I Am The Resurrection
A homily on the resurrection of Lazarus and the relevance of Christ.
Do we really care about Jesus? Does faith even matter to us anymore? What’s the point? Who gives a damn about this whole “Christianity” thing, anyways?
These are the questions that I have found myself wrestling with over the past few months, and even now as I write, they haunt me and cause great discomfort in my spirit.
Christianity has been part of my life since I was a child. I was brought up in the Black Baptist Church, became a Christian at the age of six, and attended Christian schools and churches for most of my life.
Some of these places have been traumatic, and I have the emotional and spiritual wounds to prove it. Others have been life-giving, and have connected me to my faith and to my community in ways that have surprised me and filled me with joy.
My own journey within the Christian faith, my own entrance into a story that predates me by over two millennia, has been complicated, a wide mixture of the darkest and most bright sides of human capability, and a testament to the enduring faithfulness of Christ.
For me, there is no real choice; I have made a firm decision, irrevocably, to follow and serve Jesus of Nazareth.
Perhaps this is your story too, and perhaps the Church, the nation, and the world have demoralized your spirit. Aren’t we all greatly exhausted by the overwhelming bile that comes from those who claim Christianity, and yet have pledged their allegiance to a political and theological project of fascism and death? And aren’t we all equally exhausted by a culture of pessimistic resignation that exists in so many of our churches and institutions; the lack of spiritual commitment, the desire for personal convenience over communal service and worship, the bare-bones funding allotted to desperately needed justice and healing work?
In short, for many of you, myself included, the Church is an exhausting institution, and it doesn’t seem to appear that Jesus of Nazareth, the Galilean peasant Rabbi who walked the earth in sandals, ate and fellowshipped with those who most of us would never want to be seen with in public, and was overcame death and the grave to reconcile us to God, and to show us that God loves us literally “to death”, matters much at all.
Collectively, we don’t seem to care all that much about Jesus, or the poor He identifies with. Our culture is married to mammon, and to the idea that the world is ours for the taking, rather than ours for the serving and sustaining. We are so obsessed with getting ahead in our workplaces or any place that provides us with a sense of validation that we neglect relationships, put off phone calls and visits, and treat everyone we meet as an opportunity to gain just a bit more self-glory. And we are surrounded by leadership, in government, business, and church, more concerned with the protection and maintenance of their own egos than they are with the service of the people they were appointed, elected, or commissioned to serve.
And so, the fundamental question we have to ask ourselves, however uncomfortable it is, is why bother? Is Christianity relevant? Is faith? Is Jesus? Amidst a great temptation to avoid the suffering and calamity of the world by hyper-focusing on the self, what good does it do to look beyond ourselves, much less to heaven, for comfort or solace, or purpose?
In the Gospel of St. John, Jesus was informed by his friends, Mary and Martha, that their brother, Lazarus, was seriously sick. They had sent word to Jesus hoping that He would come to Bethany, where they lived, and heal him. But Jesus stayed near the Jordan River, and gave them only a promise; that Lazarus would not die.
A few days later, Lazarus did die, and when Jesus went to Bethany to visit his tomb, Martha confronted Him,
21 “Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.
John 11: 21-22
Martha is clearly angry at Jesus, confused as to why He only came to the rescue after Lazarus had died. Didn’t Jesus heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and feed thousands of people? Where was He when the people who loved Him needed Him? Where was His characteristic empathy and compassion? What took Him so damned long?!
Amidst all of her grief and anger, Jesus tells Martha that her brother will rise again, to which Martha responds with “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day”.
Jesus’ comforting words are of little solace to Martha, and so He decides to be even more direct.
25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26 and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
John 11: 25-26
After Martha affirms her faith in Him, Jesus weeps at Lazarus’ tomb and then raises him from the dead.
Friends, it would appear that we are all Martha and Mary. We are wondering now what the point of Jesus is when so many parts of our world have rejected Him and His message. We are anguished and exhausted and angry and grief-stricken, and Jesus seems to be so distant and removed from it all.
But, we would do well to remember that Jesus is the Resurrection. He not only suffers alongside us, nor only does He serve as our mediator and advocate, but He is also the end of our story. He is the “point” Himself. Whatever happens in our world, no matter how far away we move or how hard we shove, Jesus and His way of being away from us, He is the Resurrection. Whatever deaths we encounter, be it physical, spiritual, emotional or otherwise, He is the Resurrection.
The final word of all of existence, of all of creation, of all being and knowing and essence, lies in His hands, the crucified One, the Christ, who rebelled against death at Easter and sent us in this season of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit, to remind us of His presence always.
May His relevance never be lost on us, may we never convince ourselves that we are the arbiters of His relevance, and may we pray for faith, that we might listen to His voice, and be His wounded hands and feet in our world.
Amen.