Beyond the Stench
It is a well-known fact that our bodies deteriorate as we age. Growing old is not for sissies. One of the most common maladies of aging is the development of cataracts. Cataracts are the clouding of the lens of the eye, resulting in an increased blurring of distant vision and eventually, if not treated, blindness. With fully developed cataracts, it becomes impossible for the individual to see the beauty and diversity of life that lies just beyond the clouded lens. In the 1980's, a relatively simple, thirty-minute outpatient procedure called intraocular surgery was introduced to correct this problem. In this surgery, the surgeon removes the clouded lens and replaces it with a clear plastic lens.
As routine as this surgery is in this country, there are parts of the world that still do not have the necessary medical personnel to perform this procedure. In the remote village of Gucho, Tibet, there are no eye clinics or eye surgeons. The village lies in the Himalayan Mountains… in the very shadow of Mount Everest. Almost half of Gucho's population who is over fifty can no longer see the beautiful mountain that was an everyday sight they gazed at while growing up.
In 1993, the Tibetan government recognized the seriousness of the situation and invited Dr. Sanduk Ruit, an eye surgeon from Nepal, to Gucho to perform these surgeries and to teach the local physicians how to perform the procedure. For those villagers who have received the procedure, the effect has been dramatic. Within a day after the surgery, the bandages are removed and patients can see with clarity what they had been blinded to only hours earlier. Once again, they are able to enjoy the glorious sight of Mount Everest's snow-covered peak… to find the goat that wandered away from their herd… or revel in the beauty of a loved one’s smile.
Today, this surgery is even more advanced… as several of our own members, like Eloise Horak and Billye Jones, can attest. Today, it is possible to substitute a corrective lens for the simple plastic lens… making it possible for the person having the surgery to dispense with glasses they have worn for years to correct their vision. Today, individuals having this surgery can see the world and everything in it with even greater clarity than they ever could before.
There is another kind of vision that is offered to Christians today… the vision that Jesus offered to Mary and Martha in our story today… the vision to see the promises of God that seem clouded… obscure… or unimaginable to those for whom the promises of God are not real. The vision to see beyond the limitations of our present reality into a brave new world that stands waiting just beyond the here and now. Unfortunately, Mary did not have this vision. Martha did not have this vision. Even the disciples who had traveled with Jesus for three years did not have it. And no one in the crowd that had gathered at Lazarus’ home had it.
Commentators theorize that this is why Jesus wept on that day… not because his friend Lazarus was dead… for Jesus not only knew that God could raise this man from death to life… Jesus knew that Lazarus had already escaped the bonds of human existence and, even then, knew the reality of life beyond death. No. Jesus wept because no one who was with him that day… not Mary… not Martha… not even his own disciples… believed in the power of God over life and death. Jesus knew what was possible… and he also knew that his own death was imminent. All he needed from his followers and his friends was simple trust… belief in a God that created the world from nothing… faith in a God that ruled the universe. Yet, despite all that he had done… all that he had taught them in the three years that he was with them… despite countless healings and innumerable teachings on God’s power… God’s love… and God’s vision for the future… those around Jesus were still stuck in the present… with all its human limitations… and its lack of hope. On that day, Jesus wept… not for the dead… but for the living and their lack of faith.
One of the most powerful books that I have read this year is the book, The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan. It is a vivid and graphic narrative of the Dust Bowl… not the story of those who were hit by the drought in the early 1930’s and fled… a story immortalized by John Steinbeck in his novel The Grapes of Wrath. This is the story of those who stayed… in cities like Dalhart, Texas, and Guymon, Oklahoma… of those who persevered through unbelievable hardship… of those who endured the loss of everything they treasured… land… possessions… friends… and family… of those who were abandoned by those they trusted… civic leaders… the U.S. government… and even, some would say, God himself. It is a gripping… heart-wrenching… haunting story of a world without hope. Those of us who live in the land of plenty… the land of opportunity… forget that there was a time before Federal Deposit Insurance… before Social Security… before land management and Soil Conservation… before Unemployment Compensation. There was a time when… despite your best planning and your most diligent effort… you could lose everything… even those you loved… through no fault of your own. There was a time when hope was a four-letter word.
Even today, we get trapped into believing that life is bound by the limits of what we can see… feel… touch… and smell. Martha did not want Jesus to roll the stone away from the entrance to Lazarus’ tomb, for all she could see was the lifeless body of her dead brother… and all she could smell was death and decay. She was trapped… bound by her own reality… by the limits of her vision… confines of her faith. And Jesus wept for her… as he weeps for us.
Several weeks ago, I shared with you the two times in my life when God has allowed me to have a glimpse beyond my present reality. I shared with you how a brief glimpse through that hole torn in the fabric of my reality showed me that nothing in this world is of any significance at all when measured against the majesty of the cosmos… and the timelessness of eternity. I shared with you my own longing to be in that place again… to witness that mystery again… to revisit it… as a touchstone to my present circumstances… and the finitude of my human existence. But I find that even with that experience, I forget… and I, too, get trapped in this world… my present reality… and lose hope. So, Jesus weeps for me… for you… because our vision is limited to what we can see… because we cannot get beyond the stench. We are trapped in the tombs of our mortal existence… our human experience… tombs we have made with our own hands.
Jesus stands outside the tomb and calls to us, “Come out.” Come out of the dark… into the light. Come out from the grave… into a new life. I find it ironic that, when Lazarus emerges from the tomb, Jesus’ first command to those around him is, “Unbind him, and let him go.” They are commanded to remove the bonds that constrain Lazarus in his new life… bonds placed upon him by those who could not see beyond the stench… bonds made by human hands… wrapped around him by well-meaning human beings.
How often, I wonder, do we constrain those we love… and even ourselves… with bonds we create with our limited human vision? How long have we remained in a tomb of our own making… as the stench of death and decay grows around us? How can we break free of those bonds… and live in the light? Is it not by Jesus’ invitation? Is the story of Lazarus so different from the story of Jesus knocking on the door? It is he who bids us come… to come out from our tombs… to be freed from our bonds… to live a new life in him. And it is he who give us hope for a future that lies just beyond the stench of this life… a life that those who have gone before us enjoy today… a life that we cannot see yet… but perhaps one day, the Master Physician will perform eye surgery on us… giving us new lenses to see a new reality… one that has always been there… the promise of God to all who believe. “Come out.” Live a new life in Christ. Amen.
John 11:1-45