Fifth Sunday of Lent

Out for a walk a couple of weeks ago, I crossed paths with someone wearing a black t-shirt with the phrase: “Consider the possibilities Dot. Dot. Dot.,” Those ellipsis marks, the Dot. Dot. Dot., suggest there is much more to be said.  So much more to be seen beyond what we usually see.  Reminding me to consider that there is something greater beyond the boundaries. And in the light of our readings, as we draw nearer to Easter, to ponder the possibility of resurrection – often in the midst of what seems hopeless.

“Consider the possibilities, Dot. Dot. Dot.”

Reflect for a moment; have any one of us ever found ourselves in a place where there is no way out?  No hope apparent.  Where no possibility exists.  Period.

Today’s first reading – especially the first few verses – paints a landscape of death; a place rife with no possibility and no hope.  Period.

“The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of very dry bones.”

Lifeless. No possibility. Period.

We don’t have to imagine too hard what such a scene might look like. As the work continues in Oso, with 30 confirmed dead as of Friday afternoon, it’s a scene of bones. And the seas of the Indian Ocean entomb 239 bodies of Malaysian Air 370 perhaps never to be found again.

What to do in the face of death? Where there is no way out? No possibility?  For the people of Israel, whom Ezekiel addresses, they certainly feel like they are at a dead end in their lives. A shattered and captive nation; exiled in Babylon.  Now living in a foreign land, with no unified identity as a people.  On their own, they had no future and no hope of restoration.  Period.

And for the people of Oso and the surviving families of Malaysian Air, just imagine their torment … all possibility of life exhausted.   Period.

When we feel "dried up", like those bones in Ezekiel – do we believe that God can really put warm and vibrant flesh back onto us, breathe new life into us?  If we cannot believe God is capable of reviving us, restoring us, from our most deadly-feeling parts of life - depression, addiction, habits of sin; and the helplessness and hopelessness of those times.  Do we really have faith in God at all? 

My friends, what the gospel readings over these last three Sunday’s remind us: We are in relationship with a God, who is about new life;  Of possibility;  Dot. Dot. Dot.

Five weeks ago on Ash Wednesday, the first reader proclaimed, “Now is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation.”  Not yesterday. Not tomorrow.  Right now.  Do we believe that? Do we believe in the possibility of resurrection?

Mary wants to believe as she falls to Jesus feet, sobbing, “If only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Deeply disturbed, weeping himself, Jesus goes to the cave where Lazarus’ body lies. Jesus challenges Mary and Martha (and all of us) to believe God is capable of new life even now, in this life, today  –even though we may feel as dusty and dry and dead as those bones.  Period.

My friends, Lazarus represents each of us. How many of us or others we may know, apparently-alive people, are closed in by one form of death or another? A slow death by fear, anxiety, dependence, sickness, a dead-end job, disintegrating relationships, destructive behavior.

Remember, Jesus is not put off at all by the stench of Lazarus who has laid in that tomb for 4 days.  Neither is Jesus put off by the stench of our sin, our weakness, our imperfect humanity.  Whatever the forms of death, serious or life-sapping, we ought to hear the voice of Jesus call us out today:

“______, come out!”

Unbind him. Untie her. Be free!

New life is not just intended for the "next life", but an abundance of life is promised. Right now! Believe that Jesus Christ has the power to give that life to us. 

Consider the possibility. Dot. Dot. Dot.

Mike Bayard, S.J.