I have always felt sorry for Lazarus. I mean, dying once is bad enough; but this poor fellow had to go through the whole ordeal a second time! And for what? At first glance, it seems as though he was recalled to this earth for the mere purpose of fortifying his sister’s faith. Then he would have to go through the process of dying once again.
We are all familiar with the story. Jesus receives the news while He is in Perea that His friend Lazarus is ill. He says, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” (John 11:11) Jesus apparently uses a word which can mean either sleep or death. The Greek word is kekoimetai, from which we get our English word “cemetery.” The disciples suppose Him to mean natural sleep, and not being very eager to go into Judea where their lives were in danger, they conclude that the best course of action is to do nothing. “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” (11:12) So, in order to clear things up, Jesus uses another word about which their can be no ambiguity. “Lazarus is dead.”
What terrifying words those are. “Lazarus is dead.” With what terrible finality they come unbidden into our hearts and lives. A friend, a neighbor, a brother or a sister, mother or father, husband or wife, or a child, is dead. Period. What more can be said? A great deal more, according to the Fourth Gospel, especially if the one who is dead is also a friend of Jesus. So Jesus goes again to one of His favorite places: the village of Bethany where His friends Mary and Martha and Lazarus live, just two short miles walk from Jerusalem. Martha, ever the busy one, rushes to meet Him on the road. Her greeting is a strange mixture of rebuke and faith: “”Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” (11:21) Then, realizing that her tone hurt her dear Friend, she quickly hastens to add: “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus says to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha replies, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Now those are interesting words. Belief in the resurrection was not universal among the Jews of Jesus’ day. By making this confession of her faith, Martha is showing that she follows the teachings of the Pharisees rather than the teaching of the Sadducees, for while the Pharisees believed in a final resurrection, the Sadducees did not. But Jesus is not here talking about some “far off divine event toward which all Creation moves.” He is talking about the here and now. One of the primary characteristics of the Fourth gospel is that Eternal Life is not just something which God gives us someday in the sweet bye and bye, or at the end of time, or after death. Eternal Life has its beginnings in the here and now. We recall Jesus’ words in John 17:3, “... this is (present tense) eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” So Jesus says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Note: He says “I am,” not “I will be.”
Here is John’s unique message: Eternal Life is not something which happens to us only after we die. It begins not at the end of time, nor at death, but wherever and whenever anyone becomes linked up with the Eternal God through the living Christ in the here and now. Whoever believes in Him has Eternal Life, now. Death will come, of course, for Jesus’ words are not literally true, where He said, “Everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” Death, physical death, will come. But this is not the death which separates us from God. Physical death is robbed of its power because with Jesus Christ there is life on both sides of the grave! “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,” says Jesus. And then He asks Martha, “Do you believe this?” And Martha confesses her faith, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” And Jesus validates her faith in Him by performing the greatest of all the “seven “signs” in John: He raises her brother Lazarus from the dead.
Now, it must be admitted that many Biblical scholars have problems with this story. They wonder why the other Gospels never mention such a stupendous happening. St. Luke was a physician and would have been fascinated by such a miraculous happening. It is nothing less than astonishing that of all the Gospels, only the fourth one tells this story. Scholars wonder why, and suggest that if the other Gospel writers knew about this miracle, it seems incredible that they would not have mentioned it. And, it is difficult to see how they could not have known about it, if it were an actual historical happening. Some scholars, therefore, suggest that the whole thing is an allegory which grew out of hints in the first three Gospels, putting together the raising of Jairus’ daughter, the widow of Nain’s son, the story of Mary and Martha, plus Jesus’ own parable of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16 which ends with the words, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” (Luke 16:31) Admittedly, the miracle itself is difficult. The other three Gospels have accounts of two miracles of Jesus raising persons from the dead: the daughter of Jairus and the son of the poor widow from the village of Nain. In those cases death had taken place only hours before and it may well be that they were only cases of coma which had the appearance of death. The late Leslie Weatherhead of City Temple in London suggested that when Jesus said of Jairus’ daughter, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” (Matthew 5:39) Jesus is speaking the literal truth. And he could never understand why people keep on insisting that Jesus raised a dead girl when Jesus said plainly that she was not dead. But in John, Chapter 11, Jesus uses a totally different word regarding Lazarus. Lazarus is dead. Certifiably dead. And had been dead for four days!
