"Close Encounters of the Christ Kind: Lazarus"
4-6-14 (Lent 5A)
John 11:1-45
Close Encounters of the Christ Kind: Lazarus
The tears came fresh and unbidden as Martha folded up her brother’s tunic. It still had her brother’s smell, and with it, such strong memories of him came sharp and unexpectedly. She remembered the last time he’d worn that tunic - it had been just before he’d gotten so sick, just before their entire world had been turned upside down. She remembered how they’d smiled and laughed, how Jesus had stayed with them in Bethany and how their entire house had been filled with such joy. But then he’d left, gone to minister to others, to heal and preach, and when they’d needed him the most, where was he?
As soon as Lazarus had taken ill, she and Mary had sent word to Jesus as quickly as they could. They’d seen him heal others. They knew what he’d done for others; they knew about the blind who had gained their sight, the feeding of thousands, the miraculous signs and wonders - surely he’d come as soon as he heard what was going on with Lazarus; surely he would rush to the aid of his friend, after all he had done for complete strangers.
And so she and Mary had sat beside their brother, his condition worsening each day, waiting for Jesus to come, waiting for the miracle that would save their brother’s life and heal him of his illness. And each day, as Lazarus grew frailer and there was still no Jesus, it became harder and harder for them to hold out hope - and still they did. Still they waited, knowing that it would take time for word to get to him, that they would need to be patient for just a little while longer, but that he would come.
But Jesus didn’t come - they’d still heard nothing from him, and then it was too late. Their brother was gone, and still… still, Jesus hadn’t come. And so, not knowing what else to do, numb in their grief, and now feeling hurt and confused on top of everything else, they said their goodbyes to their brother. They carefully wrapped him, prepared his body as best they could, and placed him in the tomb to go to his rest. They thanked the people of the community as they came by, each one offering their condolences. They carried on, going through the motions, the familiar routines that brought them some sense of normalcy and reality, and began trying to learn how to live with the loss.
And now, four days after they’d laid their brother to rest… Jesus finally arrived. The word reached Mary and Martha with a kind of tempered excitement - there’s always a buzz as Jesus is about to arrive somewhere, but at the same time, the people in Bethany don’t know how the sisters might receive this news. And as word got to Mary and Martha, Martha made the decision to go and to meet Christ while Mary stayed behind. And as Martha began the two mile walk to her brother’s tomb to meet Jesus there, she played out the meeting in her head over and over and over again. She was angry. She was hurt. She was lost and confused. She wanted to run into the Rabbi’s arms, to heave both sobs and punches mixed together into his chest, to cry out in her grief and scream out in her anger - to ask him: why? Where were you? Why couldn’t you have done something for him?
And when she finally saw Jesus standing there at the tomb, everything she had gone through in her head, all the things she had wanted to say, the raw emotion that had flooded her for the last week… it all just drained into a kind of hollow numbness as she came closer to him. He looked at her, his jaw set firm, his eyes speaking with a strange, sad determination. And She could see in his eyes - he was hurting, too. He had lost a friend just the same as she had lost a brother. And she went to him, embraced him and let him hold her as well, then looked up into those hurting eyes, and she said - not with anger, not with the need to hurt, not with anything but truthfulness and earnest belief - “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”
And Jesus’ eyes took on a kinder note, his serious expression lifted for a moment - he looked at Martha, placed his hands on her shoulders, and said to her: “Your brother will rise again.” Martha nodded - she’d heard the platitudes, she knew the promise of the prophets and the priests, that there would be a resurrection, that Lazarus would rise again on “the last day,” and so she responded in the same way that she had responded to all of the well-wishers, thanking them and agreeing, but still feeling hollow in the response, if not grateful and still comforted.
But Jesus moved past Martha’s response - his eyes took on a sudden seriousness as he looked at her and said with perfect clarity: “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?”
