There is a cave. It is a tomb. There is a stone. It must be rolled away. And strips of cloth — cloths for burial. There is weeping. There is death.

Jesus had come to Bethany. Lazarus was dead. “If you had been here,” Martha said, “If you had been here.” Her understanding of Jesus was such that from the very core of her being she trusted that had he been there, her brother would not have died. Even then she trusted Jesus could still do something, though she had no real notion of what shape that “something” might take. Nonetheless her confidence in the man of Nazareth was sure. “But even now,” she said, “I know that God will give you whatever you ask.”

“Your brother will rise again,” he told her. She took it as a reminder that on the last day her brother, along with all who believe, will b…