Mini Sermon: Holding Onto Hope
Looking around at what is going on in our city, state, nation, and world, it is tempting to have one of two responses. The first response: the stereotypical American optimism that says everything will be alright. To be clear this optimism is not the same as hope, because this optimism relies on downplaying the reality of what is going on in the world.
This form of optimism rings hollow. It provides very little comfort for those who are actually suffering but that’s the point. This type of optimism is geared towards the anxious spectators of said suffering: those who are close enough to stand as witnesses to the pain and death that surround them, but who are still far enough to believe that they can avoid it if they simply think positive or if they hold onto the American gospel of individualism which says: if we work hard enough, then nothing bad will happen to us. The shallowness of this response means that true, life-giving hope, has no place
The second response we tend to have is being overcome with despair. There is a fine line between realism and despair and we don’t always know how to navigate it. This response does not try to downplay suffering, instead, it becomes enveloped by it. There is no running away from the grief caused by the pain that we experience and witness, but neither is there a way to get through it.
While those who respond to suffering with naive optimism often seek to outrun pain, thinking it can be avoided if they believe and do the right thing, this response says: there is no hiding, death, and grief will find us.
And that is true, very few of us will be able to go through our lives unscathed by some type of pain and suffering. But this response goes further and says that suffering will destroy us and death will have the last word. In this response, hope is viewed as a cruel joke.
So what does hope look like and how do we hold onto it in the face of suffering? Hope looks like confronting the reality of death, in whatever forms it takes head-on and also believing death does not have the final word. In today’s gospel reading, we see Mary and Martha both acknowledging the reality of death and expressing hope. Yes, they are grieving, but they haven’t given in to despair.
On the one hand, Lazarus is dead and buried. They didn’t keep the body in the house, in the naive belief that maybe he was just sleeping. They acknowledge the reality of what occurred. On the other hand, they also hold onto hope: believing that Jesus is the Messiah, the son of God, the one coming into the world.
This hope doesn’t mean they let Jesus off the hook. They call him out: If you had been here, my brother would not have died. I am most def reading this into the text, but to me, that sounds like the nicer version of saying, “where the hell were you Jesus?”
The way I put it sounds a bit blasphemous but the reality is confronting Jesus with the truth that he could have stopped Lazarus from dying is a form of hope and love: they love and trust Jesus enough to let them know exactly how they feel. Their hope isn’t afraid to demonstrate grief. Mary and Martha are hurting. They believe Jesus can do something, but that doesn’t negate their grief.
In a similar way, we as Christians believe in a God who both acts in this world and can hold onto our grief. The book of John in general tends to emphasize the divinity of Jesus. In many ways, the image of Jesus portrayed in the gospels is a bit more aloof and hard to understand than in some of the other gospels.
Even in this chapter, he is a bit of a jerk, in my opinion. He waits a few extra days to demonstrate God’s glory. It makes sense in terms of the author’s purpose for the gospel, but it’s still kind of mean. Yet in this chapter, we see Jesus’ love and care for Lazarus and for Martha and Mary. We read that he is moved by their grief.
As followers of Jesus, we hold onto hope and reject both naive optimism and complete despair, because we believe in a God who both grieves with us and acts in our world. To be sure, God’s involvement in our world isn't always as spectacular and in our face as the raising of Lazarus, but God makes Godself known if only we pay attention and notice.
We do not believe in a God who watches us with disinterest or amusement, like someone watching a reality tv show, but we believe in a God who suffers with us, who weeps with us, and who also comforts us.
We cannot, as individuals, as a congregation, or as a nation afford to ignore the reality of the pain and suffering going on in the world: with the rise of fascism and Christian nationalism, poverty, discrimination against queer and trans people, white supremacist attacks, are only going to increase.
Closing our eyes and just saying everything will be ok is not enough. but we also can’t afford to let despair immobilize us. Doing nothing whether out of naive hope or justified despair, does no one any good.
Let us hold onto the hope of a God who weeps with us, who can hold our grief, who can withstand our questions, and who acts.
Reflection questions:
What are some ways that you hold onto hope?
How can we as a church community balance the need to recognize and address the suffering we see around us and hold onto hope
Image: digital notepad. Text: We do not believe in a God who watches us with disinterest or amusement, like someone watching a reality tv show, but we believe in a God who suffers with us, who weeps with us, and who also comforts us.