Saint Charles' Episcopal Church – Saint Charles, IL
The Fifth Sunday of Lent – Lent 5 - Year A
Sunday March 8, 2008
Ezekiel 37:1-14 – Psalm 130 – Romans 8:6-11 – John 11:1-45
The Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

The weather is clear with a few spotty clouds. Out the right side of the aircraft the sun is bright and low on the horizon. The view through the windscreen in front of me is the main runway at DuPage County Airport. It’s a great day to be flying. I get my clearance to take off and check the gauges again just to be sure. All are in the green. I push the throttle in and the engine sound climbs to a roar, well not a roar really – I’m only flying a Cessna 172 Skyhawk. I start to roll down the runway. Picking up speed the little plane rises from the ground and I trim it for a level climb to my designated altitude of 7000 feet. Looking around I watch the ground fall away. With the nose up I can’t see much in front of me, but off to the left I can see where North Avenue crosses the Fox in Downtown St. Charles. I can’t see the church, but then I didn’t think I would. Keeping watch on my temp gauge, to be sure I’m not running too hot during the climb, I look around for other traffic. You can never be too careful around an airport. Once at my cruising altitude I throttle back and trim the plane for a cruising speed of 150 mph. That done, I settle in for the three hour trip to Houghton County Memorial, known in the biz as KCMX. I’ve done my research and marked the various airports along my route, the various frequencies of all the navigational aids along the way and the various bits of scenery I might want to watch for.

I’ve driven this route before, north to Green Bay, then across the Iron Hills of northern Michigan and up the Keewanaw Peninsula to Houghton, so it will be interesting to see what it looks like from the air. That’s really why I’m flying today. After a quick stop at Houghton for fuel, I want to go out across Lake Superior to Isle Royale and see what it looks like from the air. Time goes quickly as I zip along my route, handed from center to center in the Air Traffic Control system. The weather has been gorgeous all the way and I have been enjoying the scenery. In no time I am approaching KCMX. Dialing in the tower I get an update on the temperature, wind direction and speed, and the barometric pressure, an important fact to know if my altimeter is going to read correctly. The active runway is 25 and I am cleared to enter the pattern on a downwind leg.

As I turn onto the leg, throttling down to begin my descent, I notice for the first time that the engine is running a bit hot. As I watch, the needle climbs higher. Looking around in the sky about me I don’t see any other aircraft. Some good news. I can hear the engine running rougher as the oil pressure starts to drop. This is definitely not good. I can’t tell what is going wrong, but I’m losing power. I call the tower and declare an emergency. They clear me for any runway. I can feel the plane beginning to sink as my heart begins to race. Looking to my right I see a runway pointed at me with a 14 written on the end in large block letters. Red lights appear on the dash telling me something I already know. I’m in trouble. The engine stops altogether, though I can see I am trailing smoke. The silence is disquieting. Banking toward the runway I line up on the centerline and aim for the far end like I am supposed to. My airspeed drops quickly. Dropping the nose my speed climbs back to a safer range, but I’m falling too fast. Trading altitude for distance, it quickly becomes clear that I won’t make the runway. I look frantically around for a smooth place to put down but there isn’t one. Rocky ground covered with dense scrub and small pine surround the airport. It isn’t going to be pretty. I try to flair at the end to keep my vertical speed to a minimum but mistime it and I hold my breath as my Skyhawk comes to ground with a smash. A jagged line crosses my monitor followed by the notation *CRASH*

Boy is this new Flight Simulator ever cool!

I love to play games. All kinds of games. My computer at home is filled with games. My closet is filled with games. I play card games, word games, board games, simulation games, role-playing games, computer games, mental games, physical games, any kind of game. I was flying my flight simulator to relax and let off steam. I like to have the realism setting up high, so it acts more like a real airplane. It’s a little more of a challenge that way. This was the first time that my flight simulator plane ever “broke” on me, and I’m sure that I “died” the same way other real world pilots have died when something went horribly wrong – more confused than anything else. And in my confusion I had one of those “ah-ha” moments. It had to do with the game of life. And death. And playing by the rules.

This week as I reflected on our lessons for today I remembered that moment. For the last three weeks we have been hearing from the Gospel of John. First it was Nicodemus who came to Jesus in the dark to learn of a second birth, a birth from above. Next it was the Samaritan woman at the well who came with a thirst and learned of the wellspring of living water. Then last week it was the man born blind who had the light of the world break upon him. In all these encounters Jesus takes the opportunity to reveal God's glory and those involved in the encounter believe, almost in spite of themselves. This week we turn the corner in the Fourth Gospel. With this mighty act, the raising of Lazarus, the story begins the move from the revealed glory of God to the glorification of Jesus in his passion.

In this story we see the power of God and the weakness of humanity all bound up together, as Jesus takes center stage. In a rare moment we experience the full reality of the incarnation in the emotions of Jesus. We see this usually steadfast, even keeled Jesus... lose it. --When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.--These gentle words of the New Revised Standard Version translation of the bible hide the deeper reality -- "deeply moved" means angry; "greatly disturbed" in spirit means heart sick and pained. And what is it that causes this emotional tumult? Is it the death of his dear friend Lazarus? No. It is the emptiness and loss of faith that the death of Lazarus leaves behind in those around him.

It is an emptiness and loss of faith that we know all too well whenever we struggle to make sense of senseless tragedy, Whether it is the death of thousands in the war in Iraq, or the death of five students shot at NIU. Or the death of two small children in a fire set by their father. Every time something like this happens the question arises, "How could God let something like this happen?" It's a tough question to answer. But it needs to be asked.... It needs to be prayed! Whenever you learn a new game, the first thing to do is learn the rules. In the game of life there is one important rule -- everybody dies. It's the law. Like the bumper sticker says, "He who dies with the most toys, still dies."

What we learn from the story of Lazarus is that Jesus works outside our law through faith. "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." Jesus came to us to give us a new rule in the game of life -- Love. It is a rule that breaks down the rule of death, for love reaches out, even beyond the grave. In God's supreme act of love in giving his only Son for us, and Christ's supreme act of love in his death on the cross for our sins, death has lost its power over us. That is the revelation we get a glimpse of this morning. Love is again coming among us. And whether we have the dried and scattered bones of a faith long dead and forgotten or the moldering corpse of a faith bound up by sin it doesn't matter. God has the power to set the bones of our faith aright and lay flesh upon them.

Jesus is calling us out of our tombs of death. The stone has been rolled back. Life has need of us. Love has need of us. We know in our hearts, that voice that comes to us out of the light.“Mortal, can these bones live?” But still we are afraid. “If you were to note what is done amiss, O Lord, who could stand?” Still, if we can find faith enough, even to respond, “O Lord God, You know,” it will be enough. And so with the psalmist we wait. “Out of the depths have I called to you, O LORD, hear my voice.”And then, “In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Through tears of bewilderment and wonder we see a whole new world. As the breath of God fills our lungs and the light of Christ shows us the way, we hear those words we have always longed to hear. “Unbind them and let them go!" Amen.