John 11:1-46 (suggested reading of only 32-44)
The story for this morning begins with a certain sense of urgency. It is easy to stand here now and talk about it with some sense of calm, but I can assure you that there was no calm for Martha and Mary. They were beginning to panic. Lazarus, their brother, was slipping fast. Indeed, it looked as though he would not make it.
Now, I want you to envision a person in your mind. I want a face to appear in your mind’s eye. Who would you turn to if you faced a serious crisis in your life? There are some people we would instinctively turn to in time of trouble. I want you to know that the person who came in Martha’s mind was Jesus. She sent an urgent message to him: “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” That is an interesting wording isn’t it. You see, love sees with special eyes. Mary was sure of one thing. That Jesus' love for his friend would compel him to come. This is the situation that John paints for us at Bethany. There is tension, there is fear, and there is a sense of anxiety. But, there is hope.
Now the scene shifts to the far side of the Jordan River. Jesus is there for a specific reason. He had been in Jerusalem and a very dangerous situation had developed for him. The Jewish authorities had become so enraged with his words that they had risen up against him and had even attempted to stone him to death. Indeed, John tells us that some stones were tossed. So he retired to an area where, we are told, John the Baptist had begun his ministry. Jesus is getting back to the roots of his calling. While there large crowds came to hear him.
Upon hearing the news of Lazarus’s illness, we expect Jesus to drop everything and come running, but alas, it does not happen. He is only about seventeen miles away. If he really pushed hard he could make it by late evening or by early the next morning. In one of the most bewildering scenes in all of scripture, however, Jesus did nothing for two entire days. Surly he must understand their anxiety. Surly he must be eager to help. But there it reads: “He remained two days in the place where he was.”
Why did this happen? I can only respond to that by saying: I do not know. When I read this story I want to know. Why did he delay? Surly there must be an answer to this. But read the commentaries of all of the great minds: Luther, Dodd, Calvin. None offer an answer. To this day it is still hard for me to accept not knowing why. How true were the words of the Apostle Paul when he wrote: In this life we look through a mirror dimly. If we had all the answers then we would not need faith, for faith picks up where sight leaves off. The Book of Hebrews reads: “Faith is the evidence of things not seen.” In my mind I understand that but I still cannot get out of my mind the thought of Martha looking down the road that first night waiting for Jesus to come. Every time she sees someone her hopes are lifted as she thinks: maybe that’s him. But God has his own schedule.
Two days later Jesus suddenly announces it is time to return to Judea. He said: I go to awake our friend Lazarus out of his sleep. Now Jesus is speaking theologically, which is the only significant way to speak, but the problem is that we usually do not think theologically. Since he is only asleep, they questioned, why should he risk his own life by returning to Judea. More of a cooling off time was needed they argued. Jesus must now be blunt with them and tell them that he was only speaking figuratively. John words it by saying: “Then Jesus spoke out plainly. Lazarus is dead. I am glad not to have been there; it will be for the good of your faith. Let us now go to him.” It was the twin that spoke out. We will go and die with you,” said Thomas. Clearly the disciples thought that it was a bad decision but they are not ready to abandon ship yet.
Now John shifts the scene back to Bethany. Lazarus is dead. And John says that many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort them. So many things on this earth have changed——the clothes that we wear, the food we eat, even the language we speak——but I still continue to believe that the core of human nature has been unrelentingly the same. When a heart is broken friends still come to sympathize. That hasn’t changed in 2,000 years. And what a blessing they can be. Someone to shore us up with their own strength when we are down.
As soon as Martha heard that Jesus was coming she went out to meet him. She could have said: Tell him not to bother; I don’t need him anymore now. She could have become bitter. Not only did Jesus fail to save Lazarus, he didn’t even bother to come to the funeral. The neighbors came. They sent flowers. But not Jesus.
There are some who insist that she was bitter and it is seen in her first words to Jesus: If you had been here, my brother would not have died. Many say that these were words yelled in anger. I used to accept that interpretation, but now I am no longer so sure. Perhaps she spoke these words softly with moistened eyes. Regardless of how she said it, there can be no escaping that there is agony in her words. Of that we can be sure. Even so she still holds out hope. She says: “Even now Lord, whatsoever you ask of God it will be done.”
Faith or wishful thinking? It depends upon your perspective I guess.
Jesus replied: “Your brother shall rise again.” Like the disciples, Martha does not catch it. “Oh,” she says, “I know that he will be raised in the final resurrection.” Now what Martha is referring to here is the rather vague Jewish belief, at least a belief held by some Jews, in a life after death. The Pharisees believed that there would be a resurrection of the dead but the Sadducees did not. Martha obviously was influenced by the Pharisees. What Martha is really saying is: “Oh, I suppose some day that all of this will be made right.” Jesus replies: Martha, I am the Resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live. And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die.” Ever since those words were spoken life has never been the same. I will grant you that the divine event has not yet been enacted. The cross and the empty tomb for us are yet to come. But with these words Jesus gives us a glimpse into eternity.
