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A neuro-surgeon and an obstetrician were having coffee together in the hospital cafeteria. They began to philosophize over the fact that one of them was constantly involved in near-death situations while the other was constantly involved in new-life situations. This led to a discussion of reincarnation. The surgeon said he didn't believe in it. The obstetrician said, "If I am destined to come back into this world again, and if I have a choice, I'm going to be a perpetual baby." He then explained:
Why is it that everyone refers to a baby as a helpless little thing? Give a baby a home of his own, and he is the least helpless person in it. All he needs to do to have his every want filled is to let out one small peep. If help doesn't come at once, he need only extend the peep into a wail. And if the wail gets loud enough, he can throw the entire household into a tailspin from which it might not recover for days.
He can't walk, so he can just lie in bed all day and kick his legs and be the envy of every adult who sees him. He can't talk, so he need never answer embarrassing questions, or become involved in any kind of controversy, or give advice. Instead of politely tolerating an insufferable bore, he can turn his head the other way, yawn, go to sleep and have such actions approved by polite society. He doesn't have to worry about what he's going to eat for lunch or what he's going to wear. In fact, if he doesn't wear a single stitch he is perfectly content and no one will raise an eyebrow.
If he doesn't like his dinner, he can spit, blow or bubble it out no matter who is watching. And everyone within hearing distance is ecstatic when they hear him belch.
Helpless? He can cause the meanest person in the world to chuck him under the chin, he can inspire poets to eulogize him, and he can get just about everybody to adore him. So that's the life for me! I'd be a baby again, not a baby who grows up, but a perpetual baby.
A new life in which you can fulfill all your needs and wants just by letting out a peep--sounds attractive, doesn't it? It also sounds crazy--unreal. Yet Jesus tells us that we need only to ask and we will receive, knock and the door to all our needs will be opened for us, seek and we will find. And, in today's Gospel Lesson He says, "He who comes to Me shall not hunger, and he who believes in Me shall not thirst" (Jn. 6:35). Anyone who takes these words seriously is well on his or her way toward possessing the key to the deepest possible human insight into the mystery of life itself. The good doctor's "perpetual baby" fantasy to the contrary notwithstanding, we do grow up to hunger and thirst for some word concerning our own worthwhileness. We do grow up to hunger and thirst for the appearance of a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel of pain and death. We do grow up to hunger and thirst for means of unlocking the door to the mystery of the "Why?" of it all. And, in today's Gospel Scripture, we are given the key -- "known only to the saints and children," someone has said. And the key is: "We need Jesus."
Today's Gospel episode takes place on the day following Jesus' miraculous feeding of a crowd of thousands even though he only had a couple of fish and a few loaves of bread. When Jesus did that, the people were so turned on they wanted to make Him king. Seeing this, Jesus withdrew from the crowd. But the people pursued Him, and when they found Him, Jesus said to them,
You seek Me because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life...My Father gives you the true Bread from heaven. For the Bread of God is that which comes down from heaven, and gives life to the world (Jn. 6:26,27, 32-33).
Hearing this, the people said to Him, "Lord, give us this Bread of Life." And Jesus said to them,
I am the Bread of Life; he who comes to Me shall not hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst (Jn. 6:35).
Eugene O'Neill wrote a wonderful play called "Lazarus Laughed." The play begins with Lazarus being raised from the dead by Jesus, as in the Bible story. People have gathered at Lazarus' home in Bethany for what they thought was going to be a funeral. They had come to mourn. But now, Lazarus has been raised from the dead and the grieving has been transformed into rejoicing. And then came the questions: "What did you see during those four days when you were dead? What was it like--the life beyond?" In the midst of it all, Lazarus' father proposes a toast: "To my son, Lazarus, whom a blessed miracle has brought back from death!" Hearing this, Lazarus says, "No! There is no death!" And the people, holding their wine goblets in midair all echo his words as a question: "There is no death?" And Lazarus laughs, and he says happily,
There is only life! I heard the heart of Jesus laughing in my heart. "There is only eternal life," it said. "And my heart, reborn to love of life, cried "Yes!" And I laughed in the laughter of God. Laugh, laugh with me! Death is dead! Fear is no more! There is only life!
O'Neill's play isn't meant to be a fantasy that physical death isn't real. Rather, it is about a death of the spirit, a death of the will, a death of the mind and heart, a souring on life. And Lazarus, as the play's Christ-figure, goes among the people to affirm life: physical death has no dominion over the reality of the goodness and worthwhileness and purposefulness of the life God has given to us.
Sometimes we feel like prisoners of the world, looking out at a situation which we can't figure out. We all experience that feeling at times but, praise God, when it threatens to overwhelm us, there is Jesus saying, "Hang in there! I will satisfy your hunger and quench your thirst for the truth that will make you free. I will teach you to laugh the laughter of God with Me."
You may be mourning the death of a loved one. You may be mourning your deteriorating health. You may be mourning an estrangement from a son or daughter or spouse or parent. You may be mourning the lack of certain material resources you think you can't do without. You may be mourning, simply, what you feel to be a lackluster, hum-drum existence.
The Thirteenth Psalm was written by a man who had mourned a great deal: he had serious health problems and he had suffered much unfair treatment by other people. But he also had experienced the same healing power of God that Jesus is offering us today. And, in the Psalm, with a heart reborn to love of life, he gives thanks and praise to God for making his spirit whole again:
Oh Lord,
You changed my mourning into dancing.
Oh Lord, God,
Forever will I give you thanks (Ps. 30:12,13).
It is time to get on with life. Jesus freely gave His life for love of us! Jesus freely risked all for love of us! In Jesus' view, we are worth the risk. And, as Jesus' followers, we freely share in this view and its consequences. And we freely risk our all for it. For, as we well know, to dedicate one's life to a religion that counts every human creature of God as worthy of our love is a risky business.
"Risk your life on My life of love," Jesus is saying to us, "and together we'll laugh the laughter of God through all eternity."