At this point some explanation of the burial customs of Jesus’ time might be of help to us. In ancient Palestine, as in Israel today, burial was usually on the same day as death, or as soon thereafter as possible. There was no embalming, and among Orthodox Jews even today, there is no embalming. They believe that such a pagan practice is disrespectful of the dead. The custom was to bury in caves on the hillside. As one visits Jerusalem and the surrounding hillsides, especially the Mount of Olives today, one can see thousands of graves. the whole area seems to be one gigantic necropolis. And Bethany was just over the Mount of Olives, a scant two miles from Jerusalem. From Jesus’ day there are records of an occasional resuscitation, in which a supposedly dead person would be revived by the coolness of the tomb. Consequently, there developed the custom of the family’s visiting the tomb for three days, hoping against hope, that some sort of mistake had been made. And, of course, if there had been embalming, that hope would have been obliterated. In addition, certain rabbis of the time taught that the spirit of the deceased hovered over the body for three days before finally departing. So, by mentioning the “four days,” John is telling us emphatically: Lazarus was certifiably dead! There was no possibility of a mistaken diagnosis. He was dead and had been so for four days.
When I was in college ‘way back in the “dark ages” I once had a religion professor who, imbued with the spirit of the worst in 1930’s “liberalism.” attempted to give a rational and non-supernatural explanation for all of Jesus’ miracles. He insisted that Jesus never really “healed” anyone. The people just “thought they were sick,” and Jesus was a good practitioner of what we today call “psychosomatic medicine.” He changed their minds and they made themselves well. (Of course, he never did explain just how Jesus knew so much about “psychosomatic medicine” which we are just beginning to discover.) At any rate, this chap insisted that the people Jesus met in the Gospels were not really ill; they just thought they were ill. One day in class I remember asking, “How about Lazarus? Did he just think he was dead?” The professor quickly dismissed the class before any more embarrassing questions could be asked. It seems to me that some of our attempt to “explain away” the miracle stories in the Gospels are more far-fetched than the miracle stories themselves!
I have a hunch that when the author of the Fourth Gospel says that Lazarus was dead, he meant what he said. He took this to be a real historical occurrence. Indeed, he may have been writing from first-hand experience, for there is a minority opinion among scholars that Lazarus himself was the author of the Fourth Gospel! I said it is a “minority” opinion, but it is based on some hints in the Gospels themselves. Originally, the Gospels came with no authors’ names attached to them. The Fourth gospel has traditionally been attributed to the unnamed disciple who is know only by the appellation as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” We have usually assumed that was the apostle John. But the only disciple in all of the Gospels who is specifically referred to as “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is Lazarus! Remember how He was told, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” (John 11:3) The jury is still out on this question, but it does, you will admit, open some interesting possibilities!
At any rate, this story does not sound like an allegory or a parable or a “made up” story. It is filled with all sorts of little details which give it the ring of veracity. Why, then, did not the “Synoptic Gospels” (that’s what we call the first three) mention it? Could it be that Lazarus was still alive when they wrote, and they wished to save him the embarrassment of having folks treat him like a side-show freak, coming up to him and saying, “Hey Lazarus, what was it like? They tell me you were dead for four days. Describe heaven for us.” The poor fellow would never have gotten a moment’s peace! Indeed, the very next chapter tells of crowds coming to see Jesus, but also to look at Lazarus whom Jesus had raised from the dead.
Most scholars believe that Mark’s Gospel was the first to be written. The other Gospel writers, then, based their stories upon it, together with other materials from perhaps an oral tradition which was circulating at the time. And what is the Gospel according to St. Mark? It is really the memoirs of Peter. Mark was Peter’s secretary, and it so happens that there is no mention of Peter anywhere in John, chapters 7-12.
It is suggested that at the time Peter was not yet with Jesus, and so therefore could not have witnessed the miracle of the raising of Lazarus. Another indirect evidence of the fact that Peter was not there at the time is that Thomas, who is rarely heard from otherwise, assumes the role of spokesperson for the band of disciples. That is the role which Peter usually plays in the Gospels. So perhaps Peter wasn’t there. And in those days there was no press corps or CNN to cover the event! No reporter from “the Bethlehem Star” was available. And so the first three Gospels missed it.
