On this Sunday when we celebrate All Saints Day, I am keenly aware that we are living in the distance between Mary's words, "Lord if you had been here," and Jesus' words "Unbind him, and let him go."
 
All Saints is such an odd sort of celebration.  It is a day when we honor and remember those who have died.  We celebrate their presence in heaven and remember all of the wonderful things they shared with us while they were alive.  On one level there is much to be joyful about, the gift of life that gave us time with these people, the gift of everlasting life which exists for each of them, and each of us with God.
 
I cannot help but feel we are about one gift short, about one step away from realizing God's plan for wholeness and the realization of divine reign.  We have been promised that one day we will all celebrate together in heaven free from all that separates us from those we love, free from all that breaks and bruises us in this life.  But right now we are bound by the chains of time.  We are forced to live in the time before God makes everything right in the world.  We understand Mary's anguished plea to Jesus  "Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died."  We have been promised that in the end God will make everything right.  Unfortunately the end always appears to be beyond our reach.  Promises for the future do not always take away the pain of the right now.  We miss our loved ones who have died.  We want the reunions now, we want the wholeness now.  Sometimes we feel the frustration, the pain, and the anger, and we want to lash out at our God who has the power to make things right but appears to be busy at the moment with other errands.  At times we may even feel like one of those two year olds in the supermarket checkout, stamping our feet and crying, the candy is right there, our Mom or Dad has the power to give it to us and we are told there will be no candy now.
 
Of course it is not something as simple as candy for which we are yearning.  We are in quest of recapturing connections to those we have lost. We miss those who have brought the deepest meaning to our lives.  Fortunately we are not always in our two year old mode and we learn how to miss those we love, cherish our memories, trust that they are safely in God's hands and find ways to go on with our lives.  But none of it is easy or fun.  Acceptance may be a sign of maturity and even a stepping stone to deep peace
but it does not make anyone's top ten list of entertaining activities.

In this morning's scripture reading, Lazarus may be the one who is obviously bound in his burial wrapping, but Mary is bound as well, and so are we.  We are bound by a mortality that guarantees we will be separated from our loved ones in this earthly life; bound by the limits placed upon our time together; bound by fears of loss;  bound by grief.
 
When Jesus calls for the stone of the tomb to be rolled away, Mary's sister Martha questions this strange act. Jesus responds by saying "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?"  He proceeds to call Lazarus out of the tomb and beckons for his bonds to be removed.  In this reality shaking example Jesus demonstrates his power over the chains of death by bringing his friend back to life.  A gift he will later offer all of humanity in his own death and resurrection.
 
On this day we celebrate that Jesus has defeated death for us all.  We celebrate that our loved ones who have died have been freed from the bonds of their mortality to receive eternal life.  We give thanks that those who have gone before us who now make their home in God.  On this day, we seek to believe this amazing promise that we too might catch a glimpse of the glory of God.  On this day we too are offered freedom from the bonds of life's losses and limitations.  We are being called out from the cave of our grief and our fears to look out to the horizon when we will all gather together at this table. We will join in the feast, parents and grand parents long gone, sitting side by side, reunited loved ones passing their favorite foods one to another.  All around the table will be free from the pains of this life, free to love and laugh and celebrate together in a joy so wide and so deep as to be immeasurable.  Just for a moment let us reach beyond the distance between "Lord if you had only been here..." and "Unbind him" and seize the promise. Let us let go of the doubts we carry that burden and weigh us down and let us have our belief carry us above it all to the smallest taste of eternity, the tiniest glimpse of the glory of God.
 
Let us unbind our hearts, even if for just a moment, that they may dance with the power and freedom of our dancers this morning.  Let us revel in the gifts of eternity and unity with all of those we love.  Let us leap and believe, right here and right now leaving our doubts below us on the ground for another day.  Let us slip off the constraints of our waiting and peek on tiptoe over the walls of this world to the world to come.  Let us gather around the table and raise a toast to those who have died.  In the words of our Bidding prayer on Christmas Eve, "Let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore, and in a greater light, that multitude which no one can number, whose hope was in the word made flesh, and with whom the Lord Jesus we are one forevermore."

Amen.