Day: March 20, 2023

Flesh and bones, spirit and life (Ezek 37, Psalm 130, Rom 8, John 11, Lent 5A)

On the Fifth Sunday in Lent, the scripture passages offered by the lectionary revolve around a central theme: life in contrast to death. It’s not every Sunday that all four passages line up to provide a clear and obvious focus on a single theme. For more than half of the Sundays in the year, the Hebrew Scripture, Epistle, and Gospel each follow their own course, and any overlap of theme is accidental, not planned. For Sundays in Advent, Christmas, and Lent, as well as key days like Pentecost, Trinity, and the Reign of Christ, the thematic overlap is intentional. This week we have just such a Sunday!

Death is at the heart of the story of Lazarus that forms the Gospel passage for Sunday (John 11:1–45). Initially, Jesus is told “he whom you love is ill” (John 11:3), but when he arrives in Bethany, Martha accosts him with “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (11:21)—an accusation repeated by her sister Mary (11:31); and then comes a graphic description provided by Martha as they draw near to the tomb: “already there is a stench because he has been dead four days” (11:39).

The emergence of Lazarus from the tomb marks a climactic moment, for the family in Bethany and many of their neighbours (11:44–45), but also for the chief priests and Pharisees, who together determine to put Jesus to death (11:53). The seventh sign recounted in this Gospel is the most significant miracle of Jesus, but also the deed that determines the fate of Jesus. Soon after this event in Bethany, he says, “I have come to this hour” (12:27), the hour when “I am lifted up from the earth, [when I] will draw all people to myself” (12:32), the hour when the Father will “glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you” (17:1). The death of Jesus is to be, paradoxically, the complete fulfilment of his mission (19:30)—the pathway into life eternal (3:16; 10:28; 17:3).

This climactic movement, of death moving to life in Bethany, resonates with the words of the prophet Ezekiel and also the writings of the apostle Paul that are offered for this coming Sunday. Ezekiel confronts the signs of death: “The Lord set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry” (Ezek 37:1–2). Paul considers the state of humanity: “to set the mind on the flesh is death … the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law—indeed it cannot, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God” (Rom 8:6–8).

So, death is in view in these three readings. It is no wonder that the psalm we are offered alongside them speaks a cry of deep despair: “out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord” (Ps 130:1). The depths of the earth were the place where sinful people went (Ps 63:9; Isa 14:15), following the lead of the Egyptians who pursued the Israelites and “went down into the depths like a stone” (Exod 5:4–5; Neh 9:11; Isa 63:11–13). There, in the depths, God’s anger burned (Deut 32:22).

However, those banished to the depths were able to be brought back from the depths by God’s decree (Ps 68:22; 71:20; 86:13), so the cry of the psalmist from the depths is followed by the plea, “Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!” (Ps 103:2). As the prophet Micah affirms, God’s steadfast love will rescue those who “lick dust like a snake,

like the crawling things of the earth”, and will indeed “cast all our sins into the depths of the sea” (Mic 7:17, 19). So the psalmist affirms, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope” (Ps 103:5).

Just as Lazarus emerges from the tomb where his dead body was laid, so Ezekiel foresees a wondrous revival amongst the dead bones of the people of Israel: “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act,” says the Lord” (Ezek 37:11). The vision he sees emac s that dramatically. Likewise, Paul glimpses that same hope: “if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you” (Rom 8:11).

Both prophet and apostle hold to the hope enacted in the Gospel and articulated by the psalmist: “Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem. It is he who will redeem Israel from all its iniquities” (Ps 103:7–8).

*****

Ezekiel was both a prophet and a priest (Ezek 1:3). He had been exiled to Babylon during the siege of Jerusalem by King Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon (599 BCE; see 2 Kings 24:10–17). His prophetic activity was thus undertaken entirely in exile. He addresses both those in exile with him in Babylon, and also those left behind in Judah. His prophecies continue through the period when the people in Judah were conquered and taken to join Ezekiel in exile (587 BCE; see 2 Ki 25:1–21), and then for some time after that.

