As we move closer to the end of Lent and to Holy Week, the Church’s lectionary readings begin to show the dark forces that gather against Jesus and his awareness of his impending death. In this time, we see Jesus rely increasingly on his Father. We also see presages of hope for the everlasting life that defeats death.

    This first lesson this week comes from the book of the prophet Ezekiel. This well-known vision of the valley of dry bones features prominently in the first portion of the Easter Vigil, as it establishes resurrection as the antidote to despair. In Ezekiel’s own time, the dry bones were a metaphor for the downcast spirit of the exiled nation of Israel. The prophet showed that the power of God’s life-giving Spirit, seen in the rushing winds can reanimate them, raise them up and send them out to reenter the promised land. When the bones say that they are “cut off completely,” they mean that they are within the power of death. To this, God replies that he will open their graves and bring them up and back to their own soil, with God’s Spirit within them.

    In his letter to the Romans, Paul explains the power of the indwelling Spirit of God: “to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Paul carries resurrection into the realm of Spirit when he writes, “if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness.” The same God who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in believers and gives life to our mortal bodies, allowing us even now to participate in eternal life.

    Our gospel lesson this week is the crowning miracle, or “sign” that shows Jesus as the giver of life while at the same time precipitating his own death. The people involved in this episode are familiar to us as great friends of Jesus. When Lazarus fell ill, his sisters Mary and Martha sent for Jesus to come to them and heal their brother. Jesus, whose life we hear was in direct danger, deliberately delayed going to them. Finally, when news arrived that Lazarus had died, Jesus said to his disciples, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” When they arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had been dead for four days; from Martha we hear that there was already a stench. The two sisters each expressed to Jesus their disappointment in his delay, but they also affirmed their belief in him as the Messiah. Jesus went with them to Lazarus’ tomb, and once there, he was overcome with grief and he wept. Death moves Jesus, both in his humanity and in his divinity. Death grieves even God. Still, Jesus affirmed the power of God and promised that those who believe would see his glory. He had them remove the stone from the mouth of the tomb, and while this happened, he prayed. Here is Jesus’ appeal to the power of his Father: “I 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.” Then Jesus cried out loudly, “Lazarus, come out!” And he did. And many who were there believed.

    We see that Jesus trusted completely that his Father would raise Lazarus from the dead. He would carry that same trust, this time for himself, to his own death on the cross. How do we respond to Jesus’ example of such confident dependence on God? It can give us the power of hope in adversity. It can bring the gift of perspective, allowing us to see God at work in our lives. It can help us to trust in God’s providence. We will need such powerful gifts to sustain us through the trials we will share with Jesus in the journey to Holy Week and beyond.

So far in the wilderness journey of Lent, we have encountered the necessity of fighting temptation, the urgency of the call to conversion, and the power of meeting God in the living water. This week, we will explore how the endeavor of self-discovery is transformed when we realize the grounding of our identity in God.
    Our Old Testament reading fast-forwards through the life of the people of Israel, taking us all the way to the time of Israel’s desire for a king. God has reluctantly granted their request, and Saul has tried and failed to be the king that Israel needs. As we enter this story in Sunday’s reading, the Lord is speaking to his servant Samuel, telling him to get over his grieving for Saul’s failure and get ready to go out and anoint a new king, someone God has already chosen. God tells him to go to Bethlehem, to the household of Jesse, where he will find the chosen one among his sons. Samuel arrives, and Jesse’s sons pass before him; he thinks that he can sense kingship in the good looks and height of the first son. God tells Samuel not to be concerned with outward appearance. God sees what mortals cannot—the human heart—and bases his choices accordingly. One by one the sons pass in front of Samuel, and not one of them is God’s chosen. Jesse tells him that one son remains, the youngest, who is out keeping the sheep (hint: a metaphor for kingship). David is summoned, and when he appears, “ruddy, [with] beautiful eyes, and handsome,” God tells Samuel to anoint him. When the horn of oil is poured over David’s head, “the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.” The indwelling of God’s spirit changes him.
    The gospel lesson is another dramatic encounter with Jesus from John. This week Jesus meets a man “blind from birth.” The question immediately turns to the cause of his blindness, with prevailing wisdom saying that human sin must be the cause. Jesus rejects this view, saying that it is so that  “God’s works might be revealed in him.” Then, Jesus heals him by applying mud made with saliva to his eyes and telling him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam. When the man returns with his sight restored, his neighbors and acquaintances begin to ask questions. Soon, the Pharisees are involved, and there is a trial. The man is judged a sinner and driven out of the temple. Jesus finds the man and leads him into deeper belief. The final verdict comes from Jesus: “I came into the world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” First, you have to accept and admit your blindness.
    Our brief reading from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians is part of his appeal for a changed way of life. He writes, “Once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light—for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true.” We have become children of light because we have become Christ’s own; he lives in us, and we live, really live, because we are in him. Once we are able to see that what we thought was our true self was just a shadow compared to the self we are in Christ, we have made the great discovery of who we really are. ​