John 11:1-45
1 Now a certain man was ill,
Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. 2 Mary was the
one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her
brother Lazarus was ill. 3 So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, "Lord,
he whom you love is ill." 4 But when Jesus heard it, he said, "This
illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God's glory, so that the Son
of God may be glorified through it." 5 Accordingly, though Jesus loved
Martha and her sister and Lazarus, 6 after having heard that Lazarus was ill,
he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. 7 Then after this he said
to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." 8 The disciples said to
him, "Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going
there again?" 9 Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours of
daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the
light of this world. 10 But those who walk at night stumble, because the light
is not in them." 11 After saying this, he told them, "Our friend
Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him." 12 The
disciples said to him, "Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all
right." 13 Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they
thought that he was referring merely to sleep. 14 Then Jesus told them plainly,
"Lazarus is dead. 15 For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you
may believe. But let us go to him." 16 Thomas, who was called the Twin,
said to his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with
him." 17 When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the
tomb four days. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, 19 and
many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their
brother. 20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him,
while Mary stayed at home. 21 Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been
here, my brother would not have died. 22 But even now I know that God will give
you whatever you ask of him." 23 Jesus said to her, "Your brother
will rise again." 24 Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise
again in the resurrection on the last day." 25 Jesus said to her, "I
am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die,
will live, 26 and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you
believe this?" 27 She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are
the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world." 28 When she
had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her
privately, "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." 29 And when
she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come
to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31 The
Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and
go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb
to weep there. 32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his
feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not
have died." 33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her
also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said,
"Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and
see." 35 Jesus began to weep. 36 So the Jews said, "See how he loved
him!" 37 But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of
the blind man have kept this man from dying?" 38 Then Jesus, again greatly
disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it.
39 Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead
man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been
dead four days." 40 Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if
you believed, you would see the glory of God?" 41 So they took away the
stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having
heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake
of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me." 43
When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come
out!" 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of
cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him,
and let him go." 45 Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and
had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.
Disneyland. I suspect a great number
of you in this room have been to Disneyland at some point in your life. Then
again, there are those in this room (myself among them) who have never been to
that magical land ruled by the mouse called Mickey. There are other places like
Hawaii, where some of you may have been before and others may never get the
chance to go. Some of you may have had the opportunity to see Elvis live in
concert, while some of us weren’t even alive during his lifetime. Some of us
love the taste of sushi, while others won’t go near the stuff. You see, not all
of us have been to the same places on this earth; not all of us can say we’ve
seen the same sights or tasted the same foods or heard the same music. We all
have different experiences, different stories that have shaped us, brought us
to the place we are today. These different experiences make us who we are as
individuals. There is, however, one experience I think we all share, one thing
I think each of us in this room has in common, and I’d venture a guess to say
that each of us has gone through such an experience more than once.
The settings may be different: most of us have probably experienced these
sorts of things in rooms that look a lot like this one, with a raised platform
(chancel) and a couple of rows of padded pews or benches. Then again, many of
us have probably had these sorts of experiences outside, under a tent, while
standing on grass or two-by-fours hidden by a plastic, green covering made to
look like grass. Sometimes these events involve friends and family we haven’t
seen for ages. Sometimes there is a central piece of pottery or metal jar, and
sometimes there’s a wooden or metal box…and a hole in the ground. Sometimes
there’s food afterward, dishes provided by a church or a group of friends.
Sometimes it rains. Sometimes the sun shines so clear and warm that the air
itself feels at peace. Sometimes it is an expected experience, and sometimes it
catches us so off guard that it leaves our hearts broken and our minds filled
with questions. No matter the setting, ceremony, or circumstance, I think I can
safely safe we’ve all experienced it, the loss, the grief, the sorrow that
comes with death.
It is precisely our experiences of death that make us who we are—not as
individuals, but as the greater family of humankind. Every generation of every
race, tribe, and tongue has experienced death, and each one has its own way of
dealing with the dead, its own burial practices and grieving rituals. Whether
we’ve stood by the graves of grandparents, parents, siblings, children, or
friends, each of us, in our own way, has felt that common heartbreak that comes
with the loss of one we love. And it is precisely because we share that
heartbreak that we can so readily empathize with these two sisters, Martha and
Mary, as they mourn the loss of their brother, Lazarus, in the eleventh chapter
of the fourth gospel.
