Death Is Swallowed Up Forever
Sermon
Sermons on the First Readings
Series III, Cycle B
Object:
All Saints is a time to celebrate the victory over death we share with all the saints and our risen Lord. Still, we must never think that victory is an easy one. Death is an overwhelming power that interrupts our communion with God and with one another. It is the destroyer of all that is true and good. Israel had known that power at work in her own communal disaster, the destruction of Jerusalem. Those kings anointed to be shepherds of Israel fleeced the sheep, and those appointed to care for the welfare of the lowly sought their own glory instead. Those who were supposed to be true to Yahweh played the harlot. The judgment of God was the military destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian captivity.
Still, death held sway, for the Babylonian captors were arrogant and ruthless, becoming the very epitome of a destructive dynasty in the eyes of the prophet. In the beginning of our chapter, the prophet anticipates the end to all such dynastic death dealers. The prophet praises the Lord and says, "For you have made the city a heap, the fortified city a ruin; the palace of aliens is a city no more, it will never be rebuilt" (Isaiah 25:2).
The death of the symbolic city is not to suggest that we are given instead some romantic view of rural isolation or independence. The rise of urban life was meant to be for the good of the whole. It was meant to beat back the darkness and gain control. People built cities, put walls around them, and moved into their protecting shadow to keep themselves safe from marauders, human or otherwise. The countryside is not very romantic when there is no security! The city provided stability, control, and safety -- and a sheriff, or an army. It also encouraged creativity, the growth of culture, and a sense of unity.
However, it was possible for the city to be co-opted. The city can become, like Babylon, the epitome of wealth, arrogance, power, and exploitation. Then the prophet says, God will judge the imperial city and it will become a heap, a ruin, a disaster. Like the burned-out portions of Beirut or Baghdad, it will be reduced to rubble.
Then comes the promise of a different city, a New Jerusalem. The promise begins, "On this mountain...." The mountain is the temple mount, Zion city of our God, the heart of Judah. It is Jerusalem, built as a city bound firmly together, to which the tribes of the Lord go up. It is Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blessed. That Jerusalem will be restored!
After the restoration, the next move is to feasting, to a banquet. "On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food" (25:6). A sumptuous banquet is used as a symbol of what God plans for us. The description, of course, is time bound -- a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow ("Yuck," the kids say), of well-aged wines strained clear. Of course, you have to translate it into your own desirable form of cuisine (my entree is lobster) -- though I doubt if fast food will qualify!
This banquet should not be seen as an escape, as self-indulgence, or a place to be seen, the way we often pervert our mealtimes. It is not a fund-raiser where the wealthy gather and pay big money to protect what they have. Rather, it is to be seen as relief from the ultimate acquisitiveness of the city, as nourishment for the whole person, as a Eucharist to God. It is a banquet of justice, peace, and community. It is not restricted. Not just Israel, but the nations are invited. It says, "The Lord will make for all peoples a feast." All peoples, all nations, all faces -- clearly the prophet is striving for an inclusive invitation.
Then that image is broadened. In addition to this wonderful feast, "And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever" (v. 7).
Death is overcome. Death, which snatches away loved ones, which frightens us with its arbitrariness, which gloats over its finality, which leaves us cold and empty. Death, which circumscribes life, which negates well-being, which limits our community with one another and with God. Isaiah promises that God will swallow up this death, like a great sea creature consuming a bait fish, or like a tiger effortlessly disposing of its prey. The Bible is fond of the image of Leviathan, the great monster of chaos, the very symbol of death, devouring all it meets. Here, the tables are turned! Here God swallows up death forever. The image is picked up by Paul (1 Corinthians 15:54), when he says, "Death is swallowed up in victory."
When death has been swallowed up, the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces. It is a comforting image that gets reaffirmed by the Seer in the second lesson, Revelation 21:1-6a: "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes." Then there will be no cause for sadness, no sense of loss, and no occasion for mourning.
"For this we have waited," Isaiah says; and again, "This is the Lord for whom we have waited" (25:9). All of this happens on that day, which is a coming day. Judah saw a return from exile and a restoration of Jerusalem. But still, there were those who rejected the inclusive offer, who clung to dynasty, who chose arrogance.
The church, then, hoped for another intervention and the fulfillment of that hope in Jesus. The point of the gospel story today (John 11:32-44), the raising of Lazarus, is that God was at work in Jesus Christ in order to destroy death and bring life and immortality to light. God invades the territory of death to snatch Lazarus back, to show where the real power lies. But not without honesty!
Jesus says of Lazarus, "Unbind him, and let him go." The body of Lazarus had been wrapped in linen strips liberally laced with spices, according to Jewish custom. Even spices could not contain the corruption, which Martha recognizes in her warning to Jesus: "He has been dead already for four days; by now he stinks!" That is the reality Jesus faced -- the reality we all face. That is the bondage and power of death. But Jesus says, "Unbind him, and let him go."
