Lent 5 | John 11:1-45

In ancient Babylon, there was a garden in which the original Tree of Life was planted. The people loved and cherished this tree. Other folks came from hundres, even thousands off miles away to see it, and it was a wonder to behold.
 
It shone with a golden glow that was even more pronounced at night. The people of Babylon believed that God had given them the world’s most precious possession, and they felt they must do whatever than could to protect it. So they build high walls around the garden to ward against vandals and the city’s rivals. And since it was the center of the city’s identity, other buildings went up on the garden’s periphery: an ampitheater here, a columbarium there, a museum over yonder, even a new palace.
 
In fact, the people built up the walls so well and so high, and cultivated the businesses surrounding it so efficiently, that no one even noticed when, for lack of sunlight, the Tree of Life withered and died.
 
This parable came to me several months ago, and of course, like most parables, this story is not about ancient Babylon. It’s about us. We have, in our midst, the Tree of Life, and we have become so busy, and so focused on other things, that I fear that if we are not careful, the treasure entrusted to us might wither and die.
 
I’m afraid that we’ve lost sight of what we are here for: to love each other. That’s it. It’s a simple thing, but it has far-reaching implications. The promise of the Gospel, the mission of the church is to experience in this place the kind of love God has for us.  If we can do that, if we can love each other even half that much, then that love will transform us, will transform our lives, will transform our community, within, and outside these walls.
 
But it seems to me we’ve gotten so busy tending to the business of this place
That we’ve lost sight of the very thing that was most precious. It’s been way too long since we’ve had fun together, since I’ve laughed or played with any of you, except just one-on-one. I miss it.
 
This situation reminds me of when I was a very young adult, when I first moved out of my parents’ house, when I was finally on my own. The reality of life hit me, and suddenly there was no time for the creative plans and the ideals I had looked forward to. At first, I didn’thandle that freedom too well. It took a lot of work to find the balance.
 
It was easier when the old guard was here: Harvey and Skippy, Laura White and the Ferry’s, Royal and the Asers and the McCulloms. We thirtysomethings didn’t have the freedom we have now--in that we diddn't make the decisions--but we actually had a lot more freedom, in that the administration of the parish was taken care of and we were free to play, to create, to vision, and to build .
 
Now, however, the reality has hit is. We’re the grownups now, and there is precious little time for all the things we used to love. The hard work of maintaining the building has sapped all the life out of us. In erecting our walls we have, I fear, blocked out the sunlight. We’re making it, we’re struggling by, but we’re surviving, not living, and certainly not thriving. We’ve become irritable, and we’ve let petty grievances and bickering sneak into our relationships.
 
It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just the way it is. It is going to take some attention and effort to strike the right balance between taking care of business and taking care of each other.
 
And taking care of each other, in my opinion, is our top priority. So if you’re too busy, or overburdened to be creative, to show up for each other, then I say quit the administrative stuff. I don’t know how we’ll run things, but we’ll figure it out. And the fact is there won’t be anything TO run if we lose sight of the love we’re called to have for one another, if we forget what we’re supposed to be here to do.
 
In our Gospel reading for today, the Pharisees are all up in arms because Jesus cared more about the blind man than he did the rules, the structure, the edifice of Jewish law that his forbears had labored for centuries to erect. Another wall that blocked out the light, and caused people to lose sight of what was REALLY important. Jesus pushed all of that stuff aside and just LOVED people. If we really want to follow him, that’s the way to do it.
 
It sounds easy, but actually, it’s the hardest thing in the world to do. When we feel angry, or resentful, or betrayed, or slighted, or discounted, our animal instincts take over. But this is not the African savannah, or the business world. Here we are called to be something different. Something hard. The church is a laboratory for the hard work of spiritual transformation. We come here, not because it’s easy, but because the ideals we aspire to are HARD, and we cannot achieve them by ourselves. We’re here to support each other, to encourage each other, to DO the hard work.
 
Work like forgiveness, like tolerance and patience, and yes, love, in spite of the indignities we’ve suffered. This is what it means to follow Jesus, it is what we are called to do, and if we don’t want to do it, then we should change the sign out front and call ourselves a management company or whatever else it is we are. But if we want to be a church, we’ve got to remember how to love each other. We’ve got to be serious about this transformation thing. We’ve got to remember WHAT WE ARE HERE FOR.
 
Lent is typically a time for personal reflection and reformation. But I think, in the face of all we’ve been experiencing of late, that it is appropriate for us to also look critically and prophetically at our corporate life as well. Where have we gone astray? Where have we missed the mark? What needs attention? What kind of a people is God calling us to be, and how can we become THAT?
 
We’ve built some fine things, here, but let’s be careful not to obscure the Tree of Life. That’s what this garden is about in the first place. As St. Paul said, “Even if I speak in the language of the Angels, if I don’t have love, then I am no more than a banging gong or a clattering cymbal.” If we can’t love each other, it won’t matter whether we keep this ship afloat or not. Let us pray….
 
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord, have mercy. Amen.