In the village of Bethany, about two miles from Jerusalem, Martha and
Mary were tending to their sick brother Lazarus. Now, we’re not told what
illness Lazarus had, but we’re told that it was of the sort that his sisters
became concerned enough to send for Jesus, One whom they knew to be capable of
healing. We’re told, however, that when Jesus gets word that Lazarus is
ill—that his dear friend is sick—he doesn’t do anything! He doesn’t even seem
concerned! His friend (whom we’re told he loved) is ill and close to the point
of death, yet Jesus doesn’t seem to care! In fact, the gospel tells us in verse 6: “after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in
the place where he was.” Jesus doesn’t seem the least bit concerned
about his friend Lazarus, and in the midst of his seeming nonchalance, Lazarus
dies.
Lazarus is dead. After being all mystical and cryptic, Jesus just puts it
bluntly to his disciples in verse 14: “Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is
dead.’” It’s only after Lazarus’ death, when it seems there is nothing
to be done to heal him, that Jesus and his disciples head back to Judea, back
to Bethany. From the time of Lazarus’ death to the time Jesus arrives in the
village, Lazarus has been dead and sealed in his tomb for four days, leaving no
doubt that the man was in fact dead. And when Jesus did arrive in the village,
and Martha caught wind of his arrival, rather than waiting back home, seated in
the proper way of ancient Judaic grief, “she went out and met him, while Mary stayed
at home” (like she was supposed to do).
Can’t you really feel the irritation, the hurt, the frustrated grief in
Martha’s voice when she speaks to Jesus in verse
21? "Lord, if you had been here, my
brother would not have died.” How many times have we had similar
thoughts when it came to prolonging the lives of those we love most? “If the
doctors had only tried a different treatment…if we had just gone to a different
hospital…if she hadn’t taken that last drink…if he had just quit smoking years
ago…if God would have been there to stop him from getting in the car that
night…if…if…if…” We can drive ourselves mad with that little word “if.” You get
the sense that Martha is remorseful, wishing that Jesus had been there to lay
hands on Lazarus, to spit in some mud and rub it on his face, to say the right
holy words, whatever it took to make her brother well, or at least prolong his
life, if only for a little while longer. One can sense even in the tension of
her frustration that Martha is trying to yield to Jesus’ power, to his divine
abilities when she says, “But even now I know that God will give you
whatever you ask of him." It almost sounds like Martha is
attempting to flatter Jesus, perhaps in order to persuade Jesus to stay a
little longer in Bethany, to explain himself and his tardiness. Whatever the
case may be, it doesn’t seem like she expected what was about to take place,
for when Jesus says to her in verse 23, “"Your brother will rise again,"
she all but interrupts him and says, “"I know that he will rise again in the
resurrection on the last day."
Martha has her theology in order; her eschatology is correct. The general
resurrection would take place in the culmination of human history, and there
and then her brother Lazarus would be raised. But Jesus, in the fifth “I am” (ego eimi) statement of John’s gospel,
clarifies what he meant about Lazarus’ coming resurrection: "I am the resurrection and
the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and
everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe
this?" Jesus wasn’t talking about some general resurrection of the
dead to take place on an unknown day in the distant future. No, the reality of
resurrection, the One with the power to bring it about, was there, in the
present, right in front of Martha. And you get the sense that she just can’t
quite comprehend what he said, because when asked if she believes it, she says,
"Yes,
Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into
the world." It’s a good answer, but one gets the sense that Martha
is giving a big, generalized answer about what she believes about Jesus,
without fully understanding what Jesus means by saying he is the “resurrection
and the life.”
