Grief, Death and New Life

Ezekiel 37: 1-14, John 11: 1-45

The Church of England’s Revised Common Lectionary gives two rather lengthy readings for this Sunday, but, unlike so many such pairings, they have a clear common theme: resurrection.  The passages approach the concept of resurrection in very different ways. In the case of Lazarus’ resurrection, the story is, for the most part, very literal: Jesus raises a man from the dead, although his declaration that He Himself is ‘the resurrection’ takes the concept beyond mere bodily resurrection into the world of spirit and metaphor.  The resurrection vision which Ezekiel sees, however, is not to be taken literally at all.  God Himself explains the meaning of the vision and it’s clear that he is not talking about raising the people of Israel from physical death, but from the spiritual death they feel they are experiencing in exile, or, indeed, the spiritual death that had sent them into exile in the first place.

At this extraordinary time, when everything we do seems strange by context - for most of us, cooped up at home, watching the pandemic grow ever worse in the world outside - and when we are cut off from our traditional concepts of Church, there are a few comforting things that I take from these passages.

Firstly, there is the promise of “the shortest verse in the Bible”, John 11:34, which, in the NRSV linked above is translated ‘Jesus began to weep’.  In the NIV it’s famously just ‘Jesus wept.’  This verse is so often used to point to Jesus’ fragile humanity, how He experienced pain and suffering in incarnation just as all humans must.  At a time when many are anxious and fearful, when so many are losing loved ones very suddenly, when what appears to be a lottery of death hangs all about us, there is comfort in knowing that Jesus weeps, too.  Even knowing what is about to happen to Lazarus, He shares in the suffering of Lazarus’ sisters; He feels their pain as He feels His own at the loss of a friend.  Thus, as we suffer through this pandemic in many ways, we can draw near to Jesus and grieve with Him.

Secondly, there is the promise that death is not the end.  Jesus is the resurrection and the life and, as He says, ‘Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.’  In Jesus there is hope, even in the face of death and, contrary to how many present it, it is an inclusive hope, one offered to any and all who put their trust in Him.  The only barrier, it seems, is our own decision to do otherwise.

Thirdly, and perhaps most significantly for the majority of us at this moment, there is a promise for the life we live now.  Though we may feel cut off from the Church we love and the familiar patterns of our faith through isolation, though we may feel we are going through a tough and empty time where all the joys of our life have been stripped away and God has never seemed further, though we may be utterly dead in faith and feel unable even to choose to believe in Jesus, the vision of Ezekiel gives us hope.

God is able to bring new life in all its forms and in all its fullness.  As the Psalmist wrote in Psalm 16, 'You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.' God can put flesh on the bones of our life, breath in our bodies and allow us truly to live.  Right now, when we may feel enervated, apathetic or hopeless; that there is little for us worth doing or little we can contribute to our friends, families and communities; that ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely’, God is able to reach down to us in our living death and lift us up to be an army for His purposes.  And that is God’s work, not ours!  We don’t have to pick ourselves up by our bootstraps, nor despair at the work to be done, we just have to trust that God will do His work and thus enable us to serve him effectively.

And so we pray:

Father God,
Thank you that you are with us in our suffering
Through your Son, Jesus Christ,
That you, too weep and grieve,
That, though death may come for us all,
In you it does not have to be the end.
And now, as we struggle to find the energy
To face many days cut off from life as we have known it,
Give us new life and new energy and new faith,
So that we may serve you well now and always.
In the name of Him who weeps with us,
Our saviour, Jesus Christ,
Who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
One God, now and forevermore,
Amen.

