Lent 5A 2026

THE REV. E. WAYNE ROLLINS

​​ Today we have two familiar, even beloved stories. The first is from that madman prophet Ezekiel, whose words are sometimes so explicit that ancient scholars advised limiting their reading to only those over the age of thirty. You want to get teenagers to read the Bible, tell them that. 

The second is the story of raising Lazarus from the dead, which is only found in John’s Gospel. It’s an event so radical that a conspiracy was launched to murder Lazarus because his presence caused many to believe Jesus is the Messiah. Whether that happened, we don’t know. But we do know that Lazarus would have had to face death a second time. 

As you might guess, I want to take a look at these two stories that doesn’t adhere to traditional interpretation. I’m not really all that interested in what others have said about them, and repeating that to you. You might also guess that's one reason I wouldn’t use AI to write sermons. For better or worse, it’s all on me this morning. 

We are surrounded by death and the multitude of ways leading to it. We might even find that we support a lot of those ways. A few weeks ago, as I drove friends to visit another friend dying of lung cancer, I found myself begging some of them to give up smoking, because I didn’t want to have to do that again. I didn’t make them get out of the car and walk so they would understand how important breathing continues to be. I think they get that, despite the effects of addiction. 

During the covid lockdown six years ago I decided to read some literature I hadn’t bothered to consider before then. At the urging of one friend, I read the whole Harry Potter series in March. Then I downloaded and read all of C. S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. I commend that series to you, which is enhanced by having either a literal or figurative child on your knee as you do so. 

It’s the last book of Narnia that comes to mind today. Entitled The Last Battle, it begins in a shocking way that the reader imagines, but is only told later is fact. A battle rages, its background being the old story of good versus evil, which is at the heart of the Harry Potter series as well. 

Several warriors find themselves in a cabin, where it seems they face inevitable destruction. The heroes of the story recognize the appearance of a way out, while others cower in fear. Fear prevents them from taking the risk of leaving the cabin, while those who do leave enter into a new field that can best be described as paradise. 

No more spoilers. Consider Ezekiel’s pile of bones, Lazarus’ sealed tomb. The call rings out. Prophesy to the bones! Lazarus, come out! What if the bones replied, “we’ve gotten used to this,” or Lazarus said “I’m just fine in here.” 

​This parish is engaged in a discernment period to try to figure out what the future holds for it. There are and will continue to be efforts to keep repeating past glory days, or even today's familiar days that are maybe not so glorious. What if the only prophetic words worth hearing are a command to just get up and live?

Ezekiel is given no declarative words of assurance of a livable wage. Lazarus isn’t told his 401k will be restored. But there is a command given by Jesus to those standing around in amazement. “Unbind him and let him go.”

How can we do that if we continue to bind ourselves to ways that no longer give life to us or to those around us? Perhaps the best we can do is be honest about the aspects of our lives that keep us in the sun-parched desert or behind sealed doors of the tombs of our own choosing. Maybe then we can begin to respond faithfully to the command “get up and live.”

We like to know what’s going to happen. We want to control the topics, schedule the dates, limit the time span. But we’re talking about eternal things, and discernment means listening more than talking, waiting more than achieving. It’s confusing, sometimes frustrating. It’s uncomfortable. It’s also about God.

God offers us life without calendars, schedules, or precise GPS coordinates. The call to come out of our comfortable and comforting tombs is a call to live in the surprising wonder of the God who told Moses, “I will be what I will be.” There’s no controlling that, although that doesn’t seem to keep us from trying.

The wind hears the voice of God that enables it to become the breath of the Spirit that gives us life. We can say we’re ready to inhale, but the proof comes when we actually do it.
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And then, we become part of the continuing and beloved story of new life that is God’s joy to help us keep telling.