A dramatic vision opens the book, in which “the glory of God” appears in the form of a fiery, flaming chariot (1:4–28). Priestly attention to detail marks the account of this vision, whilst contains multiple allusions to other scriptural stories. The bright cloud and flashing fire evokes the scene on Mount Sinai, when God gave Moses the Law (Exod 19:16–19); the “burning coals of fire” (1:13) remind us of the burning coals in the scene of the call of Isaiah (Isa 6:6); and “the bow in the cloud on a rainy day” evokes the sign of the covenant made with Noah (Gen 9:12–17). In seeing this vision, Ezekiel has had a life-transforming experience!

Ezekiel is impelled to play his role as a prophet by “the hand of the Lord” (1:3; 3:22; 8:1; etc); indeed, he says, “the spirit lifted me up” (3:12). That same spirit continues to lift him up with regularity (8:3; 11:1, 24; 37:1; 43:5) to show him vision after vision. More than this, Ezekiel declares that “the spirit entered me” (3:24), a process which he promises will be experienced by Israel as a whole (36:26–28)—for the Lord says he will “pour out my spirit upon the house of Israel” (39:29).

This emphasis on the renewing spirit of God is seen, most dramatically, by Ezekiel when he is taken by the spirit into “the middle of a valley … full of bones” (37:1) and sees a vision that he conveys in what must be his most famous oracle. What Ezekiel sees in this valley of dry bones is the work of God, as God puts sinews and flesh and skin on the bones, and breathes into the bodies so created, so that they live (37:5–6, 8, 10).

The vision indicates what God will do: “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil” (37:14). The end of the exile, it seems, is in sight. This passage is often interpreted in a Christian context as a pointer both to the resurrection of Jesus, and also to the general resurrection; indeed, its appearance on the Fifth Sunday in Lent means that it complements, and indeed illuminates, the dramatic story of Jesus bringing Lazarus back to life, as he approaches the tomb, and cries in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:38–44).

For Ezekiel, however, this vision is not a far-into-the-future prediction (foretelling), but a word of hope to the people in their immediate situation (forthtelling). Indeed, the very next section of this chapter reports a proclamation of Ezekiel which is quite directly forthtelling. The two sticks that he takes (37:16) stand for Judah and Israel; as he joins the sticks, so he points to the return of these peoples from their exile, their return “to their own land”, and a cleansing which will mean “they shall be my people, and I will be their God” (37:21–23, 27).

That final phrase is a common covenantal affirmation made by God (Lev 26:12; Ruth 1:16; Jer 7:23; 11:4; 24:7; 30:22; 31:1, 33; 32:38; Ezek 11:20; 14:11; 36:28; Zech 2:11; and Hos 1:10–11, overturning Hos 1:9). The reunited people shall have one king (37:24) and they will observe “an everlasting covenant” (37:26).

So the dramatic story that the prophet Ezekiel reports from his vision set in the middle of a valley full of dry bones is intended to speak directly into the life of the covenant people of God, the people of Israel, offering them hope despite their current circumstances.

*****

Paul also was commissioned for his task through a vision—reported in graphic terms by Luke, who makes the moment into a grand call-and-commissioning scene (Acts 9:3–8; 22:6–11; 26:12–18), but mentioned only briefly, in general terms, in passing by Paul himself (1 Cor 9:1; and perhaps Gal 1:1, 12). Of course, Luke was not present for this event, so he shaped in along the lines of classic call-and-commissioning narratives that existed in earlier Jewish writings. (I have explored this in detail in my commentary on Acts in the Eerdman’s Commentary on the Bible, 2003).

That vision turned Paul from persecutor of the followers of Jesus to an apostle fervently declaring “the good news of Jesus Christ” as far as possible, “from Jerusalem and as far around as Illyricum” (Rom 15:19). (Illyricum was a Roman province that covered the coastal area of the Balkans, northwest of Macedonia stretching towards Italy.) Paul delivers this good news in person to many communities, but he sets it out at length in his letter to believers in Rome, which he had not yet visited.