That is our hope, but we know it only in faith. For Lazarus must still die; and Jesus also. The story tells us that, from that day on, the authorities were determined to kill Jesus. The point is, if you promote true life in this world, you will surely stir up the forces of death. The Jesus who trembled at Lazarus' grave will tremble in his own garden of death. He will lie lost and silent in his own tomb, cut off from the land of the living. So still we wait.
The cross is his victory and the tomb is empty. "He is not here, he is risen," the angel will say. God has said, "Yes" to the cross and, "No" to death. The cry with which Jesus calls Lazarus out of the grave is only an echo of the call that called to life Jesus, the firstfruit, and will call us forth also. For the trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised and we shall be saved.
In the meantime, we live in hope. It is a hope expressed in endlessly beautiful and challenging visions in the book of the Revelation of John. The first image is cosmic. "I saw a new heaven and a new earth" -- a restoration of creation, a return to paradise, a starting over. "And the sea was no more." The sea had always been a place for practicing devastation and exploitation. Rome had used it to dominate trading, to subjugate peoples, to support its legions. So it symbolized chaos, the home of the sea monsters, Leviathan of the deep. But now, the sea is no more!
Instead of the sea, we have the river of life flowing from the throne of God. Water nourishing the tree of life, whose leaves work for the healing of the nations. This is the water that corresponds to baptism. It is our access to the new life in Christ. It is in this new life in Christ that we rejoice through our baptism. Baptism snatches us from the chaotic waters, washes us clean, and incorporates us into Christ. The shroud is snatched away, death is swallowed up forever, and we are set free. Though for now our faces may be stained with the hard tears of grief, we believe that they will be finally wiped away forever.
In churches where the cemetery is out back, it was often the custom that they would take the water after baptism and pour it on the next gravesite as a sign that God has overcome death. Not having such a cemetery in the back, our baptismal water is poured out on the ground. But as with all water, it will go back to its task of nourishing God's creation with new life.
Then, the next image in the Apocalypse is urban, just as in Isaiah. "I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God"; not the product of human efforts, for all is gift. Just when you might think you would get a glowing picture in architectural terms, it switches metaphors and becomes marital. "Prepared as a bride adorned for her husband." Jerusalem is the bride, the people of God, and is adorned gorgeously, waiting for the bridegroom to escort her to the wedding banquet, that feast of rich foods, of well-aged wines, that Eucharist of thanksgiving. It will be the feast of a community that lives entirely with God and draws its life from God.
That is the God who then speaks from the throne. "I heard a loud voice from the throne saying: See, the home of God is among mortals" (Revelation 21:3). No longer does God reign as the Holy One in unapproachable distance; rather, this God is very near. God will dwell with them and they will be God's people. Then, in the image used in Isaiah, "God will wipe every tear from their eyes."
Because death is no more, so mourning and crying and pain will be no more; for the first things have passed away. God is in charge and makes all things new. It is then sealed with a promise, the promise of one who has conquered death: "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true." Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end" (vv. 5c-6). Amen.
Still, death held sway, for the Babylonian captors were arrogant and ruthless, becoming the very epitome of a destructive dynasty in the eyes of the prophet. In the beginning of our chapter, the prophet anticipates the end to all such dynastic death dealers. The prophet praises the Lord and says, "For you have made the city a heap, the fortified city a ruin; the palace of aliens is a city no more, it will never be rebuilt" (Isaiah 25:2).
The death of the symbolic city is not to suggest that we are given instead some romantic view of rural isolation or independence. The rise of urban life was meant to be for the good of the whole. It was meant to beat back the darkness and gain control. People built cities, put walls around them, and moved into their protecting shadow to keep themselves safe from marauders, human or otherwise. The countryside is not very romantic when there is no security! The city provided stability, control, and safety -- and a sheriff, or an army. It also encouraged creativity, the growth of culture, and a sense of unity.
However, it was possible for the city to be co-opted. The city can become, like Babylon, the epitome of wealth, arrogance, power, and exploitation. Then the prophet says, God will judge the imperial city and it will become a heap, a ruin, a disaster. Like the burned-out portions of Beirut or Baghdad, it will be reduced to rubble.
Then comes the promise of a different city, a New Jerusalem. The promise begins, "On this mountain...." The mountain is the temple mount, Zion city of our God, the heart of Judah. It is Jerusalem, built as a city bound firmly together, to which the tribes of the Lord go up. It is Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blessed. That Jerusalem will be restored!
After the restoration, the next move is to feasting, to a banquet. "On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food" (25:6). A sumptuous banquet is used as a symbol of what God plans for us. The description, of course, is time bound -- a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow ("Yuck," the kids say), of well-aged wines strained clear. Of course, you have to translate it into your own desirable form of cuisine (my entree is lobster) -- though I doubt if fast food will qualify!
This banquet should not be seen as an escape, as self-indulgence, or a place to be seen, the way we often pervert our mealtimes. It is not a fund-raiser where the wealthy gather and pay big money to protect what they have. Rather, it is to be seen as relief from the ultimate acquisitiveness of the city, as nourishment for the whole person, as a Eucharist to God. It is a banquet of justice, peace, and community. It is not restricted. Not just Israel, but the nations are invited. It says, "The Lord will make for all peoples a feast." All peoples, all nations, all faces -- clearly the prophet is striving for an inclusive invitation.
