Sermon – Taxes Are Easier
Genesis 37:29-35; John 11:28-38
3/22/26
You might well imagine that I was distressed to learn that Pete Smith has died. Yes, you heard my strange statement correctly. Let me explain: Pete Smith was a founding and leading presence in the surfing scene out in VA Beach and had a surf shop aptly named Pete Smith’s Surf Shop. For someone that I never met, he has been in my life since the 1980s when I was in high school and people would ask me if we were related. It feels surreal now how that Pete Smith would pop up in the life of this Pete Smith from time to time. I’m 99.9% certain no one ever asked him if he and I were related, still every once in a while, our lives would again connect without actually connecting. People who knew him thought a great deal of him – so much so that just meeting another Pete Smith (me) made them think of him. That says a lot about that Pete Smith that people remember him so fondly. It seems clear that he will be missed. I will have to do my best to carry on the mantle, but I doubt I will be able to live up to his example. What I do know is that people are grieving his death.
In case you have not picked up on this, I am working on things that cause us grief and sorrow through this season of Lent. Yes, I know that is not very cheery, but life is also not very cheery sometimes, and when we do face those times, it is good to remember that sorrow and grief are not the last word. Lent is a time when we especially appreciate what is more tough, more difficult, and more troubling. We appreciate what Jesus underwent for us and the road he walked in faith and love to the cross, the cross that led to his own death.
Death is hard, one of the hardest things. Ben Franklin is the one who pointed out the inevitability of death along with taxes, but taxes are easier. I say that even after doing our own taxes in the last couple of weeks and discovering a huge discrepancy that will require me selling a kidney, but that is another story. It will always be easier to deal with taxes, even if both seem to be necessary parts of our lives.
When I planned this sermon series, I had no way of knowing that today would be sandwiched between two funeral services – Kay Whitfield last weekend and Angie Coppedge Monday. In my six years here, I have done my share of funerals, and they have all been meaningful to me which means none of them have been easy. A number of you hearing this or reading these words are directly connected to what I am saying. Even for those who are longest lived among us, it still hurts because those who remain are forced to live a future here without them. There could have been one more year, even one more season that we could have spent together. That is really where death becomes harsh for us. We are the ones who miss out. We are the ones who must live with loss. While we would never want our loved ones to suffer the pain of lingering disease, injury, or weakness, we would rather face at least a few more struggles with them rather than without them.
Dreams for a future are exactly what is going on in the passage from Genesis. In fact, that is what Joseph’s brothers are literally trying to AVOID. They are sick and tired of Joseph being treated so special that he even has multiple dreams of his lordship over them, AND JOSEPH TELLS HIS FAMILY. That’s what I have such a hard time getting my mind around. How could Joseph have thought that it was a good idea to rub it in. Even if he was not trying to be ugly about it, it would certainly not endear him to his brothers or parents. Everyone got upset with him, but it was his brothers who did their best to strangle the dream before it ever could happen – kill the dream by killing the man. What I wanted to dwell in today in the sorrow that pours out of Jacob when he finds out his precious Joseph is supposedly dead. His brothers do not really care terribly about Joseph. Their relationship is never all that great, even after they eventually meet, again, but no one feels that death like Jacob. Of course, Joseph certainly feels the death of his life back home, also. His dreamed future with his family was taken from him, and Joseph never ever returns.
We are supposed to feel that pain with such loss. It is normal and natural. As relational creatures, we develop long-term attachments with others. We learn to count on others for safety and provision, companionship and love. Our survival gets tied to others, but others also make us happy. The very wiring of our brains gets oriented around others as we develop a habitual life with those who are special to us. Our very identity is shaped by our connections to those in our lives. Even when it seems very appropriate to have to say goodbye to someone in death, it still causes us grief. And even when we can rejoice that someone is freed from the struggle, we also mourn their absence.
When Mary and Martha were gravely concerned about their dear brother Lazarus, they sent desperate word to Jesus, “Come NOW before it is too late!” Jesus, of course, did not come until it was too late for a normal healing story. Jesus needed to take us into the very tomb to see that even in the deepest and worst of human sorrow, there is still an answer in the love of God. It is not clear in the text what happens to us after our own deaths, but it is clear that death hurts, even if there is wonderful and glorious life waiting for us. Apparently, it hurts even if you know full well that you are about to bring that person back to life, again. The outpouring of sorrow for his friend Lazarus brings Jesus to tears so much so that the text points out that people marveled over this. Some want to argue this is Jesus mourning his own death coming within a week, but that does a disservice to his own actual affection for Lazarus. Mary and Martha, especially Mary, brought Jesus into feeling their pain. This is the hardest of human conditions to hold.
This is also the one that God most wants to answer. The finality of death has always stood as the unavoidable destination. We have a Bible that even argues that for those who are in Christ, death is nothing. We do not even die, not really. We know, however, that the comfort from those words is well and good, but it still hurts when it happens.
I imagine it would hurt worse if we did not hope to see our loved ones again. It must be a consolation that we will be reunited, and there are people waiting out there in the great beyond that I would like to see, again. I know it would hurt worse if there were nothing, and our relationships ended completely with death, but Jesus comes to us in this very gospel being the one who was with God in creation and through whom everything was created. He is the bread of life, living water, and one who gives eternal life. Jesus in John’s Gospel is the way, the truth, and the life, preparing a place for us to eventually have a home together one day. There is no ambiguity in his thoughts. He is our life now and forever. The heart of the gospel message is that we are given life, special and holy life, now and for all time. In case there is any doubt or fear or hesitation in believing Jesus’ claim, his love for us all is greater than death which cannot even hold him down – let alone his good friend Lazarus.
But we are not to Easter, yet. We are not to the resurrection, yet. We are feeling the weight of a world that is wracked by death and the sorrow of death. We have even become numb to the vastness of this sorrow. Wars drag on, violence persists in schools, deadly diseases are making a comeback, widespread drug use has shortened our average life expectancy, and we let so much of it go in one ear and out the other, not because we are uncaring but because we care too much. It is too hard to carry it all.
For now, we do our best in the assurance that death is a time of true loss, but it is not a loss that we bear alone. It is also not a loss that defines us. In Christ, we can bear that sorrow with hope, grace, and love, just as Jesus himself shared there near his dead friend. I am grateful to have a God who understands our pain and is willing to suffer with us. Until the time of our resurrected joy, Jesus holds us in our grief.
To God be the glory. Amen.