Grace to you and peace from Jesus Christ, who raises the dead. Amen.
What strikes me about this text this time around — we’ve seen this before and there’s so much here — but what strikes me now, is that Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life” not at the end, after Lazarus is all raised and showered and fresh and alive, but when death is stinking and things are at their worst.
There’s a scene right at the beginning of the next chapter where Jesus is actually sitting at a banquet table with Lazarus and Mary and Martha. Everyone’s together, food is being served, wine is being poured. You can easily imagine the good smells and the hearty laughter at the table one chapter past this point. But that’s not where Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life...everyone who lives in me will never die.” Jesus says this, at exactly the moment when Lazarus is stone cold dead, 4-stinkin’-days-dead in the tomb, when Martha comes at him in bitterness and blame: “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” (And of course, beneath the anger is always sadness and fear.)
Friends in Christ, Jesus isn’t just with us in the banquet times — the parties, and the family feasts, and the full sanctuaries — Jesus is with us through it all. Jesus doesn’t say “I am the resurrection and the life” at the sun-shiny glorious end: he says it right smack in the cloudy-cold-muddy middle.
And we’re in the middle now. In the cloudy-cold-muddy middle. Deep in the muddy valley. Shadows and fears all around. Slogging through our days. Anxious and angry. Sad and afraid.
We’re right smack in the middle of it, these days. In this unprecedented season of Lent, this quarantine, this Covid-19 nightmare. We’ll never forget this time. But, friends, we have a God who is here with us, in it.
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And this God, this one Jesus Christ does several things with us, in the cloudy-cold-muddy middle: First of all, Jesus weeps.
What is that about?! Especially in the Gospel of John!?
If you’ve been listening to my interpretations of John’s Gospel over the months, I continually find Jesus to be completely in control, cool and calm. He loves everyone, but I haven’t seen him lose it before. After all, Jesus is all divine. There’s no question about that, according to John. All these signs, all these miracles (last week: blind man...feeding 5000, walks on water) all these signs all point to his divinity.
So what’s he cryin’ about!? He has the power to raise Lazarus!
If any of us had the power to raise the dead, if I had the power to raise the dead, I’d show up to your house after the death of your loved one, and I’d be like, “Step aside everyone! Check this out!” I don’t think tears would be my issue. If we had dead-raising powers, we might be serious and stoic, maybe for dramatic effect, but we’d know we had a miracle up our sleeve. I’m being trite. Here’s my point:
Jesus, on the other hand, weeps! Ponder that this week, this long season of quarantine. I think one could write a doctoral dissertation on this shortest verse in all of Scripture, especially because it’s John’s Gospel, where Jesus is all in control and calm. I don’t have the answer as to what that’s all about, but I will say: Jesus weeping points to Divinity also.
This is not counted as one of the 7 signs, but I think it should be: What kind of a God cries?!
Ours does. Tears say, “I’m with you.” Ever been with a friend when you were really hurting, who didn’t have an answer or any wise words, but just started crying with you? I’ve never felt so heard, so understood, so accompanied, so embraced.
Did you see these clips of Hoda on the “TODAY Show”? Always so professional, so scripted and in control. This week...after talking with Drew Brees how kindness is also contagious and both saying “We love you” to each other...she just lost it.
And that’s just a tiny glimpse of our God, who so deeply and completely hears, understands, accompanies and loves us. Maybe that’s what those tears were about...
Christ is here, right smack in the middle of our pain, of our sorrow, of our fear, of our losses, of our anxieties and of our tears. All this happens — not after the raising and unbinding — but before it, when things really, literally stink! God is there, present, loving, weeping. Never felt so embraced.
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And then, the final sign — the raising of Lazarus is the final sign of the Gospel of John. The whole second half of the book of John is the Passion narrative. So this is it, and what a finale this is to (what’s been called) the Book of Signs, the first half of John’s Gospel!
Hearken back to the first sign, when Jesus turned the water to wine back in Chapter 2 of John: Mary, who was there then and is here at the tomb of Lazarus as well (and will be at the cross), said back at the wedding, “Do whatever he tells you.” Do you remember that? She said this to the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.”
As Jesus’ seven signs unfold through John’s narrative, Jesus is always giving a command, telling his “sheep” to do something:
whether it’s “fill the jars with water,” or “take up your mat and walk,” or “gather whatever food is left over,” “go wash in the pool of Sent”...and today, “Lazarus, come out!...Unbind him and let him go!”
Let’s heed Mary’s advice: “Do whatever Jesus tells you.” Why? Because when we do what Jesus tells us to do, good things happen…that is, God’s glory is revealed. When we listen, when we trust, then we see and walk and eat and rise from the dead...and finally understand.
We’re all sheep of the Good Shepherd, remember? And sometimes we go astray. And God’s gonna love us and forgive us even when we fail miserably at listening, trusting, seeing and understanding Jesus (that’s the trust of Luke’s Gospel: God’s gonna hold us no matter what)…
But our life becomes abundant when we follow Mary’s advice, and “do whatever Christ tells us to do.” Today: Come out!
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Not only has Jesus given sight to the blind, health to the sick, food to the hungry, and brought a crazy-good party to the wedding feast in Cana...and to all our feasts and party days over the years, right?! (In these isolating days, I hope you’re doing some good reflecting and giving thanks for all the blessings of family and community during these days when we’re cut off from that. I’m going through a lot of pictures and videos of good times.) Not only has Christ done all this, given us all this, he even raises the dead!
He even brings us through our valleys, through our losses, through our pain, definitely through our tears, through death itself, and gives us life, and life abundant...not just ventilator life, but family and friends and laughter and banquet tables.
This life is ours even now, even in the mud — not just at the Great Feast That is To Come — this “resurrection and life” is ours right now, right smack in the middle. Right here in our valley of the shadow of death, the Shepherd is with us.
Now that’s something worth celebrating! That’s not just a silver lining: That’s the center. That’s the center of our gathering. That’s the center of our faith. That’s the center of our hope. That’s the rock in a weary land. That’s the cross.
This life abundant, this abiding Jesus, this raising of the dead, this coming out, this rock in a weary land is yours today,
and through this valley.
and always.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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