This may not be as far-fetched as it sounds at first sight. We do know that in many places the Fourth gospel seems to draw upon a separate tradition from the Synoptics. The author has knowledge of some events in the life of our Lord which they do not have. Jesus did many things (as John’s Gospel admits) which were never recorded in any Gospel! Cf. John 21:25: “...there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” There is no doubt that John uses this story for his own theological purposes, just as he used the other six “signs,” to proclaim Jesus as the Messiah who has come into the world. But beneath each of the seven “signs” there is a substratum of historical fact. And this story has the ring of truth to it. Here we have a very human Jesus. He is moved by genuine human emotion. He cannot restrain His tears. He is not a Gnostic ghost flitting about the earth, but a flesh and blood human being who knows the meaning of human anguish and pain. If the story were a made-up story, Jesus and His friends Mary and Martha would have been put in a better light. But oftentimes the strongest witnesses to Jesus’ wonders are not His friends but His enemies.
John says that some of the people who had mourned the death of Lazarus stopped their weeping and wailing and went off to report to the Pharisees what Jesus had done. The authorities evidently took the raising of Lazarus very seriously: Caiaphas and the high priest met in emergency session with their advisors to deal with this severe challenge to their authority. And John says that “...from that day on they planned to put him (Jesus) to death.” (11:53) That may be the clue to the meaning of the whole story.
Here, as always in this Gospel, we have to stop and ask: What message did the author wish to convey by remembering this story? The fact of the matter is that it was just this event which precipitated Jesus’ own crucifixion and death. Because of this stupendous miracle, Jesus’ enemies—the religious establishment in Jerusalem—decided that the Jesus Movement had gone far enough. The whole thing must now be nipped in the bud. In ancient Rabbinic sources, there is a story that Jesus had a forty-day trial. Now, that is impossible to reconcile with the Gospel records which indicate that His trial lasted one day, at most. But can we consider the possibility that, according to John, when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, from that time forward the authorities put out a warrant for His arrest, and a subpoena for anyone having any information as to the whereabouts of this rabble-rousing rabbi from Nazareth? If the Jewish tradition has a grain of truth in it at all, then the raising of Lazarus occurred forty days before Jesus’ own crucifixion, and from that time forward Jesus was a marked man.
This would explain a couple of puzzling things in the Gospel record. For one thing, scholars have wondered why Jesus chose to remain in Perea two days after He had heard the news of Lazarus’ illness. Certainly it was not, as some have suggested, to heighten the miraculous quality of what He was about to do, or to test the faith of His dearest friends. I cannot believe that Jesus would have acted with such cruelty. Was it, instead, a matter of Jesus’ wrestling within Himself, needing time to pray: “Father, is this the time for me to act? Is this Your will for my life—that I go to Bethany, just a stone’s throw away from my enemies, and perform a deed which will seal my own fate?” Jesus says, “Father, I thank you for having heard me.” (11:41) Is this not an evidence that Jesus had been praying, possibly from the very time He had first heard of Lazarus’ illness while He was in Perea, across the Jordan? Was He praying about which course He should take? Is this what caused His delay...not purposely keeping Mary and Martha in a state of anxiety and grief merely to show off His wonder-working power. Surely such a thing is more consistent with the character of the Jesus we know.
The record says that Jesus was “greatly disturbed” twice! The commentaries give all sorts of meanings to Jesus’ words in this chapter. They wonder whether He was disturbed, chafed, angry, moved with pity, upset, or agitated. His was not the usual response of grief upon hearing of the death of a dear friend. But something deeper seems to be going on here. Some suggest that Jesus was angry at the disbelief of the mourners, and especially of Mary and Martha, but that seems doubtful. Is it possible, then, that this is John’s version of Jesus’ agony in the Garden of Gethsemane? Since there is no struggle recorded later on, on the night of Jesus’ arrest, perhaps the struggle is here. Jesus is moved by what is really taking place, rather than by what is apparently taking place. Jesus knows that to take Lazarus out of the tomb is in effect to put Himself into it!! The same expression occurs again in chapter 12, verse 27, when Jesus cries out, “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.” What hour? The hour of His deliverance into the hands of His enemies, and of His own death. The shortest verse in the Bible, a favorite of those who have to memorize Bible verses is John 11:35. It says, simply, “Jesus wept.” That’s the old version. The New revised Standard version is a bit longer: “Jesus began to weep.” The word means literally, “He burst into tears.” In the Greek it is a much more powerful word than the one used to describe the weeping of Lazarus’ sisters and friends. What caused such an outpouring of grief? Sorrow because of the death of His friend; compassion for Mary and Martha, of course, but underneath it all was the full realization that the act he was about to perform would seal His own fate. The road upon which He was embarking would ultimately lead to a cross.
