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Sermons

March 2002 (click here to return to "March 2002 Sermons" page)

5th Sunday in Lent (March 17, 2002)

        “Castles in the Air”        Dr. Van Kemper 

                Text: Ezekiel 37:1-14  

 

SERMON 

 

    Those of you were here last Sunday know that I wasn’t.  I took advantage of a fare sale to travel by airplane and then by bus to the community of Tzintzuntzan in the state of Michoacán, Mexico, where I continue to do my anthropological research. On this occasion, I was there to work on the church archives, especially on the baptismal and confirmation records of the past fifty years.

    On Sunday afternoon, as we were seated at the family dinner table for the afternoon meal, we began to hear fireworks shooting off.  I asked what was going on, and my hosts – Lola and Virginia – announced that the local cohetero – that is, the “fireworks-maker” – was sponsoring a fiesta in honor of the patron saint of fireworks-makers, San Lázaro, the one we know as Lazarus. 

    The fiesta began that afternoon with a marching band passing down our street on its way to the church courtyard.  The band was accompanied by three young men, each carrying one of three large bamboo models (a bull, a man, and a woman) – all adorned with diverse fireworks that would be lighted up in the church yard later that evening.  Indeed, later that evening, we again began to hear fireworks shooting off in the church yard.  The fireworks display culminated with what is known locally as “el castillo.” This “castle” is a complicated construction of fireworks attached to a long vertical pole about 30 feet tall.  As the ultimate display of the local fireworks-maker’s art, in this instance in honor of St. Lazarus, this “castle” provided the assembled community with a brilliant, noisy, though short-lived set of fireworks.

    Always curious about the relationship between particular professions and particular saints in the Roman Catholic pantheon, I asked Lola and Virginia “Why is San Lázaro the patron saint of the fireworks-makers?”  They weren’t sure, but they knew that there had to be a reason – just as San José (Joseph) is the patron saint of carpenters.

    I have continued to puzzle over this relationship between Lázarus and fireworks all week, especially in the context of this week’s lectionary passages from Ezekiel and the Gospel according to John.  Keep this puzzle in your mind as we take a look backward to this morning’s texts from the prophet Ezekiel and the gospel-writer John.

    First, we encounter what may be one of the best known images in the book of Ezekiel – the valley of the dry bones.  You all know the story: the Lord takes the prophet (whether in a vision or in fact) to the middle of a valley full of very dry bones.  Once there, Ezekiel is told to prophesy to these bones and say to them, “O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.” And the bones came together, with sinew, flesh, and skin covering them. Then the prophet prophesied as the Lord commanded him, so that “the breath came into them, and they moved, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.”  And then Lord explained to Ezekiel that “these bones are the whole house of Israel.  They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’”

    In the end, this story is a promise of life for God’s people, a promise for revival after the Babylonian captivity in which Israel found itself during Ezekiel’s time.  The vision makes clear that the dry bones represent not just one person, or even a few families, but all of the people.  The prophet is not supposed to keep this vision to himself. Instead, he is told to share this vision with the people, to encourage their trust in the power of the Lord during their time of trial.  Ezekiel’s story is good news to the oppressed. The vision brings the people new hope. The word and spirit of the Lord provide a real miracle for the people of God.

    Now, turn with me to John’s Gospel, where we encounter the death and raising of Lazarus.  This too is a very familiar story, one we hear year after year in the week before Palm Sunday.  Let me remind you of a few key elements of the story rather than recount all of the details we read earlier.

    First, recall that Jesus did not act immediately in response to the message from Martha and Mary regarding their brother Lazarus. He did not rush off to Bethany to see what was wrong with Lazarus.  Instead, he saw Lazarus’s illness as an event through which “the Son of God may be glorified” (John 11:4).  So, a couple of days later, Jesus finally decided to walk the two miles from Jerusalem to Bethany.  Along the way, Jesus encountered Martha, to whom he declared, “Your brother will rise again.”  Soon thereafter, Jesus and Martha arrived at Bethany, where they were met by Mary.  Mary sounds pretty critical of Jesus when she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  Jesus was “greatly disturbed” and “deeply moved” – and he wept.  So, Jesus went to the cave where Lazarus’s tomb was located, told them to take away the stone, and, after giving thanks to the Lord, commanded, “Lazarus, come out!”  And the dead man came out.  Then, the story concludes: “Many of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.”