Going Viral

We live in unprecedented times. Even if one is to look at past pandemics, like the Bubonic Plague, or past events that transformed national life, like World War II, the culture we live in is so far-removed from those times as to make any comparison shallow and unhelpful. The world has never faced anything like this before and to have the very foundations of normality pulled out from under us and life reset to its basic elements is an unsettling thing for many of us. Much discussion has taken place already concerning the nature of the crisis we face and the changes it must wreak upon our lives - after all, many of us don’t have much else to do now we’re locked up in our homes for the majority of the day. I’ve seen discussions about how this will impact our view of economics in the future; how it might alter relationships and our appreciation of friends and family; how it helps us to value the most essential services we are offered in life, like medical care or the provision of groceries. People have made much of our suddenly reduced impact on the environment and, yes, there has been an ongoing conversation about what this means for the Church, which is my concern. With church services across our and many other nations suspended indefinitely and the Archbishop of Canterbury calling on Christians to be Church in a radically different way, I have found myself reflecting on what this might mean. How can the Church be radically different when it cannot meet in any traditional way? What can replace the usual Sunday services or weekly Bible studies? Are there ways to be Church online that we haven’t really explored yet? I am convinced that there are, that the way forward for the Church at this time, and as something that must be ongoing for many of us even when this crisis is over, is to be found in expressing our faith in new creative and practical ways - online for now, but unleashed onto the world as well just as soon as we can leave our homes. I don’t know how this will look in practice, however, and I’m not convinced anyone else really does either. I think, first and foremost, we all need to look at the gifts God has given us and ask ourselves (and God) how we might best use those gifts in our current situation. Only once Christians start to do this en masse will this radical “new” vision for the Church become clear. I put ‘new’ in quotation marks there for a reason. I’ve been hearing talk of new opportunities for the Church, when, actually, what I see are the old paths rarely taken becoming the only options once the well-trodden ways have been closed off to us. I was directed by my ADO to Psalm 137, ‘By the rivers of Babylon…’, and found much there to consider in this current situation. There are obvious comparisons to be made between the Jewish community in exile in Babylon and the Church in exile from its buildings during this pandemic. Certainly, whilst Christians everywhere are greeting this new way of living in very different ways, some of us must be taking this enforced absence from Sunday rituals very badly. Are we sitting down and weeping by the living-room sofa as we remember Holy Communion? It might sound silly put that way, but for some this level of unsettling change will be very upsetting and whatever action the Church takes to continue being God’s people in this strange exile, we must consider how to care for and encourage those who are finding it difficult. Similarly, whether we realise it or not, many of us will be clinging on to old ways of doing things, just as the writer of Psalm 137 seems to be in the second stanza. Certainly, the immediate response to the closing of churches has been to recreate what we know of church online through live-streaming. There’s nothing wrong with that at all and, indeed, it will prove very helpful for many of us, but I am convinced that we will soon discover that that alone does not constitute Church and we may find ourselves longing for something more and grieving what we have lost. The Psalmist, too, laments over the loss of Jerusalem and fears forgetting it as we might fear whether it will ever be the same again after the pandemic has passed. He asks ‘How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?’ and we too must ask ourselves this question. How can we sing the Lord’s song with social-distancing, in self-isolation, in lockdown? The exiled Jews found ways to answer that question. The exile was a period of incredible spiritual growth for the Jewish people, with much scriptural material written and revised during this time as well as many talmudic writings as commentary. Whilst we mustn’t pressure ourselves into doing more than we can in a time which will be trying in lots of unexpected ways - strained relationships, finding time and energy to educate our children, worrying about work and finances, etc. - there is no reason that we too can’t find some time to grow in our spirituality, gaining new insights into scripture, into the way God is working around and through us, learning to love God more and our fellow humans too along the way. Perhaps we will find Psalms like 137 helpful to consider during a time of readjustment. We might at first relate with its picture of fear and sorrow, but by asking its questions, by hurling them at God if necessary, hopefully we can learn to move on. Here I find Romans 12 verses one and two helpful. “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.” In the light of our current circumstances, I read this rather differently than I have done in the past. I am very conscious that it is by God’s mercies - the way that he condescends (comes down with us) to be with us in our daily lives - that we might be able to become living sacrifices and live out our faith - our being Church without the usual Sunday worship rituals. Indeed, this verse talks about spiritual worship, which doesn’t require bricks and mortar, or a worship band, or even a preacher, at all. I am reminded also of Hosea 6:6, “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”, or Psalm 51: 16-17, “For you have no delight in sacrifice; if I were to give a burnt offering, you would not be pleased. The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” Both speak of relating to and worshipping God outside of the traditional religious practices of the day and so our living sacrifice might also be a living liturgy or a living prayer - turning our lives into the act of worship we are no longer allowed to perform in the way to which we have become accustomed. And that living sacrifice, that liturgy of our lives, is also to be something novel, something transformed and renewed. We need not conform to the patterns of our religious traditions any more than to those of this world. There is much they can teach us of course and much we can borrow and use - I’ve been learning much from exploring Celtic Christianity, for example - but they do not need to constrict us. We have the opportunity now, as we have always had, to worship God and to serve His kingdom in new ways, with new creativity and new love guided by the Spirit. As I see it, the Church is always on the edges of Heaven and Earth, always at the point of standing up, jumping in, taking action. Right now that image is more clear to me than ever before, because all the old patterns we might have fallen back upon have been taken away from us, thus now, now we can perhaps show the world something new and in so doing reveal the most ancient of truths. And so, hopefully, I write these reflections and share them publicly in ways I might not a few weeks ago, because this situation emboldens me. This is but one part of the Church we might become, but I do what I can see to do and hope to have my eyes opened further the deeper into this time of darkness we go.