November 3, 2024. Texts: Isaiah 25:6-9; Revelation 21:1-6a; John 11:32-44.
In previous generations they used to say, travel is broadening. Or, as travel expert Rick Steves says, it’s the best education you’ll ever have. It generally follows that the farther afield you go, the more you’ll learn. And in a sense you never really return. At least not quite like the person you were before.
When our ancestors migrated here, it was quite a journey. Especially since they departed never intending to return. Some weren’t able to provide a forwarding address, others just chose not to. They were just simply…gone. Those who remained in the old country were left to wonder and to imagine what their loved ones were seeing and doing.
Life is a journey. That’s another thing people say. There are hills and valleys, storms and rainbows. There are unexpected detours and superhighways. Always an adventure. But who is ever ready to hear that the last stop is coming up?
It’s All Saints Sunday. Did you notice that there is no mention of saints in any of the scripture readings today? Instead, these lessons speak of the end of the journey. The last stop. Going home with God.
Isaiah imagines how that will be. On a beautiful mountain. Psalm 24, a song of gratitude, speaks of a mountain too. One where people of innocent hands and pure hearts can come to receive God’s blessing.
That mountain was a resting place for pilgrims in this life. A place of refreshment and restoration. From which people would return with a broadened outlook and new energy to continue in the excellent but sometimes bumpy journey of faith.
The mountain Isaiah foretells is not that place. It’s the terrifying mountain where Moses met with God. But it has changed. Instead of giving people commandments written in stone, God spreads out a feast.
This mountain is God’s place for all people. Not just holy people. Not perfect people. All people.
No longer is there any danger of dying from seeing God’s uncovered face. Now God comes to the people and tenderly wipes away every tear from their eyes.
And the people on this mountain will say, Lo, our God is a saving God. Not a punishing, exiling God. We knew it all along. While some cursed God and some ran away, we waited all our lives. All our waiting was hope. And now Lo, we have gladness that no one is able to take away.
The homing place that John saw in his revelation from God is a city built on Mount Zion. God isn’t only a lover of nature it seems. This is gritty, urban Jerusalem, but renewed. A dazzling bride waiting for her beloved husband. Here is God again, drying the tears from people’s eyes. Just as Isaiah saw, there’s no more dying here.
Nor do God’s people have to search for God’s dwelling. Because God’s home is on the same street we live on. The door is wide open and the lights are on. You can count on it. John said so in the Revelation.
With all this in mind, the story of Jesus, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus is starkly different. There is no feast here. This is no mountain of God’s blessing and provision. There are only mourners shedding tears that are not wiped away. Even Jesus, arriving late, cries.
This travel is not broadening. Lazarus has migrated beyond anyone’s view. To another place. He has left no forwarding address. The door to his tomb is closed.
People said harsh things. Quick to blame the miracle-working Rabbi Jesus. Dead is dead, see. You have no power here Jesus. Mary and Martha blamed Jesus too. Good disciples though they were. Grief can make us a little crazy.
Their thinking was: if only Jesus had arrived within three days. Lazarus might have had a chance. If only you had been here Jesus. But you weren’t.
Because that’s how life and death work in our world. Right? There’s a point beyond which no one can be saved. Four days is too many.
They reckoned wrongly as it turned out. Even when Jesus is not seen, God is still present. And saving. What an education they were getting that day!
The women were not abandoned. Lazarus was never alone. God is. Everywhere and always. All it takes to see the glory of God is simple belief. Pretty sure I told you this, said Jesus.
The faith of many people was tried hard that day. The women revised their view of death since now resurrection was a real thing, not just a mysterious word religious leaders like to throw around. Lazarus came out a little stiff and in need of some unwinding. But he was none the worse for this bump in his journey. And he had an amazing story to tell.
So may it be for all of us. Saints and sinners alike we’re all still on the journey. Writing our travelogues. And God is with us. In the city and on the mountain, wherever people have hope.
Oh, and here’s a working definition of a saint to ponder: people who are not conformed to this world, but are transformed by the renewing of their minds to discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable. Just a little something Paul the apostle wrote to the Roman Christians about journeying with God. Amen.