John 11:1-44 –
An interesting point in the story about Lazarus is that he never speaks.
In fact, in all the accounts of him and his sisters with Jesus in Bethany, he never says a single word. One reason for this is that Lazarus was likely a very young man, probably still a teenager. The strong indication for this is that he still lives at home with his two apparently older sisters, who do all the speaking, and who would also then appear to be quite young and still unmarried. And the three of them appear to live in the home of Simon, for they serve at his house as if it were their own, yet it never names Simon as their father. Quite possibly they are orphans, which was very common in the day, and Simon would have been the closest relative, quite possibly an uncle. Somehow, the family was known to Jesus, for he stays with them in this village just outside of Jerusalem whenever he visits the city.
So Lazarus is a key figure in this story, but ironically, not one of the central characters. The central characters are Jesus and Lazarus’ two sisters, Mary and Martha.
The youth of Lazarus puts the concern and intense grief of his sisters in perspective. His death becomes all the more tragic. It also explains the reaction of Jesus and his disciples, who were all found of Lazarus. Indeed, when Mary and Martha write to Jesus they say ‘The one you love is sick.’
The actions and the words in this story are all those of the sisters and Jesus. The role of Lazarus, quite simply, is to take ill and tragically die.
When it is clear that Lazarus is quite sick it is Mary and Martha do the obvious thing. They reach out to Jesus.
I wonder for how many of us that is the first and obvious thing to do when confronted with crisis. Is Jesus the first person we reach out to, or more of an afterthought. ‘Oh yes, we should say a prayer too.”
And as an interesting aside here, they reach out to Jesus by writing him a letter, which indicated that they were literate, which was not common for women as that time and suggests the kind of upbringing they had in Bethany.
Jesus receives the letter, but then decides to wait two days before leaving for Betthany. And for those who find this unnecessary and unpastoral on the part of Jesus note that it is a two day journey form the part of the Jordan where John had been baptizing to Bethany. And Lazarus was already dead four days when Jesus arrived. So even if Jesus and his disciples had left immediately, they would have arrived two days after his death. In fact, the words of Jesus to his disciples before they finally leave for Bethany, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep,’ (v. 11) indicates that Jesus knew Lazarus was dead before he began the journey.
And when he arrives it is Martha who comes out to meet him with the words, ‘Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ Were these words of regret or accusation? They are certainly words of despair spoken out of grief. And meanwhile Mary ‘stayed at home’ not even coming out to greet Jesus. This a sign of her anger at the delay of Jesus. And we should not be too quick to judge either Martha or Mary for their responses to Jesus’s late arrival. Jesus certainly does not judge them. He recognises that they are within the range of emotions that quite naturally come from a place of deep grief.
After talking with Martha, Jesus calls for Mary. Note how he deals with each one individually in their grief. And when Mary arrives she says the exact same thing her sister had said. ‘Lord, if yu have been here my brother would not have died.’ (v. 32). And now it does sound even more like an accusation that when Martha had said it. But again, Jesus does not rebuke her, he does not challenge her, he does not even attempt to explain his delay. What does he do? He weeps when he sees Mary weeping (vv 33, 34). Jesus again provides a model for pastoral care for those in deep grief.
It is only after he has wept with the sisters that he asks to be taken to the tomb. In fact, when Jesus asks where Lazarus is buried, there say ‘Come and see.’ It is the final time these words will be spoken in John’s Gospel. In the early chapters they were always an invitation to come and see Jesus. Now it looks on the surface to be an invitation to Jesus to come and see Lazarus’ tomb. But as the story unfolds, we see that the words, though not their intention, are once more an invitation to comes and see Jesus.
And, of course, the rest of the story is well known. Lazarus has been dead for four days, and there is a stench when the tomb is opened. This was not mistaken case of fainting or falling into a coma. And Jesus calls out to the Father not because he needed to, but as an example to all of us, that we might believe that Jesus is God, and has the power to bring life from death. We truly do come to see Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus.
And we need to be clear here that Lazarus was not resurrected. Jesus is the first and so far only person to experiences this transformation which awaits us all. Though after four days it must have been complex, Lazarus is resuscitated. He will die again some day, but not then.
And Jesus speaks to Lazarus, the dead man, with the voice of command. ‘Lazarus, come out!’ It is not a suggestion. Who can order the dead? Who can call the dead to life? Only God himself.
And so, like with Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding in Cana, his last recorded miracle in John’s gospel is an affirmation that he is in fact none other than God dwelling among us in human flesh.
Lazarus fades from history. Today he would be an insta-celeb giving talks about his experience of life after death. People have made a fortune from 10 minutes without a heartbeat talking about what their near-death experiences. Imagine the four days. Perhaps L. had nothing to say. Remembered nothing. Perhaps he did. But the point is that the story is not about Lazarus. It never was. It is all about Jeus, his divinity, his love and care for us, his compassion, his power over life and death. It’s his last major miracle before the cross as recorded by John – and it’s a big one. John doesn’t spend as much time on the miracles of Jesus as the other gospels. But the ones he includes are highly significant, as we saw in the first miracle of Jesus at the wedding in Cana. And now this final miracle in John’s gospel is again, like the first, a clear affirmation that Jesus is more than a great prophet, more than the expected Messiah. He is God.
But there is more to the miracle than that. Like the miracle in Cana, Jesus shows compassion. But this is far bigger than the embarrassment of running out of wine at a wedding. Jesus shows genuine compassion for people in the midst of deep grief.
This final miracle of Jesus is about hope in the midst of grief. The key words in this text are those spoken to Martha, when he first arrived in Bethany, the words he spoke while her sister Mary, still upset perhaps at Jesus’ delay in coming, was waiting in the house. He says to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even though they did, and whoever lives by believing in me, will never die.’
It’s a big statement. And it is not just about Lazarus. Jesus it telling Martha a truth that is also for her, for Mary, for his disciples, for everyone who will someday follow him. It is about us. And Jesus finishes with a question that also applies to us. ‘Do you believe this?’
Martha’s response is something evasive. ‘I believe you are the Messiah,’ she says. It conveys confidence and trust in who Jesus is, but does not quite embrace and accept the full depth of what he has just told her.
Martha, in this sense is a lot like us. We believe in Jesus. We believe he is the Christ, the Messiah. But has the full truth of who he is and what he offers us really sunk in?
There is much to learn from the story of Lazarus. And none of it is about satisfying our curiosity about life after death or near-death experiences. We learn that Jesus is compassionate and cares deeply about those in grief. In fact, he weeps with us. And we learn that Jesus himself is the ultimate response to our grief. It is Jesus himself who is the resurrection and the life.
Amen.
Pastor Mark Worthing.