Fall, Lazarus and the Deathly Hallows

It's about to get cold.  I know.  None of us want to believe it, but the weather is turning.  Things are dying, squirrels are trying to gnaw their way into my room through the window screen.  I didn't get to experience this last year in Oregon, so I'm actually kind of enjoying it so far but I guess I'll let ya know come January.

On a quasi-related note, my Harry Potter dork-dom has reached new levels of late.  I'm writing a piece for the Concord on Harry Potter, death and dying, and I'm counting down the days (35) until Deathly Hallows.  On the one hand I kind of feel like I should tone it down a notch.  I mean, I am 24 years old--so maturity should probably kick in any day now--and I am a chess master--so I don't really need to provide any additional reasons for people to give me a wide berth.  And yet, I can't feel like there is something so profound about the death and resurrection themes in HP that is just perfect for this season and for this time in history.

Dr. Koester was lecturing yesterday on Lazarus, Jesus' odd behavior and resurrection in John 11.  What a powerful lecture!  It is the consummate resurrection story with all the themes that cause the hairs on my arm to stand on end.  Still, I have to admit I was putting it not just through the lens of our ultimate resurrection but also through the lens of the Deathly Hallows.

Who is the master of death?  Not the one who runs from it, but the one who overcomes it because she is not afraid of it.  Martha's faith in the face of Lazarus' death is not based on his resurrection; her faith comes first.  Meanwhile, when Harry walks into the clearing and faces Voldemort he walks forward knowing that death is coming.  And he gives his life willingly.  Harry is not a Christ-figure.  But... he is a representative of us all--he is deeply human.

We can relate in part because he isn't all that special.  He never saves himself.  Never.  Not once.

In fact, that is Snape and Voldemort's critique of Harry from the beginning--that he is surrounded by others much more gifted than himself; protectors who keep him safe even at the cost of their lives.  Ironically, Snape knows so well because he is a part of it.  We need those others in our lives who pick us up when we fall.

But here's the meat:  we have to fall first.

Jesus could have gone early and saved Lazarus--when he heard Lazarus was sick he waited two days, ensuring it seems that he would die.  Death happens.  It's coming.  This season it is all the more poignant, and yet it is all the more defeated.  That is the way of these things.  It's OK to look death in the face.  In fact, it's the thing that separates us from Voldemort ("flees from death" in French).  So as the leaves fall and the sun drops lower and lower in the sky, we can whine about what's coming or walk straight into the winter not afraid of the end of things because our future is certain.  Death is coming--whether by Avada Kedavra or snowstorm--and how great it is that things are ending, because resurrection is oh so good.