That was when Martha knew that Jesus was talking about something different, that Jesus was up to something very serious. And so she took her own leap of faith - “Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one coming into the world.” She sent for Mary, called for her sister to come quickly, and as they gathered together with their friend, their savior, Mary expressed her own grief to him as well.
The sisters and the crowds alike all shared the same opinion - if Jesus had been there, he could have saved Lazarus. If he had been there, he could have done the same thing that he’d done for the man born blind. He should have been there. But now, Jesus was there - and he felt the pain of the sisters, the confusion of the bystanders, the sheer loss that Lazarus’ death has caused. He felt it all so strongly that he was deeply moved - he wept in his own grief, his own loss, his own sorrow and sadness - even his own anger. And then he moved - out of that compassion, out of that utter depth of emotion and feeling, he moved into action.
So with his jaw firmly set, determination lining his face, he moved to the entrance of the tomb. He commanded that the stone be moved away, and suddenly people start to worry. Martha tried to rationalize with him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.” This isn’t a healing matter - it’s a death matter. It’s too late. And Jesus again, his seriousness unmistakable, looked at her and said - “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” And with that, Martha had nothing more to say. They rolled the stone away from the tomb, the smell of grave rot filled the air. And Jesus didn’t blink an eye - he just stood there in front of the tomb. He took a deep breath. He looked up to the heavens. He prayed aloud to his father, to the God who always heard him - “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 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.” And then with lightning in his eyes, he called out with a voice so full of command, so full of power, so full of life that the dead couldn’t help but hear and obey: “Lazarus, COME OUT!”
Martha folded the tunic, the tears still streaming down her face. She sat down, holding the tunic so tightly to her that it would have taken ten men to pull it from her grasp. And as she held it, Lazarus came into the room. She rushed to hug him. She took his face in her hands and just stared into his eyes. They didn’t need to say anything - just to look at one another and be reminded. Jesus had come - he had come for his friend, the one whom he loved. And nothing - not sickness, not distance, not time, not his enemies… not even death itself would keep Jesus from caring for the ones he loves. And he would be coming back.
To God be the Glory. Amen.
John 11:1-45
Close Encounters of the Christ Kind: Lazarus
The tears came fresh and unbidden as Martha folded up her brother’s tunic. It still had her brother’s smell, and with it, such strong memories of him came sharp and unexpectedly. She remembered the last time he’d worn that tunic - it had been just before he’d gotten so sick, just before their entire world had been turned upside down. She remembered how they’d smiled and laughed, how Jesus had stayed with them in Bethany and how their entire house had been filled with such joy. But then he’d left, gone to minister to others, to heal and preach, and when they’d needed him the most, where was he?
As soon as Lazarus had taken ill, she and Mary had sent word to Jesus as quickly as they could. They’d seen him heal others. They knew what he’d done for others; they knew about the blind who had gained their sight, the feeding of thousands, the miraculous signs and wonders - surely he’d come as soon as he heard what was going on with Lazarus; surely he would rush to the aid of his friend, after all he had done for complete strangers.
And so she and Mary had sat beside their brother, his condition worsening each day, waiting for Jesus to come, waiting for the miracle that would save their brother’s life and heal him of his illness. And each day, as Lazarus grew frailer and there was still no Jesus, it became harder and harder for them to hold out hope - and still they did. Still they waited, knowing that it would take time for word to get to him, that they would need to be patient for just a little while longer, but that he would come.
But Jesus didn’t come - they’d still heard nothing from him, and then it was too late. Their brother was gone, and still… still, Jesus hadn’t come. And so, not knowing what else to do, numb in their grief, and now feeling hurt and confused on top of everything else, they said their goodbyes to their brother. They carefully wrapped him, prepared his body as best they could, and placed him in the tomb to go to his rest. They thanked the people of the community as they came by, each one offering their condolences. They carried on, going through the motions, the familiar routines that brought them some sense of normalcy and reality, and began trying to learn how to live with the loss.
