The Twenty-fourth Sunday
after Pentecost, Proper 27C, November 11, 2007
Words No Grave Can Stop
Job 19:23-27a,
2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17,
Luke 20:27-38
The Rev. Robert B. Wood,
St. Aidan’s Episcopal Church, Alpharetta, Georgia
Just about three years ago, my family
and I moved here from Columbus, Mississippi. Columbus is a lot like
Madison, Georgia, or Savannah, or Charleston in that is has grand,
antebellum homes—and a yearly tour of homes that aims to share the
rich tradition of Columbus with people from all over the country. On
that tour, visitors get a chance to see the historic Friendship
Cemetery too—where American pioneers and confederate soldiers have
been laid to rest. But are they really resting? Or do they get to
speak?
Well, at least once a year they do speak
during the “Tales from the Crypt.” Local high school students, in
studying history, research the lives of those buried at Friendship—and
then—instead of writing a research paper—they dress in the clothing of
the time period and introduce themselves as “one of the deceased”—Mr.
Hardy or young Ernestine Sanders. Visitors walk from grave to grave
to hear the stories of those who have come before.
To have a voice from beyond the grave.
What would you say—or want to say—if you or somebody playing you—could
speak from beyond the grave? What words or what message would you
like to live for generations? That would be an interesting choice for
us all. Thanks to this mornings lesson, we know what Job would say.
"O that my words were written down! O
that they were inscribed in a book! O that with an iron pen and with
lead they were engraved on a rock forever! For I know that my
Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth;
and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall
see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and
not another.
Job’s grand statement of faith and hope
– is one of the Old Testament hints of resurrection. He wanted to
chisel those words into some rock—make sure some student or another
found them and told them again and again. Job desperately wanted
generations of people to know that when skin has been destroyed—he
shall—we shall—see God, our redeemer who lives.
He got his wish! It’s no wonder these
words are written down in the prayer book, part of every funeral in
the Episcopal Church. They bring us all hope of redemption and eternal
life with God. But apparently, the Sadducees didn’t believe them.
The Sadducees. Generations after Job. One of the Jewish religious
groups of Jesus’ time—who have their own quarrel with Jesus—one we get
to overhear this morning.
That quarrel comes in a section of
disputes that religious leaders are having with Jesus. It’s as if
detractors are lined up to test Jesus— to try to get under his skin
and poke holes in his teachings. As the quarreling began—just before
this morning words—Jesus is asked about paying taxes to Caesar. And
he retorts—give to Caesar those things that are Caesars and give to
God those things that are God’s. Next!
And the Sadducees step up and ask their
question about the resurrection—because they didn’t believe in life
after death. Instead, they believe that people, family names—live on
in their children. That human hope is in the family tree. “However,
if there is a resurrection, Jesus,” there must have been skepticism
in their voice—“if there is resurrection, and a person has been
married more than once—even seven times—who are you with in heaven?”
On the surface, the question seems out
of left field. But you see, Moses had prescribed that should an
eldest brother die and leave a widow—the next oldest brother had to
marry her—so that the family bloodline would continue. Or in a real
sense, so that the all-important oldest brother would not die but live
on and be able to speak in the children conceived by his younger
siblings.
It was a social contract…much as
marriage itself was in those days. For Moses, and now for these
Sadducees and many Jews, a family’s hope of eternal life (if you can
call it that) was in the family tree—an uninterrupted,
multi-generational bloodline. Jesus knew this teaching—but he was
about to change it. He starts by not even accepting the premise of
the question. Moses, he says, had himself told all that the God of
the burning bush was the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
These three famous covenant
fathers…their skin had been destroyed for many generations when Moses
saw the burning bush. But since God is a God of the living, not the
dead, that must mean that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were
alive—somehow—by the grace of God it turns out—and they are living in
eternal comfort.
For Jesus—the premise is the last line
of the gospel reading today: “To God all of them are alive." In a
short time, Jesus would add a personal touch to that premise. He
would show the Sadducees and the whole world, something else new—in
his own death—without spouse or child—and at the same time creating a
family—people he called “children of the resurrection.” These
children have their hope in his blood, and not in family trees and
earthly blood-lines.
Or as Paul put it to the Thessalonians:
Jesus “loved us and through grace gave us
eternal comfort and good hope” by calling us his own. It seems
to me almost the same message of Job: our redeemer lives and in the
end, our eyes shall see him. My hope is that that message that
premise of our life in faith, is not just inscribed in our holy Book
but is inscribed in our hearts and on our tongues that we may speak
and pass it on.
It is also my hope that you don’t read
these complicated words about marriage as words of discouragement from
marriage in general—and get bogged down in the transition from this
life to the next—that in effect is a mystery.
How it looks on the other side is not a
message we can inscribe—but that there is another side—and that
our redeemer calls us there…will meet us there—that is the point and
premise of our life. That is the good news. I don’t think Jesus
would have gone to the wedding in Cana of Galilee if he were against
marriage in this age. And he would not have chosen a married
disciple, Peter, to lead his church if he were really against
marriage.
What these words are closer to meaning
is that God’s enduring blessings don’t really come in earthly terms,
like long life, earthly prosperity, and a family tree full of
children. What is means is that God’s enduring blessing to us is
redemption, and we know our redeemer lives, and his name is Jesus
Christ.
So what could these reading say to us
more particularly on the day of an annual parish meeting? Well, today
is a day of our proclamation. To announce what we’ve worked on this
year. To pass out annual reports—or preliminary annual reports as
the case may be. So I think these lessons help to keep our daily work
and this meeting in perspective. That we are not building up ministry
and property and creating a family tree just for earthly security.
Instead the church and our hearts are
the rocks on which is inscribed the great message of Job and the great
promise of Jesus, that our redeemer lives that we are resurrection
children and that we live that we exist as church no longer for
ourselves, but for him who died and rose for us.
Those words don’t come from the grave.
They are stronger than the grave because our God is God not of the
dead, but of the living. It’s a message that is never laid to rest
but one that speaks now and forever. Amen.
© The Rev. Robert B. Wood. All Rights
reserved.
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