By all appearances, the junior high youth group at First Church was going well. Bob and Betsy, their two enthusiastic advisors, planned a full calendar of events to keep them busy. The youth went to roller skating parties and winter retreats. They played a variety of sports, discussed a lot of movies, and celebrated every holiday with a party. But when it came to leading the young teens into the deeper waters of faith, Bob and Betsy were frustrated.
One Sunday afternoon, Bob announced the group was beginning a study of the Gospel of John. "It's a good book," he said, "and we think a church youth group should read it." To begin the study, he gave the kids an assignment. "During the next week," Bob said, "we want you to flip through the Gospel of John until you find a verse that means something to you. Memorize the verse. Next week, come back and recite it for the rest of the group."
Attendance the next week was spotty, but the few who were present were also prepared. They went around the circle, starting with Diane. "My verse is John 3:16," Diane said. "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life." Betsy asked why she picked the verse. Diane said, "My grandmother said it was important."
Mark was next. He quoted, "Truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above" (John 3:3). When the advisors asked him why he selected it, Mark said, "I opened my dad's Bible and saw these words were printed in red ink. I figured they must be important."
On around the circle they went. Whether they knew it or not, the kids in the group were doing something important. The Gospel of John is full of pithy, pungent sayings, like "The Word became flesh and lived among us" (John 1:14), or "I am the resurrection and the life" (John 11:25). Every page has three or four important truths compressed like brilliant diamonds. In every chapter, the eternal Word of God is revealed not only in stories but in memorable one-liners. By memorizing these verses, in some sense those Junior Highs were learning the gospel.
At least it looked that way. Soon it was time for the last youth to speak. Jonathan was the minister's son. Grinning from a successful Bible study, Betsy said, "Jonathan, tell us what verse you have memorized today." Jonathan said, "My verse is John 11:35." Bob said, "Can you remember how it goes?"
"Sure," said Jonathan. He cleared his throat. He stood erect and looked around the group. Then with a note of sobriety he said, "Jesus wept."
That did it. The rest of the kids burst into laughter. Bob and Betsy tried to grab the reins of those runaway wild horses. "Tell us, Jonathan," Betsy said, "why did you pick that verse?" With perfect teenage logic, Jonathan replied, "Because it's the shortest verse in the Bible."
At first glance, that brief verse looks like a lightweight compared to other verses. The Gospel of John often reveals the eternal Word in single sentences, but the sentence "Jesus wept" does not sound like one of them. Even when the New Revised Standard Version expands it to four words ("Jesus began to weep"), John 11:35 doesn't seem to carry the full freight of the Gospel.
That brief verse occurs in the story of the death of Lazarus, a significant event in the ministry of Jesus. Lazarus was a disciple whom Jesus loved (John 11:5). More than a servant, Jesus called him "friend" (John 11:11). Yet Lazarus was dead. He was neither sleeping nor hiding out of sight. Lazarus was stone-cold in the tomb. When Jesus arrived, it was too late. If Jesus had come sooner, he might have healed the illness. But by the time Jesus reached Bethany, nothing could be done.
According to the story in John 11, the death of a beloved friend was the event that prompted Jesus' tears. His tears looked like our tears. This fact had led some commentators, and a lot of preachers, to assume Jesus was deeply moved at the death of his friend. Perhaps Jesus was overcome by grief, sentiment, and sadness at the loss of a loved one. At the tomb, Jesus appeared as human as the rest of us.
Many people are comforted by that sight. A few years ago, four-year-old Conor Clapton fell to his death in New York City. After the tragedy his father, rock guitarist Eric Clapton, said, "I turned to stone. Then I went off the edge of the world for a while." In time, Clapton put his tortured felings in a song: Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure,And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.1 In the midst of tragedy, it is a great comfort to know Jesus wept as we weep, that indeed there are tears in heaven as there are tears on earth. We want to know God is compassionate, that the Lord of Israel suffers with us. When people gathered outside the tomb of Lazarus, some saw those tears and said, "See how Jesus loved him" (John 11:36). At the point of human brokenness, it is comforting to know the Holy One sympathizes with us.
But wait a minute. Others outside the same tomb said, "Couldn't Jesus have kept his friend from dying? Isn't there something curious about these tears?" The answer to both questions, of course, was yes. Both Martha and Mary knew it. Each came independently and said, "Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died." They knew his power. They knew Jesus could do whatever he wanted. But he did not prevent the death, just as he still doesn't keep people from dying.
That suggests a second possible explanation for his tears. According to the story, Jesus "was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved." Quite literally, "he was brimming with indignation and churning inside." Was he upset at human unbelief? No, Martha said she believed. Was he angry for not arriving soon enough? No, Jesus acted on his own timetable. What was the reason for his tears? Perhaps he was indignant at the destructive forces in creation that killed Lazarus. Elsewhere in the Gospel of John, Jesus said, "I have come to bring life, and to bring it in abundance." Yet people still die. At the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus may have wept tears of indignation.
