whom we serve.”[i] The thin places of this world open our hearts and minds to the power and presence of Christ in our lives; they refresh and renew our spirits and flood our hearts with hope and love. Just as I believe there are thin places on earth where pilgrims may journey, I believe this season of Lent is a thin place on our calendar, and we are pilgrims of this season, heading to the foot of the cross and the glorious Easter mystery. In these last days of Lent, as we prepare for Palm Sunday and the days of Holy Week to follow, may you take time to open yourselves to the power and presence of God, open yourselves to the mysteries of the thin places of this Lenten season, and release yourselves to God’s love. AMEN

[i] Evelyn Underhill, Fragments from an Inner Life: The Notebooks of Evelyn Underhill, taken from Loves Redeeming Work, compiled by G. Rowell, K. Stevenson, and R. Williams, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 574.