Paul is embued with the same hope that the psalmist and the prophet demonstrate. He rejoices with the Thessalonians that they share with him in “hope in our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thess 1:3), tells the Galatians that “through the Spirit, by faith, we eagerly waits for the hope of righteousness” (Gal 5:5), and reminds the Corinthians that “faith, hope and love abide” (1 Cor 13:13). In a subsequent letter to believers in Corinth, he asserts that “he who rescued us from so deadly a peril will continue to secure us; on him we have set our hope that he will rescue us again” (2 Cor 1:10)

Paul reports to the Romans that “we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God” (Rom 4:2) and that it is “in hope that we were saved” (Rom 8:24). He affirms that it is “by steadfastness and the encouragement of the scriptures, we might have hope” (Rom 15:4), notes that scripture promises that “the root of Jesses shall come … in him the Gentiles shall hope” (Rom 15:12), and so characterises God as “the God of hope” (Rom 15:13). He shares in that strong hope which is sung by the psalmist and spoken by the prophet, and which is acted out in the Gospel reading for this Sunday.

Cuthbert: monk, prior, bishop, hermit, miracle-worker, and saint (20 March)

In the Uniting Church’s resource provided for worship leaders, Uniting in Worship, there is a Calendar of Commemorations, based on the cycle of annual feast days for saints in the Anglican, Catholic, and Orthodox churches—but broadened out to be much wider than this. Many days of the year are designated to remember specific people. Today (20 March) is the day to remember three Celtic pioneers, Cuthbert, Aidan, and Bede. Cuthbert of Lindisfarne is remembered as monk, prior, bishop, hermit, and miracle-worker—and, eventually, as saint.

Born in Northumbria into a noble family in the mid-630s, Cuthbert was raised in a Christian society, as King Edwin of Northumbria had recently converted to Christianity and (as was the way) brought that faith across the society. Accounts of the life of Cuthbert, written in the later medieval period, claim that there were miracles taking place even in his childhood. The historicity of these claims is highly dubious.

We do know that Cuthbert had quite a career: he was, in turn, monk, prior, bishop, and hermit, before his death. Matching the miracles claimed during his childhood and into his adult life, there are many claims of multiple miracles which allegedly took place after the death of Cuthbert on 20 March 687.

We can’t, of course, substantiate those miracles—the most striking of which relates to Alfred the Great, King of Wessex, further to the south (Wessex was the southernmost part of the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom). Alfred was apparently inspired by a vision of Cuthbert, encouraging in his struggles against the invading Danes. (A saint supporting military action … hmmmm.) He won, of course! The fact that a southern king admired a northern cleric meant that Cuthbert came to be regarded as a focus of reconciliation across the kingdom.

We do know that the body of Cuthbert, originally buried at Lindisfarne on the day that died, was removed and placed into a decorated oak coffin, and reburied in 698. The eleven-year-old corpse was, it was claimed, completely preserved-the first of the post-mortem miracles associated with Cuthbert. We know this from the 8th century account of Cuthbert written by the Venerable Bede, a scholar-monk at Jarrow, who wrote extensively covering science, history, biography, scriptural commentaries, and theology. (Bede is also remembered today in the UCA Calendar of Commemorations.)

Three centuries after his reburial at Lindisfarne, the body of Cuthbert was taken by wagon to Durham, where it was buried again. However, before that, it had been exhumed when Danes overtook the monastery at Lindisfarne in 875, and taken by the monks with them as they wandered the northern countryside. It is now located in Durham Cathedral, where it is said that it is buried (bizzarely) with the head of Oswald, King of Northumbria, who died some decades before Cuthbert’s life.

The life of Cuthbert included various phases. Although raised in a noble household, Cuthbert was attracted to the ascetic life. He had a period of military life, but then in 651 he joined the monastery at Melrose Abbey, an offshoot of Lindisfarne Priory, where Boisil was Prior. Lindisfarne had been founded in 634 by Aidan (who is also remembered today in the UCA Calendar of Commemorations). When Boisil died in 661, Cuthbert was appointed as Prior. He was subsequently invited to become guest master at a new monastery at Ripon, but soon he returned to Melrose as a monk. He became Prior once again in 664.

Cuthbert participated in the Synod of Whitby in that year; this was the Synod that decided to leave behind the Celtic form of Christianity that had been prevalent in much of Northumbria, led from the Abbey at Iona. The specific issue was the way that the date of Easter was calculated. The Synod adopted the Roman custom of dating, and looked to Rome, rather than Iona, for leadership. Cuthbert adhered to this decision and introduced Roman practices at Lindisfarne, where he became Prior in 665, the year after the Synod of Whitby.

Cuthbert continued his ascetic lifestyle as Prior through the ensuing decades, preaching as he travelled through towns and villages; it is said that he preached also to nobles and to royalty, and also that he performed various miracles during this period, as a result of which he later became known as “the wonder worker of Britain”. He maintained his simple lifestyle, with few material needs, as he travelled, and on into the next phases of his life.

Cuthbert moved to what today is called St Cuthbert’s Island, near Lindisfarne, and then soon after to Inner Farne Island, further south, wher he established his abode in a cell in a cave. Elizabeth and I have visited the Farne Islands, as well as Lindisfarne. The northeast coast of Britain is exposed to strong, icy winds blowing across from the Arctic; “living rough”, as we might describe the conditions of Cuthbert’s life, required a strong constitution and a determined mindset. Cuthbert obviously had this.

On this island, Cuthbert befriended the eider ducks and instituted laws to protect the ducks and other seabirds that made their nests on the Farne Islands. As well as his strong environmental credentials, for which we give thanks, Cuthbert is also remembered for his strong misogynistic attitude, for which we lament.

At the west end of Durham Cathedral, a thick black line, made of marble, has been inserted into the flooring. The line (still visible when we were there in 1997) marked the furthest into the Cathedral that women were permitted to step. The reason for this was the belief that Cuthbert would be offended if women came too close to him. This was deduced on the basis of the rules that he introduced in the monastery at Coldingham, where the “improper familiarity” of monks and nuns led to the monastery being consumed by fire—a result interpreted as an act of God!

When Bishop, Cuthbert ensured that there was rigorous separation of the genders in all places where monks and nuns lived throughout the diocese. This meant that women (nuns) were unable to visit the holy sites at Lindisfarne, Inner Farne, and Durham Cathedral. Subsequent to his earthly life, Cuthbert was believed to have acted to punish females who transgressed relevant boundaries—some struck dead, one other driven to dementia and killing herself. And that is the basis for the story (fact? or fiction?) about the line in the floor at Durham Cathedral.

Cuthbert was elected as Bishop of Hexham in 684, but was reluctant to leave his hermit’s cave; he was persuaded to take up the appointment as Bishop of Lindisfarne instead. He was consecrated in March 685 but late the next year, he resigned from his episcopal office and returned to his hermitage. This short tenure as Bishop of Lindisfarne explains why he is remembered as “Cuthbert of Lindisfarne”. He died two decades later, in March 687, aged in his mid 50s.

As already noted, numerous miracles after the death of Cuthbert are attributed to his intercessory powers; accordingly, he is honoured as a Saint. He became closely associated with the powerful Bishop of Durham from the 11th century onwards; the people of the region were known as “the people of the saint” (that is, Cuthbert). In the Battle of Neville’s Cross (just up the hill from where we lived in Durham in 1997), a vision of the saint inspired the Prior of Durham Abbey to raise the banner of Cuthbert, thereby ensuring their protection and victory in that battle.

That same banner was carried by Northumbrians in their battles against the Scots, and the shrine of Cuthbert behind the altar in Durham Cathedral (where the body was interred in 1104) was a pilgrimage site through the medieval period (for males—but not, as explained, for females).

So, to the above list—Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, monk, prior, bishop, hermit, miracle-worker, and saint—we add environmentalist, and misogynist. And we remember him, today.

The resting place of Cuthbert in Durham Cathedral