If this is the explanation of Jesus’ actions in this chapter, then it helps us to understand another thing. John has Jesus saying, “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.” (11:4) Now, I do not believe that Jesus is saying that poor Lazarus was allowed to die simply so Jesus could show off His wonder-working power. In John’s Gospel Jesus’ “glorification” means His being lifted up on a cross; His suffering, death, and resurrection. So what Jesus is doing is literally trading His life for Lazarus’ life! And how very like Him that is. We remember that he said, “”No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (15:3) Well, that is just exactly what Jesus was doing in Bethany, at the home of Mary and Martha and Lazarus.
The author sketches the dramatic moments vividly. Jesus’ command to remove the grave-stone is met with Martha’ remonstrance. He calls upon her to trust in God and the stone is removed. Then there is the prayer, and the call to Lazarus, “Come out!” And He comes. Can anyone read this and not have the mind shift from Lazarus’ death and burial to Jesus’ own death and burial and resurrection? For John this is a “sign”—and beyond what is apparently happening is what is really happening. It is as though one held up to the light a sheet of paper on which is written the story of the raising of Lazarus, but bleeding through from the other side of the paper is that other story of the death and resurrection of Jesus. God calls out, “Come out!” and Easter happened.
What, then, of Lazarus? Should we feel sorry for him, having to come back to this vale of tears for a re-run, as it were? Early legends tell us that Lazarus lived for another thirty years, and one declares that he went around with a half smile on his face every day for the rest of his life. You see, he knew the secret; the secret which all of us who are friends of Jesus are also supposed to know, that death is not the end. The grave is not a dead-end, but a through-street. Lazarus knew that death could not hold him, because it could not hold his risen Lord.
When Martin Luther was hailed before kings and bishops and told to renounce his new-found faith at the beginning of the Reformation, he was asked, “Where will you be, Brother Martin, when all your friends desert you? When your enemies finally kill you? Where will you be then, Brother Martin?” And Luther confidently replied, “Then, as now, safe in the arms of Almighty God!” So also Lazarus could say.
There is a play written by Eugene O’Neill in 1927 titled “Lazarus Laughed,” from which I have borrowed the title for this sermon. The point of the play is that Lazarus, having discovered that there really is no death, finds no place in his heart for sorrow and weeping anymore. In the first act of the play a band of Roman soldiers swoops down on a group of Lazarus’ friends and relatives and leaves them mortally wounded and Lazarus looks upon the scene triumphantly and says confidently, “there is no death.” A man bending over one body says, “Here is your father, Lazarus. He is dead.” A woman beside another body says, “This is your mother, Lazarus. She is dead.” And still another, “This is your sister Mary, Lazarus. She is dead.” And Lazarus answers, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Then, from the quiet depths of his exultant spirit he begins to laugh, saying,
Laugh! laugh!
Fear is no more!
There is no death!
There is only life!
There is only laughter!
Death is dead!
In the final scene of the play, Tiberius Caesar, who because of his guilty conscience cannot endure Lazarus’ laughter any longer, has him bound to a stake, with a huge pile of firewood, and orders the wood to be lighted. As the flames leap up around Lazarus’ body, the emperor and his soldiers give themselves to mockery,
Ha-ha-ha-ha
Burn and laugh!
Laugh now, Lazarus!
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
For once Lazarus is unable to respond because they have bound his mouth with a gag. But he laughs at them with his eyes until even Tiberius wants to hear him speak again and orders a soldier to cut away the gag. Then Tiberius says, “Quick, Lazarus! You will soon be silent! Speak! In the name of man’s solitude—his agony of farewell—what is beyond there, Lazarus!” And forgetting his pain, forgetting the fire, Lazarus gives his ringing answer: “LIFE! ETERNITY! STARS AND DUST! GOD’S ETERNAL LAUGHTER!”
In the immortal words of St. Paul, in Romans 8: “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? No...I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Thanks be to God. Amen.