Out of the Depths

3/9/08 Fifth Sunday of Lent

Rev. Joy R. Haertig

Last week a new friend stood up in church during joys and concerns and commented that it seemed like we had a lot of illness and struggle in our church. I don’t want to challenge nor support his words, I don’t think he was making a judgement as much as an observation. He then went on to quote St. Francis of Assisi who said, “Wear the world like a loose garment”. Those words struck a chord in me, I was glad to be reminded of them. For indeed, there are difficulties all around us and if we cannot find a way to “wear the world like a loose garment” we could very well remain in the depths of despair and not see the joy that is as evident as the pain.

And yet – As human beings we need to know that we are not alone and we need to have a safe and intentional place to let loose with our laments. I believe we can learn to “wear the world like a loose garment” when we also know we have places where we can say: “this is hard” or “I am angry” or “I miss him/her terribly, or the classic: why did this have to happen?”

It is okay to cry out to Jesus – to God – to the universe – to your faith community.

Today’s reading from the Gospel of John is one of my favorites. I don’t take the raising of Lazarus literally, but I find value in this story of second chances and the realistic picture of human beings in despair.

Jesus’ dear friends, Mary and Martha are in the depths of grief as their brother Lazarus has died. They cry out to Jesus from the bottom of their hearts:

“Jesus, where have you been!”

“If you had been here this would not have happened!”

(Sound familiar?)

The scripture tells us that “Jesus wept” too, that he was “deeply troubled”.

Jesus loved Lazarus.

He loved Mary and Martha.

Here is a profound moment of shared despair.

Years ago I attended a play in Portland, Oregon. I can’t remember the name of it or even much about the main story line except that it included a group of women who had relatives in Eastern Europe who had been killed in one of the many civil wars.

The thing I remember the most was a scene where they were all sitting on benches together and they begin to wail their grief. I don’t mean they sat and cried together – no, they literally wailed from the very center of their being.

Their cries seemed to come not just from their own suffering but from the suffering that all humanity bears due to the loss that accompanies ANY war from ANY part of the world.

It was like the sound of a group of women in labor – giving birth to the worlds grief.

It hurts.

Many of us would not be caught wailing, would we? (If we got started we are afraid we might not stop!)

A few tears maybe, or a good cry, but wailing, and in public even? Yet there is no denying that most of us have certainly felt like it at least once in our lives.

The first scripture we heard this morning from the prophet Ezekiel is another powerful story of despair as well as hope and second chances. (I don’t take this story literally either, but it is an incredible vision of destruction and death – dry bones scattered everywhere. God’s spirit moves and the bones come together, grow new and healthy skin again and then God breathes the breath of life into them.)

This was written to a people exiled from their home, lost, wandering, scattered, back to the wilderness. Consider the dispossessed of this century, fleeing into exile amid bombs and bullets, all too frequently leaving behind everything that defines them and gives meaning to their existence.

The Rev. Anastos writes: Every time I hear the question from Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” I hear shocked whispers, anguished howls and hopeless sobs in a hundred languages, [fields of dry bones from all over the world].

Can we hear, accept, embrace or receive the healing, life-giving breath from our God of second chances if we do not first face the suffering and weep with those who weep? Maybe we need to quit avoiding the much needed lamenting of heartache and horror?

Wednesday night a small handful of us watched the documentary called “The Ground Truth”. Stories from soldiers who have been in Iraq and have now returned. We don’t hear or see these stories on TV or radio – why is that?

I can’t help but wonder that if we faced the truth about what war does to the bodies and psyches of any and every human being involved in one – would our lamenting lead us to a new day? (We have people sitting here today who still carry scars from WWII – people who are still awakened by nightmares.)

Those who survive the Iraq war, whether here or there, will carry the internal and external scars for the rest of their lives – their suffering should bring us to our knees.

“Can these bones live?”

“Will we ever stop going to war?”

And God spoke through Ezekiel: “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.”

God is ready, are we?

To come full circle, again during last week’s joys and concerns another person shared his perspective on the power of our sharing the good and the bad with one another. He said something like: We dare to share it because we dare to hope in a God of love, mercy, compassion and grace, that with God, even dry bones can dance again.

Yes, let us help one another wear the garments of the world loosely, that we might not forget to delight in the gift of life.

But let us also share our laments – let us wail and cry out to Jesus - not in order to feel guilty but in order to be led towards a new day! Let us wail out because we have hope in a God that can make a way out of no way. We have hope in a God of mercy and healing who will meet us wherever we are.