A homily for the Fifth Sunday of Lent (Scrutinies), March 17, 2024
Ez 37:12-14, Rom 8:8-11, Jn 11:1-45
Mom died in the hospital on Easter morning 1987 in the middle of telling her roommate a joke. The roommate said Mom headed to Heaven right before she delivered the punchline.
Yeah, telling jokes was more my father’s thing.
Julia Marie McCosker Zapcic was a month shy of her 58th birthday. She left behind a husband, six sons and several (forgive me; I forget how many at that time) daughters-in-law. She never met some of my brothers’ wives, nor did she get to play with 12 of her 14 grandchildren. Mom knew only my two now-grown offspring.
Our family often wondered what else she never had the chance to do.
What if …
We all wonder sometimes. All of us.
Today, as we hear the Gospel of John, we wonder: What if Lazarus hadn’t fallen ill? What if Jesus had arrived sooner? What if Lazarus healed on his own? What if Jesus hadn’t raised him from the dead?
The story of Lazarus, like so many of our own, invites thoughts of alternative scenarios and their consequences and conclusions. Of paths taken or not taken. Of work done or left undone. Of myriad what-ifs.
The story of Lazarus is rich and powerful. It’s a story of love for The Family We Choose, the important people who join us on our journey through life, who offer us support freely and who accept ours gladly.
The story of Lazarus — celebrated as a feast day in some Christian traditions — includes perhaps the most profound phrase in all of the Gospels:
“Jesus wept.”
As do we all whenever a loved one leaves this Earth. Or even when a loved one simply leaves our sight. Just watch parents dropping off college freshmen for the first time, or anyone at the departure area of an airport or train station. Separation can lead to mourning.
Death or separation often comes like a car’s screeching halt, when everything in the vehicle goes flying toward the windshield and the back of our heads. If we stop in time, thank God, we’re hyperventilating, checking on our passengers, and looking at the mess we’ll have to clean up at some point. If we don’t stop in time, then there’s a crash to deal with, and every dreadful thing that entails.
And we’re flooded with what-ifs.
The Gospels don’t give us a full accounting of the life of Lazarus before Jesus called him out of the tomb, nor do they detail how he lived the rest of his extended life. We know he and Martha and Mary were disciples, that they were followers and friends of Jesus who deeply believed in his divinity and in the Law of Love that would lead them to Heaven.
We can surmise that they used the revival of Lazarus to evangelize. How could anyone doubt the power of Emmanuel once they met a man brought back from the dead?
Jesus gave Lazarus a massive dramatic second chance when he restored his friend’s earthly life.
Jesus gives us second chances, too, as well as many first chances. None that we know of are massively dramatic à la Laz.
Do we recognize them? And if we recognize them, do we make the best of them?
We believe that the salvation Jesus brought to the world is strengthened and renewed when we ask God for forgiveness through the Sacrament of Reconciliation and try our best to stay on the Right Path. That’s a second chance we can avail ourselves of often, and especially during this holy season of Lent.
Meanwhile, God showers us with everyday second chances every day.
Yes, we get secular second chances all the time. We can reapply for a job, perhaps one we turned down the first time it was offered. We can forgive and be forgiven. We can rebuild relationships.
We can get it right — whatever “it” may be — the second (or third or fourth…) time around.
Better yet, however, is when we pause, breathe, think and consider, and then pray for guidance whenever we get a first chance. An all-important first chance. A first chance that never should be wasted.
A chance to make a great first impression.
A chance to use our God-given time and talents and skills and personalities to leave the world better than we found it. To uplift our sisters and brothers. To become the best selves God wants us to be. To live the Gospel unfailingly and unceasingly.
A chance to tell a joke all the way to the punchline. And tell it well.
Because we may not get a second chance.