    In the post-Easter era in which the Gospel of John was written, those who heard this story had no problem making a connection between the story of Lazarus and the story of Jesus’ own resurrection.  So many of the details are similar that it would be very hard even for brand-new converts to Christianity to miss the connections – and the implications for their lives as Christians.

    Obviously, the stories of the dry bones and the tomb of Lazarus have much in common.  Ezekiel prophesies not on his own initiative, but so that the people will know that the Lord has spoken and will act.  Jesus did not raise up Lazarus just for grins, but so that the people would believe in him.  And they did!

    God’s power to act thus becomes the common link between these two tales.  And God’s people learn that even from death can come new life, not just for a few individuals but for all of God’s people.  By living out this belief, the people of God can go forward to take the actions necessary to do new things.

    At this point, take a hymnal from a pew rack or open up your large-print bulletin.  Find Hymn #296 “Camina, Pueblo de Dios/Walk On, O People of God.” 

    This is one of three hymns in The Presbyterian Hymnal by the Spaniard, Cesáreo Gabaraín (1936-1991).  Here at Trinity, we have not sung Hymn #296 for at least ten years – if ever – although we have sung the other two (#377 “Tu Has Venido a la Orilla/Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore” and #518 (“Una Espiga/Sheaves of Summer”).

    By now, you should have found Hymn #296 in the Hymnal or in your large-print Bulletin.  Listen now to the music [and words] as Danny [and Julie] guide us through the refrain and first stanza.  Follow along with the words and music as you listen. . . . .

    I hope that you noticed that the tune for this hymn is called “Nueva Creación” – two words that even those of you who have no formal knowledge of Spanish probably figured out to mean “New Creation.”

    Now, perhaps, you see the connection between the dry bones of Ezekiel’s valley, the tomb from which Lazarus is raised up by Jesus, and this hymn of New Creation by the Spaniard Gabaraín.  Now, perhaps, we are in the position to deal with the puzzle of “el castillo” – the fireworks from Tzintzuntzan.

    Remember the puzzle: Why is the patron saint of the fireworks-makers St. Lazarus?  Here is my idea. 

    Think about fireworks: a combination of chemical ingredients that, separately, don’t do anything at all.  They just lay there inert and useless. . . . just like those dry bones in the valley or the body of Lazarus in the tomb.  But put them together in just the right way, attach a fuse to bring them a spark at the right moment, and the result is both beautiful and exciting to behold – a real, though short-lived, miracle. 

    From such unlikely materials, comes joy for an entire community, as everyone from children to old folks stands shoulder to shoulder as they “ooh” and “aah” at the visual effects created by their local fireworks-maker.  Where the night was without light, it seems a “miracle” that he can construct such works, especially “el castillo,” the “castle in the air.”

    And, what about us, here at Trinity?  What are we doing about building new creations?  Remember the words of ancient Israel, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely” (Ezekiel 37:11).  Is this how we feel somedays?  Remember what Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21).  Somedays, are we trying to blame God for our own imperfections, for our declining energy, even for the congregation’s declining membership?

    In both cases, God was faithful and provided a vision of resurrection and revival.  The people only had to believe and trust in the Lord, and then take action based on that belief and trust.

    Even more than the fireworks-maker of Tzintzuntzan, we need faith that doing the right thing will create the proper interaction at the right time. The fireworks do not create themselves.  Their beauty and their excitment do not arise from chance, but by doing things “decently and in order.”  The fireworks-maker does not just dream about “el castillo;” he labors long and hard to make it come out just right.

      More than a century ago, the great American writer-philosopher Henry David Thoreau wrote:

“If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.  Now put the foundations under them.”

In this spirit, I offer this prophecy,

    “Don’t wait for someone else to make a miracle for us.  Instead, believe and trust that the Lord will show us how to find the right combination of ingredients, the right fuse, and the right spark to set it alight.

    “Don’t be invisible to our neighbors, much less settle for a once-a-year fireworks display.  Instead, become the reliable and constant “light on the hill” that our neighbors need to transform their lives.

    “In sum, build the proper foundations, so that everyday we can offer our neighbors not just impossible dreams, but real miracles; not just fireworks quickly extinguished, but long-lasting castles in the air.”  Amen.  

© 2002 Robert V. Kemper (email: rkemper@trinitypresdallas.org)