Immediately after Martha’s confession, she went back to her house to tell
her sister that Jesus was asking for her. Mary, repeating the earlier actions
of her sister, “got up quickly and went to [Jesus],” and when she finds him,
she says the exact same thing her sister said, “"Lord, if you had been here,
my brother would not have died." It’s almost as if the tow of them
had been talking about Jesus’ absence during their brother’s illness, as if
they had rehearsed exactly what they were going to say when the eventually saw
Jesus. But rather than repeating his divine proclamation to Mary, Jesus
observes her grief. He is moved by her tears and the weeping of those mourning
with her. Jesus asks, “Where have you laid him?” (words
that foreshadow that coming morning when a different Mary[1]
would be searching for the body of another), and the response is “come
and see” (words that serve as a sort of call to discipleship throughout
the fourth gospel). Then, in what I find to be one of the most powerful verses
in all of Holy Scripture, we are told, “Jesus began to weep.” Jesus’ heart
breaks for Mary and her sister Martha at the loss of their brother, Jesus’
beloved friend, Lazarus.
It is at this most human moment in the life of Jesus, that his divine
power becomes most known, for after Jesus weeps for his friends, he commands
that the stone be rolled away from the tomb (language that ought to call our
hearts forward in time to another stone, rolled away from another tomb), and
despite the warning from Martha about the stench of death, “they took away the stone.”
Jesus offers a prayer of thanksgiving to God in order to make known the source
of the power about to be displayed, and then…
“Lazarus, come out!”
“The dead man came out, his hands
and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said
to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’" The one who was once
dead—four-days-dead—is now alive again. The one over whom so many tears had
been shed, so many prayers prayed, the one whose illness had seemingly ended
his life, came forth from the tomb that once sought to hold his rotting corpse.
The graves clothes still clung to his body, perhaps a sign that this
resurrection wasn’t the final say, so Jesus commands those standing by to untie
the once-dead man and let him go. Unbind him to set him free, let him go to
live, walk, and talk in the way of life after death, for the man who was once
dead is now alive again! The one for whom the casket had been bought, the plot
picked out, the flowers arranged, and the meat trays ordered, was breathing and
walking and seeing and talking again. Death did not have the final word when it
came to the life of Lazarus. Death never has the final word. No, only the Word
incarnate, Jesus the Son of God, has the last word when it comes to life and
death!
And while we may say “Amen!” to such a deep, theological sentiment, do we
not still live a world much like the world of Martha and Mary before Lazarus’
resurrected recovery? Do we not still grieve when a loved one dies? Do we not
still mourn when the casket sinks below the dirt? Do we not still feel that
emptiness in our lives, that hole in our hearts where the ones we loved once
occupied? Do we not still weep? Of course we do! Like Martha and Mary before
Lazarus’ resuscitation, we live with the mystery of the unknown after death; we
live with the graves of our friends and family in real, marked strips of earth;
we live without those who’ve died.
But death is not the final word, and that is the power of the gospel.
Death, despite our deserving it, despite our deserving of the grief and sorrow
and pain that comes with the death of those we love, despite deserving death
ourselves, it is not the final word! When Jesus raised Lazarus from the grave,
it wasn’t simply some sign to demonstrate his power of the created elements; it
was a sign foreshadowing his own death and the power that would come in his own
resurrection. On this fifth Sunday in Lent, we’ve pulled back the curtain to
get a glimpse of the glory, of the power that is coming on Easter morning, and
that glory, that power is rooted in the divine, unending, unmeasurable love of
God that says to us, while God may weep with us in the depth of our grief and
pain, there is joy—unimaginable joy—in store for us who call on his name. There
is life—eternal, joyful life—for those who trust in his love. And the greatest
thing about this joy, this eternal life, this resurrection, is that it is not
some far off promise, to be realized on some unknown day in the future.
Resurrection is real, here and now, and it is made real by those of us who have
already been unbound and let go to share that hope, that love with the world. We
live in the reality of resurrection, and that means while death still lingers
in this world, we have an amazing hope that goes beyond death, a hope that is
made real in the Christ who promised new birth from above, a hope that is made
real in the Christ who promised living water and sight to the blind.
May you be unbound and let go today: unbound to live in the joyful hope
that death is not the end; let go to share that hope with the world. May you
cling to that hope, and if that hope is not real in your life, may you hear the
voice of Jesus calling your name this morning, and may you come out of death
and into new, resurrected life.
Amen.