I don’t know if you were sitting in front of the TV Monday night when New York City marked the six months since the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks but it was a pretty moving event when they turned on the lights which outlined the Twin Towers. It was a clear night so those great big blue lights shot right up to the heavens. The say this sculpture of light will be lit every night until early April. It was rather a ghostly image as the cameras panned back and showed the Manhattan skyline, those square beams of light towering over everything. It still seems so unreal.
For those in attendance that day when the lights were turned on in that dark cave at Bethany; when Lazarus stood before them like some ghost from the past there certainly was a sense of being stunned, not believing what you are seeing.
Friends, the church has a great message. And it is this: You shall not die. In the burial ritual of the United Methodist Church the first words that are spoken are the words that Jesus spoke to Martha on that occasion. She represents every man, every woman throughout all of history. Martha at that moment is humankind. Lord, she said, I now believe that you are the Messiah the son of the living God. It is an affirmation that Peter will later make, and a thief on the cross, and a man by the name of Paul, and countless millions throughout the ages.
Jesus now goes to the house and there finds Mary in mourning. He is deeply moved. John words it simply: Jesus wept. It is the shortest verse in all of scripture but entailed in these two words are one of the greatest contributions that Christendom has to offer to the world of religion. It is the concept of divine suffering. It says to us that when we cry God cries. When we hurt, God shares in that hurt. God is not removed and unattached.
An old Yiddish folk story tells of a well-to-do gentleman of leisure much interested in the Hebrew Scriptures. He visited a wise rabbi to ask a question. He said: “I think I grasp the sense and meaning of these writings except for one thing. I cannot understand how we can be expected to give God thanks for our troubles.” The rabbi knew instantly that he could not explain this with mere words. He said to the gentleman: “If you want to understand this, you will have to visit Isaac the water-carrier.” The gentleman was mystified by this, but knowing the rabbi to be wise, crossed to a poor section of the settlement and came upon Isaac the water-carrier, an old man who had been engaged in mean, lowly, backbreaking labor for some fifty years.
The gentleman explained the reason for his visit. Isaac paused from his labors. Finally, after several minutes of silence, looking baffled, he spoke: “I know that the rabbi is the wisest of men. But I cannot understand why he would send you to me with that question. I can’t answer it because I’ve had nothing but wonderful things happen to me. I thank God every morning and night for all his many blessings on me and my family.”
That story contains a great truth. That old man, as hard as his life was, understood what so many of us do not: God is there in our suffering.
Oh f rends, you have a heavenly father who cries with you when you cry. He understands eternally what it means to hurt, but because he has taken on our hurt in the person of Jesus.
Jesus now went over to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone rolled in front of it John tells us. He ordered the stone removed, but Martha, ever the practical one, ever the realistic one, said: “Master it has now been four days and there will now be a stench.” Jesus replied: Did I not say to you to have faith and that you will see the glory of God.” Then Jesus offered up a prayer “Father I thank you. You have heard me, already. I spoke for the sake of the people standing around that they might believe that you sent me.”
John writes that Jesus now cried out with a loud voice: Lazarus come forth. Some scholars have pointed out that the next time John uses the Greek word to cry out, it is at the crucifixion, when the crowd is crying out for the death of Jesus. The cry of Jesus is the cry of life against death. At these words Lazarus walks out of the grave.
Well, there was no denying what they had seen. The Jewish mourners could not possibly deny what they had seen. A man they had helped bury, whose death they had mourned, one who had been in the tomb for four days, was now very much dead. There was simply no way to dispute it.
It reminds me that scene in the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy’s tornado tossed house lands on top of the wicked witch of the west who has been terrorizing the residents of Munchkin land. The witch looks dead, but before the celebration of their good fortune can begin, death must be verified beyond any shadow of doubt. The mayor of the city says to Dorothy, “As the mayor of Munchkin City, in the county of the land of Oz, I welcome you most regally. But we’ve got to verify it legally, to see if she is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, absolutely, positively, undeniably, and reliably dead!”
When Martha goes out with Jesus, there is no doubt. Lazarus is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, absolutely, positively, undeniably, and reliably dead.
In fact, John does not tell us that there were any present that disbelieved what they had seen with their own eyes. He writes: “Many of the Jews put their faith in him. But some went off to the Pharisees and reported what he had done.”
Clearly this miracle proved to be a watershed in the life of Jesus. If this man has this kind of power, he presents a threat to the powers that be. He can no longer be ignored. To heal a poor cripple whom nobody cares about is one thing, but to raise a man from the dead.
As for us, what does this story have to say? It says to us that the people of God are born to eternal life. It says that those of us who have been called forth from our tombs of sin are now to call others to life. It says that not even the gates of hell shall prevail against life. It is by that promise that we live and it is by that promise that we are God’s Easter people. Amen.