In a small town in Pennsylvania, a twenty-year-old man died tragically. He drank too much one Saturday night. While driving home, he flipped his Jeep, causing it to explode and burst into flames. The young man died. Four days later, the funeral was muted and full of quiet tears. At the side of the grave, however, his two brothers suddenly began to weep, wail, and pound on the casket. One of them shouted at the top of his lungs, "It's not right!" In the name of Jesus Christ, the giver of abundant life, the man's brother spoke the truth.
In that light, the words "Jesus wept" sound like words of resistance. They announce how wrong it is for loved ones to die prematurely. They shake an angry fist at the forces of evil and destruction, and cry out for justice and divine restoration. When Jesus wept, therefore, he stood against the ways of death. His angry tears looked like an act of holy resistance. William Billings, a noted eighteenth century musician, put it this way:
When Jesus wept, the falling tear
In mercy flowed beyond all bound;
When Jesus groaned, a trembling fear
Seized all the guilty world around.2
The world was put on notice when Jesus arrived in Bethany that day. He wept tears of sympathy, choosing to associate himself with those who mourn. He wept tears of indignation, affirming death as our common enemy. Yet the good news is Jesus wept tears of action. It was not enough for him to weep over the world's pain, or to distinguish between God's way and the ways of the world. Jesus committed himself to make a difference in the face of death. He arrived in Bethany to offer a way out of death for people who don't know any way out.
The Gospel of John says Jesus acted, but only on his terms and only according to his timetable. When he heard Lazarus was ill, Jesus didn't drop everything and rush to the bedside of his sick friend. Instead he remained where he was for two days longer. By the time he went to Bethany, Lazarus had been stone-cold in the tomb for four days. When Jesus arrived in Bethany, he seemed strangely free from gushy sentiments or emotional entanglements. He went on his own initiative, not in response to human demand or personal request. He embodied the gracious initiative of God, who moves toward us before we ask for help, who loves us before we love him, who comes to bring abundant life even when we are captive to the ways of death.
What's more, the writer of John insists Jesus already knew what he was going to do. He had known Lazarus would die. He knew God's power would be revealed by raising Lazarus from the dead. Most of all, Jesus knew the revelation of God's power would have dangerous implications. Indeed, by raising Lazarus, he set in motion the events leading up to his own death. In Jerusalem, the religious leaders were afraid of losing control. The high council huddled in fear, afraid of Roman "involvement." The high priest concluded, "It is better that the one man Jesus should die, so the rest of us will not be destroyed."
Jesus knew this, too, and he chose to undergo death for the sake of our lives. As he says elsewhere: "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. No one takes my life from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father" (John 10:11,18).
The raising of Lazarus would lead to the death of Jesus, and Jesus knew it. When Jesus wept, he faced the inevitability of his own death. This was the Gethsemane moment in the Gospel of John. By choosing to bring Lazarus out of the tomb, Jesus chose to go into his own tomb. The One who invited potential disciples to "come and see" the works of God made known in him was invited at the tomb of Lazarus to "come and see" the inevitable consequences of his life-giving works in a world of death.3 From the beginning of time, he shared his life with the Eternal One. With tears of quiet commitment, Jesus gave the gift of his life to the world. Through the tears of his impending crucifixion we were baptized into the life of his resurrection.
The life of the Eternal One is a free gift. We participate in this eternal life by trusting Jesus, who was dead but now lives. Reflecting on the raising of Lazarus, the Episcopalian priest Robert Capon once wrote: Jesus never meets a corpse that doesn't sit up right on the spot ... They all rise not because Jesus does a number on them, not because he puts some magical resurrection machinery into gear, but simply because he has that effect on the dead. They rise because he is the Resurrection even before he himself rises -- because, in other words, he is the grand sacrament, the real presence, of the mystery of a kingdom in which everybody rises.4
Lazarus died. Jesus raised him back to life. Lazarus died again, quite possibly at the hands of those who killed Jesus.5 And the Risen Lord raised him once again. This is the good news: in all of our deadness and death, God-in-Christ raises us up and fills us with the life of eternity. Our hope is not merely a dream of resurrection on the last day, but eternal life that begins today in faith and continues on the other side of the grave.
Such life is a gift. Receiving the gift is easy. All we need to do is trust the One who says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who believes in me will never die."
Do you believe this?
1. "Tears in Heaven," Eric Clapton and Will Jennings, Unichappell Music Inc. and Blue Sky Rider Songs, 1992.
2. William Billings, "When Jesus Wept," The Presbyterian Hymnal (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1990), p. 312.
3. Fred B. Craddock, John (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), pp. 87-88.
4. Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of Judgment (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1989), p. 66.
5. See John 12:9-11.