“It’s a matter of life and death.” In countless books, movies and TV shows, dramatic tension is heightened when there is a matter of life and death. Lassie has to bring the news that Timmy fell it the well because it’s a matter of life and death. Luke has to defeat Darth Vader because it’s a matter of life and death. Princess Anna has to find Queen Elsa because it’s a matter of life and death. The stakes are raised to the limit when it’s a matter of life and death. Church, that applies to faith as well. Believing in God is not simply a nice thing to do, learning how to pray won’t merely make you a better person, obeying the commandments is not some kind of self-improvement program. The life of faith is not a hobby, a pastime, a luxury. It is a matter of life and death. According to the gospels, Jesus battles for life and against death. Jesus said that he came so that we would have life and have it to the full. Death is so horrible that Jesus wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. Faith is not an opinion, an option, a viewpoint among others. Faith is a struggle for our soul. We need faith as much as the air we breathe, the food we eat, the water we drink. We need faith more than we need a bank account, a job, a car. We need faith like we need to the sun to shine, the rain to fall and gravity to keep us from floating away. Faith is a matter of life and death.
We discover the importance of faith at those moments when life and death are vying against each other. Losing a loved one can produce a crisis of faith. Hearing news of catastrophic illness can prompt a renewal of faith. The birth of a longed-for child can inspire a resurgence of faith. The most crucial moments of life and death provoke a faith response. However, there’s faith and then there’s faith. Once upon a time a tight-rope walker strung his wire over Niagara Falls. “Do you think I can do this?” he asked the crowd. He jumped on the wire and walked over and back. Everyone applauded. He got a wheelbarrow and put in a 200 pound sack of sand. “Do you think I can do this with a wheelbarrow?” he asked. They were skeptical. Over and back he went with the wheelbarrow. The crowd went wild. “You can do anything,” they cried. “Okay,” said the tight-rope walker emptying the wheelbarrow of sand, “hop in.” We need the kind of faith that lets us hop into God’s wheelbarrow and trust that all will be well. The story of the raising of Lazarus in the eleventh chapter of St. John’s gospel illustrates characteristics of such a life-and-death faith.
First of all, notice that Martha has to grow in her faith. When she meets Jesus in the midst of her grief he consoles her by saying, “Your brother will rise.” “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” You can imagine Martha thinking, I’ve learned my catechism. I know the right answers. I have faith in what God will do in the bye-and-bye – but that isn’t helping me here and now in my life and death situation. Then Jesus answers, “I am the resurrection. I am the life.” Jesus invites Martha to have a faith which is not only an intellectual assent, not something she learned in a book, not a lesson repeated from Sunday School, but an encounter with him. Resurrection and life is not something out there, I am resurrection. Come to me. Life-and-death faith, then, is interpersonal. The kind of faith we need when confronting loss or illness or tragedy depends upon our personal encounter with Jesus. What made a difference in Martha’s life is that she had met Jesus, she listened to him, she came to know him. The same is true with us. Our faith must be based on a personal encounter with the Lord as well. For life-and-death faith it is not sufficient to know about Jesus, we must know Jesus.
A second observation: Jesus himself “became perturbed and deeply troubled… Jesus wept.” In other words, Jesus did not remain above it all, aloof from the emotions and feelings that swirled around the confrontation with death. He was touched by, he connected with, he related to the experience that Martha and Mary was going through. Jesus was not afraid to face what was going on inside of him even while he was supremely confident in the power of God at work. Life-and-death faith must, therefore, be human, be heart-felt, be impassioned. Such a faith interacts with the reality in which one finds oneself. When we have life-and-death faith we not only feel for someone, we feel with someone. That is why we must become church, live in community, work at unity. As church we form the foundation of a faith that companions us through life and death.
Finally, notice that in his confrontation with death at the tomb of Lazarus Jesus raised his eyes and prayed, “Father, thank you for hearing me. I know you always hear me.” Jesus could claim the victory even before Lazarus came out from the grave because of his confidence that God heard his petition. Life-and-death faith, therefore, trusts that God does heed whenever we call. We as a faith-filled people should not be reluctant to make intercession to God for our needs. We believe the word of the prophet Ezekiel in the Old Testament lesson: “I am the lord. I have promised. I will do it.” Because of faith we are not self-reliant, we are God-reliant. That is why all of the troubles of this world are not daunting to us. When personal problems, family difficulties, or world situations are more than we can handle we bring our intentions to the throne of grace with trust and confidence in God’s benevolence. We make intercession to God with a faith that will sustain us in life and triumph over death.
How do we cope with cancer and crime and grief and loneliness and depression and, let’s be honest, other people? Faith. What’s going to help your family to thrive? Faith. What helps you endure other people’s jive? Faith. What makes us glad to be alive? Faith. Do we need a giant-screened TV? Or an Acura Legend or Infinity? Do we need to be the life of the party? No, we need faith. Faith consoles the grieving and raises the dead. Faith dissolves all barriers to unity and peace. Faith helps us to hold out until our change comes. Faith is a matter of life and death.