John 11:1-45 – The Death of Lazarus
Our story is one of
ongoing resurrection. Not just this story, the biblical telling of the
raising of Lazarus, but our story.
We are reminded every day that the grave is
real, it is oh so real, but at the same time, God shines light into all
the dark places we inhabit and declares that death will have no power over us.
With confidence we can declare, using the words of Job, “I know my redeemer
lives.” And in Jesus, we see that life bearing fruit in our lives and leading
us to ongoing resurrection.
Yes,
the grave is real, but we know that our redeemer lives! And because of Jesus,
and because he lives, death will never have the last word
in any of our stories. Because of Jesus, we are wrapped in resurrection
reality.
The story of the
raising of Lazarus brings this message home to us in a new way at a crucial
time in our lives. Today we worship, not gathered in person sharing the same
space, breathing the same air, hand to hand and shoulder to shoulder as we
prefer to do and need to do, because death is real. And the
threat of coronavirus is real.
Instead, churches around the world are closed
today, and people like us are worshiping virtually, worshiping at home,
worshiping in private.
Today we are faced
with a crisis like none we’ve ever faced before, and like none that we ever
wish to face again.
Around the world and in our own community there
is fear and anxiety. With many people “sheltering in place” and many others
putting their own lives at risk caring for those who are ill, our lives have
been turned upside down. Some of us have been laid off from work; others have
had to close businesses; some have lost jobs; children are home from school and
educational institutions, business corporations, stores, restaurants and of
course, even churches, have had to figure out new ways of doing what they can,
and determining what work goes undone. Even parks and playgrounds have gone
silent.
Our senior citizens
are doing their best to stay sheltered and many of them wonder how safe they
really are from this coronavirus. Those living in retirement centers, Assisted
Living or nursing homes are separated from their families or any other
visitors. In most places, even pastors are not allowed to visit their members,
visit the sick, or in many cases, even accompany the dying. The headline, “Die From Coronavirus, You Die
Alone” breaks our hearts and instills deep fear within us.
Many around the world
mourn their dead in isolation, without the ritual we expect and need at the
time of loss. Without the warm embrace and shared tears of our friends and
neighbors, we are left to bury our dead without the mutual comfort of community
surrounding us and holding us up. My own aunt passed away a couple of weeks ago
and my sister and I could not participate in her funeral due to the
restrictions in place. It brought home to me just how necessary are such
gatherings, and how much this virus is changing our most important life
passages, from birth to death, from graduations to weddings.
In times like these so
many people rise to the occasion. We’ve seen many examples of people responding
with grace and generosity. Last week a skeleton crew from our church served
about 80 dinners in a drive-thru take-out assembly line community meal and we
were not alone as feeding programs creatively and safely served the hungry poor.
Meals on Wheels and food banks have made adjustments and found ways to serve
people in need. School districts around the country are providing food for
their at-risk children and families. Teachers are forming caravans to drive
thru neighborhoods bringing a little cheer through loving waves at the children
from their now empty classrooms, whom they love and miss. Individuals are
volunteering to make grocery store and pharmacy runs for seniors who are
sheltering in place.
At the same time,
we’ve seen the senseless hoarding of supplies creating shortages and denying
those same supplies to those who truly need them. We’ve seen the birth of new
predatory scams and the blatant disregard of safety measures and resistance to safety
precautions spreading the virus and risking our vulnerable neighbors and
ourselves.
Indeed, the grave is
real, yet still, I know that my redeemer lives!
Indeed, our story is
one of ongoing resurrection.
Mary and Martha each
greet the Lord with the words – the accusation – we can even imagine these
words coming in angry, staccato bursts as he approaches them, after delaying
his arrival until well after their brother, Lazarus has died. “Lord, if you had
been here, my brother would not have died!” There is heartbreak in those words,
and Jesus feels it.
Despite her grief,
Martha goes on, “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of
him.” Did Martha have in her mind the possibility that her brother could be
raised from the dead? It would seem not, for when Jesus responds, “your brother
will rise again,” Martha, in her Jewishness, refers to the expected
resurrection of the dead on the last day.
But Jesus has something else in mind, and as
he reassures her that he is the resurrection and the life, he asks her
for her faith in this, and she illustrates her complete trust in him, “Yes,
Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into
the world.”
After Mary delivers those same words in truth
and agony, and after Jesus witnesses the grieving of the community, and as he
contemplated the place where Lazarus was laid – in the tomb, Jesus wept. There
is something comforting about knowing that Jesus, too, wept at loss, and grief,
fear, and sorrow. This Jesus is so human – so relatable. This Jesus
feels and bears our pain and sorrow in love.
Jesus’ tears legitimize our own. Lament is a
powerful human experience and it connects us with God. Rather than being a sign
of faith that is too weak, our lament expresses our deepest need, and our
helplessness over loss and death of all kinds. The work of grief is natural,
and it is necessary – even Jesus, in his humanity experienced it. Shedding his
own tears, Jesus takes our grief and anger, frustration and longing onto
himself. By so doing, he blesses it.
At the same time, Jesus gives us hope, in
fact is our hope. And to illustrate the hope that he bestows on us all,
Jesus does the impossible. He raises Lazarus from the dead.
Unlike other instances of Jesus raising the
dead, Lazarus is well and truly dead. There can be no question for a man who died,
whose body has been ritually cleaned and prepared for burial, and then had
spent four days in the sealed up tomb, that he is really dead – that already,
the stench of dead clings to him.
Yet with the power of his command and in
great love and mercy, Jesus commands him to sit up and step from the tomb, and
the miracle happens. Lazarus, still bound with the strips of cloth that wrap
the dead still binding him, steps from the darkness of the tomb to the bright
light of resurrection.
Raising Lazarus doesn’t change the past, doesn’t
deny that death comes to all of us, but it creates a new future. While it
doesn’t erase the pain of grief and the loss, it changes the finality with
which we once viewed it and the power we once gave it. As death once came for Lazarus,
it will come again. But because of the life to which Jesus restored Lazarus for
all our sakes, we can truly say, “I know the grave is real, but death will give
way to life – because Jesus makes it so.”
Through the cross and his own resurrection, Jesus
assures us of life now. We can live in hope and assurance of God’s love because
we know that our redeemer lives
Our story is one of ongoing resurrection.
Each day we are faced with death. The reality of death from old age or disease.
The death of dreams when things beyond our control close doors in our lives,
steal away our security for the future, change our plans and cancel our rights
of passage. Yet we know that none of these losses are ultimate. None will have
the last word. Because Jesus lives, and because his Spirit works in and around
and among us, we will see new opportunities and we receive the assurance that
God is with us still and will see us through this crisis and all the sorrow,
worry and fear it brings.
Jesus restores life. That’s what he does.
Faith in him allows Martha to trust that whatever the future holds, there would
be resurrection. Little could she know exactly what that looks like.
Regardless of what losses you suffer now,
what worries you have for the future, what struggle you are experiencing, the
truth is that God’s love and mercy are steadfast and true. They never end. With
Martha, we can declare our faith in this truth.
When we walk through the darkest valley, we
fear no evil, for God is with us. His light shines on us. The cross casts it’s
shadow over us, but it is the resurrection that beckons to us, because, while
the grave is real, it has no power to hold us. It will not overcome us. It is
not forever.
Resurrection is our story, it is our song, it
is our everlasting hope, because we know that our redeemer lives – and in him
we live – today, tomorrow, and forever.
Amen.