Then that image is broadened. In addition to this wonderful feast, "And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever" (v. 7).
Death is overcome. Death, which snatches away loved ones, which frightens us with its arbitrariness, which gloats over its finality, which leaves us cold and empty. Death, which circumscribes life, which negates well-being, which limits our community with one another and with God. Isaiah promises that God will swallow up this death, like a great sea creature consuming a bait fish, or like a tiger effortlessly disposing of its prey. The Bible is fond of the image of Leviathan, the great monster of chaos, the very symbol of death, devouring all it meets. Here, the tables are turned! Here God swallows up death forever. The image is picked up by Paul (1 Corinthians 15:54), when he says, "Death is swallowed up in victory."
When death has been swallowed up, the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces. It is a comforting image that gets reaffirmed by the Seer in the second lesson, Revelation 21:1-6a: "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes." Then there will be no cause for sadness, no sense of loss, and no occasion for mourning.
"For this we have waited," Isaiah says; and again, "This is the Lord for whom we have waited" (25:9). All of this happens on that day, which is a coming day. Judah saw a return from exile and a restoration of Jerusalem. But still, there were those who rejected the inclusive offer, who clung to dynasty, who chose arrogance.
The church, then, hoped for another intervention and the fulfillment of that hope in Jesus. The point of the gospel story today (John 11:32-44), the raising of Lazarus, is that God was at work in Jesus Christ in order to destroy death and bring life and immortality to light. God invades the territory of death to snatch Lazarus back, to show where the real power lies. But not without honesty!
Jesus says of Lazarus, "Unbind him, and let him go." The body of Lazarus had been wrapped in linen strips liberally laced with spices, according to Jewish custom. Even spices could not contain the corruption, which Martha recognizes in her warning to Jesus: "He has been dead already for four days; by now he stinks!" That is the reality Jesus faced -- the reality we all face. That is the bondage and power of death. But Jesus says, "Unbind him, and let him go."
That is our hope, but we know it only in faith. For Lazarus must still die; and Jesus also. The story tells us that, from that day on, the authorities were determined to kill Jesus. The point is, if you promote true life in this world, you will surely stir up the forces of death. The Jesus who trembled at Lazarus' grave will tremble in his own garden of death. He will lie lost and silent in his own tomb, cut off from the land of the living. So still we wait.
The cross is his victory and the tomb is empty. "He is not here, he is risen," the angel will say. God has said, "Yes" to the cross and, "No" to death. The cry with which Jesus calls Lazarus out of the grave is only an echo of the call that called to life Jesus, the firstfruit, and will call us forth also. For the trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised and we shall be saved.
In the meantime, we live in hope. It is a hope expressed in endlessly beautiful and challenging visions in the book of the Revelation of John. The first image is cosmic. "I saw a new heaven and a new earth" -- a restoration of creation, a return to paradise, a starting over. "And the sea was no more." The sea had always been a place for practicing devastation and exploitation. Rome had used it to dominate trading, to subjugate peoples, to support its legions. So it symbolized chaos, the home of the sea monsters, Leviathan of the deep. But now, the sea is no more!
Instead of the sea, we have the river of life flowing from the throne of God. Water nourishing the tree of life, whose leaves work for the healing of the nations. This is the water that corresponds to baptism. It is our access to the new life in Christ. It is in this new life in Christ that we rejoice through our baptism. Baptism snatches us from the chaotic waters, washes us clean, and incorporates us into Christ. The shroud is snatched away, death is swallowed up forever, and we are set free. Though for now our faces may be stained with the hard tears of grief, we believe that they will be finally wiped away forever.
In churches where the cemetery is out back, it was often the custom that they would take the water after baptism and pour it on the next gravesite as a sign that God has overcome death. Not having such a cemetery in the back, our baptismal water is poured out on the ground. But as with all water, it will go back to its task of nourishing God's creation with new life.
Then, the next image in the Apocalypse is urban, just as in Isaiah. "I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God"; not the product of human efforts, for all is gift. Just when you might think you would get a glowing picture in architectural terms, it switches metaphors and becomes marital. "Prepared as a bride adorned for her husband." Jerusalem is the bride, the people of God, and is adorned gorgeously, waiting for the bridegroom to escort her to the wedding banquet, that feast of rich foods, of well-aged wines, that Eucharist of thanksgiving. It will be the feast of a community that lives entirely with God and draws its life from God.
That is the God who then speaks from the throne. "I heard a loud voice from the throne saying: See, the home of God is among mortals" (Revelation 21:3). No longer does God reign as the Holy One in unapproachable distance; rather, this God is very near. God will dwell with them and they will be God's people. Then, in the image used in Isaiah, "God will wipe every tear from their eyes."
Because death is no more, so mourning and crying and pain will be no more; for the first things have passed away. God is in charge and makes all things new. It is then sealed with a promise, the promise of one who has conquered death: "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true." Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end" (vv. 5c-6). Amen.