And now, four days after they’d laid their brother to rest… Jesus finally arrived. The word reached Mary and Martha with a kind of tempered excitement - there’s always a buzz as Jesus is about to arrive somewhere, but at the same time, the people in Bethany don’t know how the sisters might receive this news. And as word got to Mary and Martha, Martha made the decision to go and to meet Christ while Mary stayed behind. And as Martha began the two mile walk to her brother’s tomb to meet Jesus there, she played out the meeting in her head over and over and over again. She was angry. She was hurt. She was lost and confused. She wanted to run into the Rabbi’s arms, to heave both sobs and punches mixed together into his chest, to cry out in her grief and scream out in her anger - to ask him: why? Where were you? Why couldn’t you have done something for him?
And when she finally saw Jesus standing there at the tomb, everything she had gone through in her head, all the things she had wanted to say, the raw emotion that had flooded her for the last week… it all just drained into a kind of hollow numbness as she came closer to him. He looked at her, his jaw set firm, his eyes speaking with a strange, sad determination. And She could see in his eyes - he was hurting, too. He had lost a friend just the same as she had lost a brother. And she went to him, embraced him and let him hold her as well, then looked up into those hurting eyes, and she said - not with anger, not with the need to hurt, not with anything but truthfulness and earnest belief - “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”
And Jesus’ eyes took on a kinder note, his serious expression lifted for a moment - he looked at Martha, placed his hands on her shoulders, and said to her: “Your brother will rise again.” Martha nodded - she’d heard the platitudes, she knew the promise of the prophets and the priests, that there would be a resurrection, that Lazarus would rise again on “the last day,” and so she responded in the same way that she had responded to all of the well-wishers, thanking them and agreeing, but still feeling hollow in the response, if not grateful and still comforted.
But Jesus moved past Martha’s response - his eyes took on a sudden seriousness as he looked at her and said with perfect clarity: “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?”
That was when Martha knew that Jesus was talking about something different, that Jesus was up to something very serious. And so she took her own leap of faith - “Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one coming into the world.” She sent for Mary, called for her sister to come quickly, and as they gathered together with their friend, their savior, Mary expressed her own grief to him as well.
The sisters and the crowds alike all shared the same opinion - if Jesus had been there, he could have saved Lazarus. If he had been there, he could have done the same thing that he’d done for the man born blind. He should have been there. But now, Jesus was there - and he felt the pain of the sisters, the confusion of the bystanders, the sheer loss that Lazarus’ death has caused. He felt it all so strongly that he was deeply moved - he wept in his own grief, his own loss, his own sorrow and sadness - even his own anger. And then he moved - out of that compassion, out of that utter depth of emotion and feeling, he moved into action.
So with his jaw firmly set, determination lining his face, he moved to the entrance of the tomb. He commanded that the stone be moved away, and suddenly people start to worry. Martha tried to rationalize with him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.” This isn’t a healing matter - it’s a death matter. It’s too late. And Jesus again, his seriousness unmistakable, looked at her and said - “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” And with that, Martha had nothing more to say. They rolled the stone away from the tomb, the smell of grave rot filled the air. And Jesus didn’t blink an eye - he just stood there in front of the tomb. He took a deep breath. He looked up to the heavens. He prayed aloud to his father, to the God who always heard him - “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 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.” And then with lightning in his eyes, he called out with a voice so full of command, so full of power, so full of life that the dead couldn’t help but hear and obey: “Lazarus, COME OUT!”
Martha folded the tunic, the tears still streaming down her face. She sat down, holding the tunic so tightly to her that it would have taken ten men to pull it from her grasp. And as she held it, Lazarus came into the room. She rushed to hug him. She took his face in her hands and just stared into his eyes. They didn’t need to say anything - just to look at one another and be reminded. Jesus had come - he had come for his friend, the one whom he loved. And nothing - not sickness, not distance, not time, not his enemies… not even death itself would keep Jesus from caring for the ones he loves. And he would be coming back.
To God be the Glory. Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment