Worship, Sun 29 March - Lazarus

Hello everyone, welcome to our online worship for what is the 5th Sunday in Lent.
How are you doing in these odd times?
I hope you're keeping well, getting on with the business of staying at home as much as possible, and that, although separated from others due to the circumstances... that you're not feeling isolated.
If you'd like a wee blether, or feeling the need of a listening ear, please don't hesitate to get in touch with me [Nikki] at the manse on 01864 502139 - and especially if you're stuck for someone picking up and delivering a prescription ... happy to help on that as I can.
Over the course of the weeks we're in lockdown, along with Sunday reflections for home worship, I'll be posting wee bits 'n bobs during the week - prayers, poems, reflections, maybe even the occasional hymn you can listen and even sing along to, so do check in and see what's on here. At the bottom of each post,
there's space to leave comments, so feel free to do so [n.b. they are checked first before going up to the page],
it'd be great to hear from you. If you fancy requesting a favourite hymn to go up here during
the week - if I can find it, I'll put it on for you!

And now, let's have a time of worship together, as much as we're able...
Our theme this week comes from the Gospel reading for the day - John 11:1-45 -
which tells the story of the raising of Lazarus...
the theme is one of hope - even in the darkest of situations.
Let's begin with prayer.

Prayer/
God of all consolation and compassion,
your Son comforted Martha and Mary;
your breath alone brings life
to dry bones and weary souls.
Pour out your Spirit upon us,
that we may face despair and fear
and our imposed isolation
with the hope of resurrection
and faith in the One
who called Lazarus forth from the grave.

When nothing is right,
when we are weary and lost,
when clouds dull the sky,
help us to be still.

When our cries are unheeded,
when no effort bears fruit,
when the sun sets,
help us to be still.

When love is over,
when hope is gone,
when darkness covers the land,
help us to be still.

For in being still,
in refusing to panic or despair,
we shall come to know that God is there,
suffering alongside and with us,
waiting to show us stepping-stones through the swirling waters,
and to help us sing a new song.*

When words are hard to find,
we turn to the words you shared with your friends, and pray:
Our Father,
who art in heaven
hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever.
Amen
*words in italics by Rev Kate Compston

Hymn/ There is a Redeemer
think of this as a musical pause for listening to and meditating on, or, as the video comes
with the words, if you'd like, sing along...

Reading/ John 11:1-45
The Death of Lazarus
1Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha.
2Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair;
her brother Lazarus was ill. 3So the sisters sent a message to Jesus,
‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’
4But when Jesus heard it, he said,
‘This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God
may be glorified through it.’
5Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, 6after having heard
that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. 7Then after this
he said to the disciples,
‘Let us go to Judea again.’
8The disciples said to him,
‘Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?’
9Jesus answered,
‘Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble,
because they see the light of this world.
10But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.’
11After saying this, he told them, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going
there to awaken him.’
12The disciples said to him, ‘Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.’
13Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was
referring merely to sleep. 14Then Jesus told them plainly,
‘Lazarus is dead. 15For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.
But let us go to him.’
16Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow-disciples,
‘Let us also go, that we may die with him.’

17When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days.
18Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, 19and many of the Jews had
come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. 20When Martha heard that
Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. 21Martha said to Jesus,
‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22But even now I know that God
will give you whatever you ask of him.’
23Jesus said to her,
‘Your brother will rise again.’
24Martha said to him,
‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’
25Jesus said to her,
‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,
26and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’
27She said to him,
‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’

28When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately,
‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you.’
29And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. 30Now Jesus had not yet come
to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31The Jews who were with
her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because
they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32When 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.’
33When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was
greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34He said,
‘Where have you laid him?’
They said to him,
‘Lord, come and see.’
35Jesus began to weep. 36So the Jews said,
‘See how he loved him!’
37But some of them said,
‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’

38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone
was lying against it. 39Jesus said,
‘Take away the stone.’
Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him,
‘Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.’
40Jesus said to her,
‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’
41So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upwards and said,
‘Father, I thank you for having heard me.
42I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here,
so that they may believe that you sent me.’
43When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice,
‘Lazarus, come out!’
44The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in
a cloth. Jesus said to them,
‘Unbind him, and let him go.’
45Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did,
believed in him.
                               May God  bless us as we read his word. Amen.

Reflection/
A common reading for this particular Sunday in the season of Lent is the above passage from John's gospel: the story of the raising of Lazarus. If you happen to listen to worship on the radio or catch a service online or on the telly, you may very well find that this is the focus scripture for worship [you might also hear the story from Ezekiel of the valley of the dry bones, and also Psalm 130].
In fact, you'll find yourself in company with many around the world who will also be hearing and thinking about this reading - the Body of Christ both local and global.
While always a compelling story, and a foreshadowing of what's ahead as we move towards
Palm Sunday and the unfolding events of Holy Week and Good Friday, somehow this year,
the story of Lazarus, his sisters, and their friend Jesus takes on an odd resonance.

In the run up to the story, we have Lazarus, ill.
There's the anxiety and fear of his sisters as they try to tend to him and, hope that all will be well.
There's the friend who may be of help, who is called, but who is delayed.
So many emotions, so much energy expended, and in the end, the outcome that's most dreaded
becomes the reality for this small, close-knit group of siblings.
Lazarus dies.
Anxiety and fear are replaced by desolation and despair, and of hopes dashed.
Martha and Mary turn their attentions to preparing for a funeral and a burial.
Lazarus is physically distanced - put into the isolation of the tomb;
the stone is rolled over the opening.
For him, life has ended. For his sisters, life goes on, although now changed forever.
The sisters mourn, along with others in the wider community.

While separated from this particular story by nearly 2 000 years, as I read it over the course
of the week and in the particular set of circumstances we find ourselves in at the moment,
it really resonated.
I wondered about the current atmosphere of anxiety and fear concerning physical well-being;
wondered about the many emotions, the many feelings, being experienced as a result
of what might come to pass with COVID-19 -
and of those whose hopes have already been dashed as loved ones have succumbed.
And, I wondered too, about the physical distancing that is now so much a part of our lives -
of being communities in the midst of lockdown... the doors of our homes not so much opening,
but firmly closing us in.

I was saying to a pal the other day that while Lent may be a time of giving up, that it felt like
the 'lentiest' of Lents this year. Whether in lockdown or out and about doing essential work,
there's a collective sense of giving up things, and feelings of loss;
a collective grief, perhaps as we work through the loss of the everyday sense of normal -
daily routines, particular ways of working, of being,
catching up with friends over a cuppa,
ordinary shopping and school runs...
loss too, for many of work and income.
While we're not quite Lazarus, some of us may feel a little like normal everyday life as we
know it has ended. And yet, perhaps we're also like Martha and Mary, life also goes on,
but oh, how it's changed.
What do we do?

First, perhaps, is not to be hard on ourselves for how we may be feeling at any given moment.
There's no one way to get through a difficult time, just as there's no blueprint for grief -
a current hashtag doing the rounds on social media is #BeKind - and it's not just about being
kind and looking out for neighbours... we need to be kind to ourselves as well. If there are times
when we feel a bit wobbly and overcome, it's important that we're kind to ourselves about that
- part of the reality we're experiencing, it's part of how we're processing and dealing with something
that can feel so very much out of our control...it's okay to feel it. Just as it's okay to talk to God
about it - while we might think 'this is such a small thing and there are other things going on
that are more important', there is nothing that can't be taken to and offered up to God -
God doesn't discount our pain, our worries, our fears, so we don't have to do that either.
And it might also be a very helpful thing to get in touch with a friend or family member and
talk about it with them - it may give them the freedom to say what they're feeling as well?
We can create a community of shared loving kindness, even in the midst of our physical separation.

But, then, there's also going back to that story of Lazarus.
His death is not the end of the story.
There's more.
Lent may be the season traditionally associated with giving up things [or taking things on],
but it's also the season of waiting.
As people who follow Jesus, we wait in hope.
The story of Lazarus points to something unexpected.
Just as Jesus comes back to Bethany,
just as a stone is rolled away and somehow life emerges and Lazarus is restored,
so we are a community whose hope is founded upon
One who comes back not just to Bethany, but from beyond death itself -
we are a community whose hope is founded upon life, upon resurrection.
We need not fear death - our job is to explore and to live life.
So, my current take on the Lazarus story:
I wonder...
at some point, just as the season of Lent will pass away,
so our time of waiting and physical isolating will also pass.
When we emerge from behind our locked doors into broader horizons,
how will the isolation, the waiting, all the things we couldn't have or couldn't do
affect the way we live?
Already, in the midst of the hard time we're in, while some people may be acting unhelpfully,
so many people have been acting heroically, and wonderfully and kindly to complete strangers.
Already, old ways of doing things, old ways of being, have had to change - there's been such
an outpouring of creativity to find new ways of being about to function as human beings
in a strange new world.

My own hope as we emerge blinking into the sunlight of a hard-won freedom
is that our current 'normal' will be changed -
that systems and ideologies that have been shown not to be helpful will be challenged and changed,
that each one of us, having been separated, may find a deeper appreciation for one another...
and, not take each other, or what we have, perhaps so much for granted.
Perhaps we may just experience life in a deeper, richer, fuller way -
I'm curious to see what happens - as a start, here's to building communities of creativity and kindness.
For Lazarus, and his sisters, once Jesus came back to Bethany, nothing was ever quite the same again.
For us, as people of faith, once Jesus came back from death itself, nothing can ever be the same:
the doors of life have been thrown wide open - we're invited to unwrap the things that bind us and live.
Even as we wait in the darkness of Lent and in the shadow of COVID-19, the light of hope can
never fully be extinguished for we worship a God whose Son is 'the resurrection and the life.'
Augustine, that great 5th century African theologian, reminds us who we are:
'We are the Easter people, and "alleluia" is our song.'

May you know God's peace and love, and may you live in the light and life of the Spirit,
this day and always. Amen.

Hymn/ Christ be our light

Prayers of concern/
In this time of COVID-19, we pray:
When we aren't sure,
God, help us be calm;
when information comes from all sides, correct and not,
help us to discern;
when fear makes it hard to breathe,
and anxiety seems to be the order of the day,
slow us down, God;
help us to reach out with our hearts,
when we can't touch with our hands;
help us to be socially connected,
when we have to be socially distant;
help us to love as perfectly as we can,
knowing that "perfect love casts out all fear."

For the doctors, we pray,
for the nurses, we pray,
for the technicians and the cleaners and the
aides and the caregivers, we pray,
for the researchers and theorists,
the epidemiologists and investigators,
for those who are sick,
and those who are grieving, we pray,
for all who are affected,
all around the world...
we pray
for safety,
for health,
for wholeness.

May we feed the hungry,
give drink to the thirsty,
clothe the naked and house those without homes;
may we walk with those who feel they are alone,
and may we do all that we can to heal
the sick—
in spite of the epidemic,
in spite of the fear.

Help us, O God,
that we might help each other.

In the love of the Creator,
in the name of the Healer,
in the life of the Holy Spirit that is in all and with all,
we pray.
May it be so.
Amen.

Poem for reflection/ Martha, on the death of Lazarus

She cannot throw his shoes away
and runs her thumb along the grooves -
perhaps he’ll need them back one day?

She feels the hollows toes have made,
and feels his presence in the room -
she cannot throw his shoes away.

She sits and holds her tears at bay
looks at his clothes, smells death’s perfume -
perhaps he’ll need them back one day?

She stumbles in her grief, feels rage,
feels numb, feels sad; how grief consumes -
she cannot throw his shoes away.

She rises, at the Rabbi’s gaze
and, shoes in hand, a small hope blooms -
perhaps he’ll need them back one day?

‘Come out!’ she hears the Rabbi say
and signs of life sound from the tomb:
she cannot throw his shoes away
perhaps he’ll need them back one day?
           by Nik Mac, 2019

Music meditation/
The suggested Psalm for today is Ps 130 and there's a lovely version of it with a rather familiar
beginning, and ending... a lovely hymn of comfort and hope.

Closing prayer/
Our closing prayer was written by the Rev Lezley Stewart, who works as a
Recruitment and Support Secretary for Ministries for the Church of Scotland.
This was sent out to all CofS ministers this week, and put up on the CofS website.
It's too good not to share:

Locked down...
There were other doors
once locked in fear,
in a time of waiting
and distress.

It was an uncertain,
questioning time -
longing for what had been known
and treasured before.

Into that space,
calming and soothing,
came these welcome words -
“Peace be with you.”

Peace be with you in every worry,
in every sleepless night,
in every loss experienced,
in every comfort now distant.

Peace be with you in every certainty,
in the shared burden of these days,
in the unexpected connections,
in the gift of another sunset and sunrise.

Peace be with you and yours,
the deepest peace,
the strongest peace,
the peace that passes all understanding.

Christ is our peace
and is in our midst.
His words echo again -
“Peace be with you.”
                            Amen

For further reflection over the week, should you wish: full sermons from previous years/
If you'd like to read some previous sermons on this text over the next wee while, you
can find them at the following two links below - and do bear in mind that sermons are
meant to be spoken/preached, not read, so the way I put them together is done a little
differently to writing an essay, as such... they take on a particular energy of their own
on any given Sunday, and I do often go 'off-piste' on the day and add or subtract parts.
With that caveat, here we are:
HERE from 2019 in July
and
HERE from 2018 in February