I'm Calling You Out!

My friend Marv’s jokes included sweet sacrilege, to wit Sunday’s Gospel.

"Lazarus, come forth!" Jesus calls into the now opened tomb where his friend has been buried.

There is no response.

Jesus repeats, a bit louder, “Lazarus, come forth!”

Again, there is no response.

Finally, Jesus says, “Lazarus, are you in there?”

Lazarus replies, “Yes, Lord.”

Jesus: “Then why didn’t you come out?”

Lazarus: “You said that I should come fourth; I’m waiting for the first three!” (rim shot.)

We laugh, but there’s truth in this.  Don’t most of us find it more comfortable to stay in our caves?  I mean our rooms, or our houses, but I essentially mean behind the walls that we have built up that keep life outside.

For thirty years we lived in a little house that looked out on a front porch that was just four feet from the sidewalk.  The sidewalk had been poured in 1928, evidenced by the brand that had been set into every fourth or fifth section: “Gentile 1928.”  The sidewalks that lined the narrow street provided playground, meeting hall, city square and, once a year, ice cream parlor.  Our inner spaces could be small because the sidewalks and street were part of our homes.

For ten years we lived at a Retreat House that was nestled in a neighborhood of huge houses, inner spaces that attempted to slake the thirst for openness.  We rarely saw neighbors, even children.  They had all they thought they needed inside.  We saw clues to their lives on trash day, large cardboard boxes that had held large-screen televisions, exercise equipment, and furniture.

But I know that my pointing a finger at those in McMansions belies my own truth.  I often choose to stay in my own cave, not only socially, but spiritually too.  I choose to hide in the shelter of the comfortable life I’ve built around myself.  

And Jesus is saying “I’m calling you out!”  That’s a current phrase that means “You’re busted!”  Or, as we used to say “I’ve got your number” or “Who do you think you’re fooling?” What is the “life” to which we are being called, not just in the seasonal Scriptures but in morning robin song and blooming crocuses?  What is the “death” in which we choose to remain?  Why do we remain?

Today is my brother Dan’s birthday.  He would have been 66.  He chose to stay in his room.  We didn’t call him out.