John 11:1-44
Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “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.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”
When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
As good as it is, I don’t think the most important thing about this story has as much to do with the miracle of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, as we might believe. I might be wrong about that, but it’s not the most important thing for me, at least, for a couple of reasons.
First of all, I don’t think Lazarus’ resuscitation is the most meaningful thing about it all partly because it doesn’t happen often enough in ways we wish it would, or think it should – or maybe even deserve, sometimes – as far as I’m concerned. Who hasn’t wished, hoped and prayed for someone you love to have a second chance to live again after a disease or an accident or even after a long life, well-lived? We would almost always call on Jesus, just like Martha and Mary did, to do for our loved ones, just what he did for Lazarus. Would we not? But I haven’t heard of many successful returns on that investment.
And the second reason I’m not sure Lazarus’ walk from the tomb is the most important thing about it all is that – as marvelous and miraculous as that magic trick must have been to witness – and for us to wonder about, still – it didn’t last forever. Lazarus died again, eventually, so there’s that. Bah humbug. And for that reason, some people consider all of this more of a resuscitation than a resurrection, but that may be splitting theological hairs.
So I always have to remind myself that this story may not be as much about resurrection from the dead as I’m inclined to think, at first. Maybe it doesn’t have so much to do with Jesus’ power to give physical life back to someone who has lost it. After all, what we’ve heard about this morning isn’t the be-all and end-all of resurrection stories, remember. We’ll hear about that one in a couple of weeks on Easter Sunday.
So what could be the point – other than that resurrection stuff? Where is some meaning here I can sink my teeth into?
I’m thinking maybe it has as much, or more, to do with new life as we know it – right here for those of us still living, moving and breathing in the world, on this side of our respective graves. What Jesus shows us – and what he shows Lazarus, and the sisters, Mary and Martha, and anyone else who was watching that day outside of Bethany – is that tombs aren’t just for dead people. (That sounds like a commercial doesn’t it? “Tombs – they’re not just for dead people anymore!”)
See, you might say the disciples are living in their own kind of naïve tombs about the fullness of Jesus’ ministry – trying to protect Jesus at every turn and not understanding what it means to walk in the light, in spite of the darkness around them. Mary and Martha were living in tombs of grief and despair and blame and lack of faith about what had happened – missing their brother, angry at God, frustrated with Jesus, and all that goes along with that. And of course, there was the crowd from town, presumably mixed with people of all kinds living in all sorts of proverbial tombs – some curious, some suspicious, some apparently murderous – over all they’d heard and seen from Jesus up until now.
So, what about us? If tombs aren’t just for dead people, where do they show up in our lives and what are they doing there? Like so much else when it comes to the faith we wrestle with, there are as many answers as there are people to ask those hard questions.
So, I wonder where are our tombs? What is it that keeps us from really living – right here, right now?
- Maybe it’s an addiction or a bad relationship
- Maybe it’s fear of failure or fear of success
- Maybe it’s some kind of bigotry or a lack of information or a lack of faith
- Maybe it’s something in our past or something in our present or something we know is on the way
What kind of caves are we afraid to come out of?
- a cave that’s comfortable because we’ve been in there for a while?
- a cave that seems like the right place to be only because we’ve never known anything different?
- a cave that holds a secret or two no one else knows and that we’re too afraid to tell?
What is it that we find ourselves buried beneath?
- Work or family obligations?
- School or stereotypes?
- Debt? … doubt?
- Guilt? … shame?
- Bad decisions? … bad luck?
Maybe it’s something you can’t even put a name on. There are all sorts of things in our lives and in the world that keep us entombed and buried and anything but living the life that God would have for us.
And the more time I spend with people – particularly for some reason, people like us in the Church – the more it seems to me that God’s greater challenge isn’t to raise us from the dead once we’ve stopped breathing. It seems sometimes like the greater miracle is for God to wake us up and call us out of the graveyards of our Habit and Tradition; to carry us out of cemeteries of Comfort, and Complacency and Low Expectations; to dig us out of tombs of Hopelessness, Sadness and Despair.
But that’s what I see God doing this morning – as much for Mary, Martha and the people of Bethany, all of whom were alive and breathing – as for Lazarus, who was dead as a doornail, and starting to decay!
He calls them all out of their tombs and invites them to live again, differently, on the other side. So maybe that’s the invitation we’re all called to hear, to wonder about, and to pray for faith and courage enough to respond to every day – and maybe, especially – as we head into these remaining days of Lent this time around.
From what …
Out of what …
Toward what … are you being called?
“Come out” of what’s expected and do that thing, volunteer for that project, get involved in that ministry, sign up for that class, take or leave that job, finally.
“Come out” of what’s always been safe and comfortable. Give away that gift or offer up your time or extend that mercy.
“Come out” of your pride and ask for help or ask for direction or ask for forgiveness.
We all have things that keep us entombed – that keep us in the dark – that keep us locked up or locked away from what God would have us do or be or become. This morning – and every day that we gather around Word and sacrament and in the presence of one another – we are hearing God’s call to us…
…to come out of our tombs. …to step into God’s light. …to throw off the darkness and the trappings that tie us up and keep us down and prevent us from living most fully, as God intends.
So, as we wait and long and hope for Easter, let’s plan to “come out, come out from where ever we are.” Let’s hear God calling our name in a way we haven’t before. Let’s accept the invitation for a change and step into a new way of living right where we are.
Let’s be unbound by the good news that even though tombs may not be just for dead people anymore, neither are things like resurrection and new life and second-chances. We all stand to be revived, resuscitated, raised up in some way to get a taste of everlasting life – not just after we die – but on this side of heaven, too, thanks to the grace we share and that calls us by name, in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen
