The Fifth Sunday
of Lent (A)
Dear
brothers and sisters,
Martha
said to Jesus, “Lord, by now there will be a stench” (John 11:39). Her words
sound quite blunt to our sensitive ears in an age that attempts to disguise and
hide the stark reality of death. Most of the Fathers of the Church read her
words in the literal sense of Scripture and noted that they simply confirmed
the fact that Lazarus was indeed dead, should anyone have doubt. Saint
Augustine of Hippo, however, heard these words in a different sense.
Rather
than recognizing in Martha’s words the certainty of a physical death, the
Doctor of Grace recognized instead the certainty of a sinful man. “But whoever
has become habituated to sin,” he said, “is buried and has it properly said of
him, ‘he stinks.’ For his character, like some horrible smell, begins to be of
the worst repute.”[1]
So it is that we have before us today two stenches, and one is surely worse
than the other.
In
contrast to the stench of sin, we know that many of the saints had a certain
odor of sanctity about them. This was first noticed, so far as we know, with
Saint Polycarp, who smelled like frankincense as he was burned alive in the
year 155.[2] To
be sure, this odor of sanctity can be either physical or symbolic, as when we
say of someone, “She had the odor of sanctity about her.” Ideally, though, both
the physical and the symbolic would be true or any one of us who claim the name
of Christian.
We
can be certain that both the stench of sin and the scent of sanctity will be
revealed when the voice of the Lord at last resounds, not simply outside of Bethany
but throughout the entire cosmos, when Jesus commands: “…come out” (John 11:43)!
Yes, we, too, will come out of our tombs and stand before the Lord, or, more
properly, fall down before him and worship (cf. Matthew 2:11, Revelation 19:10).
When he calls us forth, will someone say of me, “By now there will be a stench”?
Will someone say of you, “She stinks”?
When
the Lord Christ summons us from our graves, will we be marked with the stench
of sin or with the scent of sanctity? We must ask ourselves, “Of what do I
smell today?,” because today may be our last. We cannot know, but that is no
reason to remain with a stench. If we notice someone keeping his or her
distance from us, do we not often ask in jest, “What? Do I smell?” If we
inquire about our physical odor in these earthly and passing occasions (even as
a joke), how much more should we inquire as to the scent of our souls!
It
is against the backdrop of this very question that today we pray to the Father,
asking that “we [may] walk eagerly in that same charity with which, out of love
for the world, your Son handed himself over to death.”[3] In
the end, when it comes down to it, sin is nothing more than a failure to love
authentically and fully, to love God in and through all things and to love our
neighbor in and through all things; sin is a lack of charity and those who are
without love, those whose souls are stained with sin, stink.
Following
this insight of Saint Augustine, it seems that the scent of sanctity did not
permeate Lazarus’ life, but rather the stench of sin. Perhaps, though, this is putting
things too strongly. At the very least, it seems that his own sister did not think
the scent of sanctity issued forth from him. Yet Jesus nonetheless counted
Lazarus among his friends and wept out of love for him (cf. John 11:35). In
this, there is hope for us, too! For if Lazarus remained a friend of Jesus
despite his sin, we, too, can also remain friends of Jesus!
If
we are honest, I daresay we all have about us the stench of sin more often than
we have about us the scent of sanctity, yet the Lord loves us anyway and weeps
for us when our sins bury us and we begin to stink. For this reason, we must
return frequently to the bath of confession to wash away our stench (an
opportunity available to us this afternoon at St. Peter’s). Here we arrive at
the intersection of these two senses of Martha’s words, because “nothing moves
a sinner to amend one’s defects and correct one’s sins as much as the knowledge
and memory of death.”[4]
You
and I will each die. There is no sense in denying it or hiding from it. For the
Christian, for the one who has already died with Christ Jesus in the waters of
Baptism; for the one who has eaten and drunk the Body and Blood of the Lord;
for the one who humbly confesses his sins and receives absolution, there is
nothing at all to fear in death. In death, we may close our eyes to this world,
but we will open them again to look upon the face of God Who says to us, “O my
people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them” (Ezekiel 37:12).
Even
today, the Lord Jesus calls out to us, “Come out! Come out of your selfishness!
Come out of your self-absorption! Come out of your sin! Come out of your death
and enter into my life!” But, you ask, “Why do I not hear Him calling me?” The
answer is simple: You have not quieted yourself or allowed yourself to be
still. The Lord calls us in the silence of our hearts, but if we are not still
and quiet, so many distractions drown out His voice.
Yes,
“The teacher is here and is asking for you” (John 11:28). Will you rise quickly
in your heart and go to Him (cf. John 11:29)? Will you speak plainly and
honestly to Him? Will you humble yourself before Him in love and allow Him to
wash away the stench of your sin?
If
you do, you will learn that He is indeed the Resurrection and the Life (cf.
John 11:25). Today, let us return to the Lord that the stench of our sin and
may be changed to the scent of his holiness. Thus, we shall know his “mercy and
the fullness of redemption” and our hearts will be finally at peace (Psalm
130:7)! Amen.
[1] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 49.3.
In Ancient Christian Commentary on
Scripture: New Testament Vol. IVb: John 11-21. Thomas C. Oden, et al, eds. (Downers Grove, Illinois:
Inter Varsity Press, 2007), 26.
[2] The Martyrdom of Polycarp,15.
[3] Roman Missal, Collect for the Fifth Sunday of Lent.
[4] Saint Bonaventure, Sermon 38: Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost,
12. In Works of St. Bonaventure, Vol.
XII: The Sunday Sermons of St. Bonaventure, Timothy J. Johnson, ed. (Saint
Bonaventure, New York: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2008), 416.
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