The readings and themes of the liturgy of Lent mostly lead us to contemplate future suffering and death, whether physical or metaphorical, and to embrace it, indeed in some cases to seek it, calmly, courageously and with determination, in the faith of the resurrection.
Take up your cross, and follow Christ
Nor think till death to lay it down,
For only those who bear the cross
May hope to wear the glorious crown.[1]Let your church be the wheat, which bears its fruit in dying
If we have died with him, we shall live with him,
If we hold firm, we shall reign with him.[2]But today’s readings[3] are different. They ask us to put ourselves in the position where the death has already happened. The bones in the valley are very dry, and the story tells us that Lazarus has been dead for a long time, so long that Martha fears the body is already decomposing.
I want, in a moment, to look at some other narrative similarities in these stories, but first I want to draw your attention to the always remarkable humanness of John’s Gospel. Some of you may be aware of the work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, in helping us to understand the process of dying. Her research showed her that, both those who approach death, and those who are close to the dying, almost always go through five emotional and spiritual stages. The first is denial: this is not happening. Then comes anger: why is this happening to me? Anger is followed by bargaining: I will do anything to have this disaster taken from me? The failure of bargaining leads to depression, but that, finally, in a good death, gives way to acceptance. See how each of these is to be seen in the Lazarus story.
Denial "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep".
Anger "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died".
Bargaining "But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him"
Depression "Jesus began to weep"
Acceptance "Lazarus is dead".
They do not occur in quite that order: the narrative points us in another direction. But all are present.
Kübler-Ross's work and research was among those who were physically dying, but in pastoral work, we notice these same stages in those who are going through the metaphorical or figurativedeaths. These may be experiences of rapid change in organisations and institutions. They may be changes of direction, understanding or status in individual life. It may be the experience of passing to a new stage and phase of life, leaving behind childhood, growing older or having the children leave home. We see the same spiritual and emotional path in those who are suddenly unemployed, or made refugees, or who see everything around them, which gave them identity and meaning, crumbling before their eyes.
It is in the context of this metaphorical or figurative death that I want to think about the two stories of the Valley of the Dry bones and Lazarus, for it seems to me, that especially when the liturgy places them side by side, this is where our meditation should lead. I want to suggest that when we are faced with the death of institutions, organisations, societies and lifestyles, and when we are making our way through the stages of adjusment and mourning, these stories offer us the hope that there is a way through, a way beyond, the finality of Kübler-Ross’s fifth stage.
First, however, I want to note important narrative similarities in the stories. Both involve a co-operation between divine energy and human activity in bringing about new life in the face of death. In the story of the Valley of Dry Bones, Ezekiel does not merely see the miracle of the bones: he has to take action, he has to be implicated in the process:
"Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord GOD: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live."
Ezekiel’s action combines with God’s power to restore life to a situation in which death reigned supreme. In the story of Lazarus we read:
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone.”
Jesus requires human assistance to conquer death. Even more remarkable is the passage which soon follows:
(Jesus) cried with a loud voice, "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."
Even after raising Lazarus from the dead, Jesus still requires the work of the community to complete the miracle and to restore him to full humanity.
I believe that these two stories, understood as related to figurative death, are very apposite to our situation today. We are going through a process of death. As in the time of Ezekiel, the world, society, its institutions and organization, the faith and the church that we knew, even as late as the fifties and sixties, are no more. The news-grabbing events of the terrorist attack in the United States, and the subsequent reactions, may seem of enormous consequence, but really they are no more than a little blip in this huge process of change. Many of us, faced with all this, are at some stage in the Kübler-Ross process of reacting to the death and disintegration of all we have known. Some, perhaps without fully knowing it, may be unhealthily stuck in one phase of the process, and need help in coming through. But once we have come to accept where we are, in the valley of the dry bones or in the tomb with the dead Lazarus, then we can look for resurrection, we can hope for the spirit to blow, we can strain to hear the cry, "Lazarus, come out!”
But even as we feel the spirit beginning to blow, even as we hear cry to come out of the tomb, we are still bound. That which binds us individually may be sickness of psyche or of spirit. That which binds us communally may be attachment to the ways of the past, unwillingness to let go of what once helped, but now impedes the redemptive work of God in the world. The church is bound by its buildings, often by its theology and structure, by the attitudes of its members, by the complacency or worse of it leaders. These individual and communal bindings may inter-react and reinforce each other. So, even as the spirit blows and voice calls, we still need to be unbound and we need the whole community’s help in the unbinding.
As I draw these meditations to a close, I want to suggest that part of the unbinding will be a new view and understanding of what comprises the community that helps to unbind us. We often define the community for ourselves as those who are like-minded and like us. Others, even those taking part in the same liturgy, are invisible to us. But they are those who will unbind us and bring us freedom and new life and humanity. Remember the story of the Good Samaritan. But I suggest our renewed vision of the community does not stop there. The whole community that unbinds us will include those of other faiths and those on the other side of the world.
The church may seem to be dead and bound up. We may feel to be walking through the valley of the shadow of death in this period in history. But the dry bones can live again. Lazarus can walk free. And so can we.
[1] Common Praise, Hymn # 431
[2] The Book of Alternative Services, pg 213
[3] Ezekiel 37:1-14, Romans 8:6-11 and John 11:1-45
[4] Ezekiel 37:9 NRSV
[5] John 11: 38-39
[6] John 11:43-44 NRSVMaundy Thursday and Easter Day, 2002
The Very Rev Michael J.Pitts, Dean and Rector
Christ Church Cathedral, Montreal