Preached by Michael Cheuk
March 9, 2008, Fifth Sunday in Lent
John 11:1-45
This episode from the Gospel of John has often been called “The Raising of Lazarus.” And yet, it is interesting that in the forty-five verses it takes to tell this story, only two verses are devoted to the actual raising of Lazarus, and they take place almost at the very end. For forty-two verses, the Fourth Evangelist tells a story about loss, mourning, grief, questioning and yes, even anger in the face of the sickness and death of a loved one. And who among us has not experienced the fear and uncertainty over the sickness of a loved one? Who among us has not experienced the grief, mourning and even anger over the death of a loved one? Who among us has not questioned why a loved one had to die? Who among us has not second guessed all the things that we or others could have done in order to prevent the death? If you have experienced those feelings, then you are not alone, for Martha and Mary also experienced all those feelings when their brother Lazarus fell sick and then died.
When Martha and Mary first learned about their brother’s grave illness, they sent an urgent message to Jesus and his disciples, who were staying a day’s journey away from Bethany at the Jordan River in the wilderness near the Dead Sea. Jesus and his disciples were there because the Jewish authorities from Jerusalem were seeking to kill Jesus. Martha and Mary sent Jesus a simple message: “Lord, the one you love is sick.” Now, Jesus loved Lazarus and Martha and Mary, and so it seemed unusual for Jesus to stay where he was for two more days before heading back up to Judea. We might think that Jesus put off returning to Bethany, so near Jerusalem, because to go back meant risking his own life. But Jesus makes clear that he has other reasons for staying away, and he was certainly not indifferent to Lazarus’ plight.
When Jesus finally reached Bethany, the funeral for Lazarus was well under way. He had already been in the tomb for four days. According to popular Jewish belief, the soul of the deceased hovered near the dead body for three days, only to depart for good on the fourth day. Jesus waited to return to Bethany on the fourth day, when he knew that Lazarus was good and dead. The whole town was out, mourning the loss and trying to comfort the grieving sisters.
When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she-always busy and proactive-rushed out to meet him. And in her conversation with Jesus, we see and hear the conflicting emotions of a person deep in grief. We hear the conflicting impulses of frustration followed by faith in Martha’s first words to Jesus: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” We feel the tension between what her head knows and what her heart longs for. In response to Jesus’ statement, “Your brother will rise again,” Martha said: “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Martha knows the right answer, but you can also sense the longing of her heart. We see the oscillating clash between belief and doubt. Martha tries to prevent Jesus from opening Lazarus’ tomb because of the stench, even though, just verses before, she professed that she believed that Jesus could raise Lazarus from the dead. And then there’s Mary who just resigned to weep at Jesus’ feet, because she was so consumed by her grief that she could barely talk. Frustration and faith, head knowledge and heart longing, belief and doubt, grief and resignation-those were the feelings that gripped the sisters in the wake of Lazarus’ death. On one level, this story is about the pain and the grief that accompanies death.
But on a deeper level, this story is about death as an occasion to reveal the glory of God. While others only saw in Lazarus sickness and death, Jesus saw in the death of Lazarus an opportunity to show that God is Lord not just of life but also of death. Lazarus’ death was an occasion to reveal that Jesus himself is the resurrection and the life. That’s why Jesus delayed two days before going back to Bethany to make sure that Lazarus was dead. Jesus was not trying to make light of Lazarus’ death or of the sisters’ pain and grief. For when Jesus saw Mary weeping and was shown Lazarus’ tomb, the Bible says Jesus was “deeply moved in spirit and troubled.” But what the Bible literally says was that Jesus “snorted with anger in the spirit and was agitated.” Jesus was angry that in this fallen world, the power of death still holds sway, wreaking havoc and devastation upon family and friends. Jesus did not minimize the power of death. Instead, Jesus honestly faced death with Lazarus’ sisters, and he wept not only in sympathy with their grief, but also in agony because he knew that the hour is coming when he would have to confront the power of death.
Jesus “allowed” his beloved friend Lazarus to die not so that he could play with Martha and Mary’s emotions. Lazarus died because that’s the reality of our present world. Apart from trust in God, this world is a cemetery. The point was not the raising of Lazarus, for Lazarus was not resurrected, he was only resuscitated. Lazarus would die again. In fact, after Jesus called Lazarus’ name to come out of the tomb, the Fourth Evangelist wrote: “The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.” Lazarus was a dead man walking, still defined by death. His body was still wrapped by the markers of mortality. And so are we all. Some of us might escape death longer than others, but we all are going to die. The point was not the raising of Lazarus, but the resurrection of Jesus and the glory it will bring to God. Seen in this light, Lazarus’ resuscitation became a rising sign of hope, a sign that points to what will happen to all humanity who believe that Jesus is the resurrection and the life.
As we draw toward the end of the season of Lent, once again we are invited to face death–ours and the ones we love. But we need not wallow in it, because when we look at death in the face, we find the grace of God. The Good News of Lent and Holy Week is that, like Lazarus, life steps out of an open tomb. And even if we are like Martha and Mary in the face of death, conflicted between frustration and faith, head knowledge and heart longing, belief and doubt, Jesus does not count that against us. He comes to offer us life anyway. Therefore, we have hope that even in the deep despair of our night, joy returns in the morning.
Jesus said: “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. . . . Do you believe this?” Amen.[1]
[1] I am endebted to Gail O’Day’s The Word Disclosed: Preaching the Gospel of John (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2002) for many of the ideas and some of the wording of this homily.
