The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
In the fifth chapter of the Gospel according to John, Jesus reveals the promise that lives in him as he speaks to those who would listen: “For as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will…Truly, truly, I say to you, the hour is coming and now is when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live…Do not marvel at this: the hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come forth…” Today then, a few chapters later, Jesus show us what he means in the long Gospel we just read.
A middle-aged man finds himself in an uncertain situation. Struggling with a depression, a recent fracture and separation from his spouse, a loss of his job, a struggle with alcohol and chemical addiction, he wakes in the middle of the night and becomes aware of his surroundings. The unfamiliar surroundings rise to his awareness, and he becomes fully conscious as he acclimates to the reality of the place he seeks refuge, the basement in his parents home. The despair of his life rises up almost choking him to death. Dead, in fact, is how he feels, and almost making friends with it, he moves from his temporary bed, a pull-out sofa, and lies on the cold ceramic floor. In the middle of the night, his refuge becomes almost tomblike, cold and damp, dark, despairing. Night after night, it seems this is the routine, awakened by despair, oriented to an unfamiliar surrounding, moving to the cold and damp floor. Family members keep vigilant watch: His parents and sisters, though polite and respectful, their broken hearts over their loved one’s despair, offered outside of “the tomb” as day by day they keep watch! How long will death surround? Lazarus, will you ever come out? “Do not marvel at this: the hour is coming when all who are in the tomb will hear his voice and come forth…” Lazarus, come out!
A door opens a crack, a familiar voice follows the light as it walks down the stairs to a tomblike basement, Come on, we’re going to Eucharist. Hymns are sung, a table prepared, a moment comes…Hands extended at an altar rail, a host placed gently, a chalice makes its way, Christ is coming toward, it seems! Lazarus, come out! Years of Sunday school teachers, youth group leaders, bible study partners, a crescendo of voices now seem to fill the heart, head and body, seemingly overcoming the once droll symphony of grief and anguish (like Mahler’s Fifth), that certainly was being offered as if by mourners standing outside a tomb. The voice returns...“I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever believes in me shall never die.” Lazarus, come out! I am coming toward you! “Aionious” – the Greek word used in John’s Gospel, I have a “new life,” is promised!
How about you? How about me? Lazarus, come out! I am coming toward you!
“Aionious” – What new life is promised?
