03 Nov SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2024
Listen to the bold statement that Mary initially makes: How sure she is that things would have turned out differently if only Jesus had been present. Mary states, without a doubt, that if Jesus had been present where she and her brother were, if Jesus had been in the same place to witness what she witnessed, sickness which led to the death of her brother and Jesus’ beloved friend would not have resulted in death.
Mary is convinced in both her heart and mind that had Jesus been there, he would have acted a certain way. He would have prevented the awful fate of death from happening. Had he only been where she was, Jesus would surely have relieved their suffering, reversed the outcome, provided comfort along the way and healed her family members in need.
But why would Mary be so confident in making such a bold statement and be sure of her belief? Because she knew that her family was special to Jesus? Because they had all been close friends and associates? Because their families went way back and spent a lot of time together? If so, Mary was caught in the same web of thinking many Christians get caught up in: Interpreting good outcomes versus bad ones based on standing or relationship to God.
It’s human nature to do so. Psalmists do it all the time. They often speak boldly about who they think deserves to receive blessings. Just today we heard that those of innocent hands and pure hearts, who do not swear on God’s being nor pledge by what is false, shall receive blessing and righteousness from God. In other words, whoever does what is good, and abides by what God says, heeds his commandments and seeks to remain in a rightly oriented relationship are entitled to have certain expectations.
Because they feel as though they’ve done things to please God, then they deserve special treatment. I see this play out on both sides of the religious fence as a chaplain in the hospital. Those who already experience closeness to God either subtly or blatantly expect favorable response to prayer. While those who deny or claim no prior relationship expect no such favor. In fact, they often have no use for a chaplain since they feel no religious ties. They may even apologize for receiving unmerited spiritual consideration or act undeserving of God’s attention.
Others claim deference through a unique relationship to Jesus, a friendship spanning years. They reference times of being faithful or hospitable, supportive of God’s cause, understanding of God’s will, indulgent, obedient, giving of their time and energy, investing themselves over and over toward a kind of compensatory arrangement with benefits. The idea of merit: the deserving or undeserving pendulum of fate seems to swing over everything that human beings do or experience.
But let’s flip this premise on its head and make what Mary says more about God. Because what if Mary’s statement about how things would have turned out differently is really all about who Jesus is? About him being the one who always understands the gravity of every situation?
Who even, when to us, is not visibly present, is always aware of all that’s being threatened by an occasion of sickness or death. For Jesus can be trusted to understand the toll that sickness and death take from us: the expense to people’s relationships, the cost incurred physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually, the loss of companionship, finances and previous ways of being.
We know that Jesus experiences more than sympathy: a kind of once-removed feeling of sorrow or pity, where we feel sorry for what others are going through. Instead, Jesus feels empathy for Mary and her family. He actively listens to what Mary and the others have to say. He picks up on how they’re feeling and asks follow-up questions.
He cries after seeing Mary and the Jews who came with her cry. He is greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He wants to respond immediately to their collective mental anguish and emotional pain, so he asks, “Where have you laid him?”
He responds specifically by addressing Mary’s original concern: The idea of Jesus being present and right there in the midst of where people suffer. These are the worst parts of suffering: feeling alone and in pain. Feeling as though nothing we or anyone can do will make a difference or change the dreaded outcome. The worst parts of grief are getting stuck in cycles of misery, lost in feelings about ever being able to go back and experience what was once cherished and in our grasp.
They said, “Lord, come and see.” The characters in this gospel story teach us that during moments in which we seek the Lord, we reach turning points. The moments that we honestly answer questions posed by God are turning points. The moments we invite Jesus to come and see all that troubles us, Jesus weeps with us. He himself becomes greatly disturbed at how devastated we are, he remembers how cruel death can be, and how awful it is for those who love to suffer loss.
Some bystanding Jews ask, “Couldn’t he have prevented this man from dying?” Don’t we ask the same? Couldn’t God, who we have seen work other miracles, have prevented this death from occurring?” Couldn’t he? Surely, he could have. Why didn’t he? How can we reconcile the fact that God chose not to spare those he loves or those we love from death?
The only reconciliation available is seen by what happens next. Through this gospel story, we discover that death and separation were never meant to be permanent states. That regardless of a body failing, or our failings, however we have experienced destruction or decay, however things in life have succumbed to negative forces of will or nature which overwhelmed life itself and caused all things to stop working for good, Jesus will have the last word.
He alone has the power to overturn and reverse all damage: the pain and suffering of loss. Our tears can’t do it. Depriving ourselves of joy can’t do it. Jesus is not afraid to command the stone to be rolled away. He finds nothing about the human condition disgusting. His senses are not awfully bombarded. He is not deterred.
Jesus says to Mary, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” Do as God tells you. Take away the stone between you and your loved one. See and hear Jesus look upward and say, “Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me, but I say this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.”
May we always believe and never forget that Jesus was sent as God in the flesh to be present with us, to experience everything human beings go through, to assure us that he does understand and feels what we feel. He is not powerless in the face of tragedy and loss. He is not a third-party observer or bystander of the human condition. He insists on changing the outcome of death and reversing its devastating effects.
Jesus cried with a loud voice for Lazarus to come out. And the dead man came out, his hands and feet bound and his face wrapped in cloth. What, pray tell, has got you bound up? What keeps you from going only so far, from only giving so much? What hinders you being free to love or live to the fullest extent?
Oftentimes, it is something that caused you to suffer a terrible loss or to experience a horrible event. We cannot unbind ourselves. We can only go so far at the beckoning of Christ. After that Jesus requires us to lend each other aid. Jesus says to the crowd, “Unbind him, and let him go.” Notice that Jesus isn’t real specific.
He doesn’t say, “Get some bandage scissors and cut those dressings.” He doesn’t say, “Rip the strips of cloth or unwind them carefully.” Jesus simply gives these instructions, “Unbind your loved one or friend; then let them go.”
For once unbound with your help, they will once again be free. You will see that they have a renewed and reclaimed energy for life. They may continue with God’s provision to live again. We have God’s permission to live again beyond the point of death.
As for poor Lazarus, he would have to die again eventually. In fact from the moment his life was restored, it was threatened to be taken away by authorities who wanted to do away with him. Him being alive was a testimony to Jesus’ ability to restore a person back to life from the dead or because of death.
Think about it. Every person who experiences loss has had their own life threatened. How we live after that, how we live on the other side of death becomes a testimony not unlike that of Lazarus.
How can our lives testify to how Jesus willingly restores and renews belief in his presence and trust in the power he wields, the power of his love throughout our lifetimes, in the midst of tragedy, during times of heartache, through turning points, moments where we glimpses joy again and become satisfied with the knowledge of promised eventual and eternal reunion.
Let us pray. Yes, Lord. We have experienced loss and pain. At one time we counted on you to be present and save us from feeling the worst of human suffering because we trusted that you would spare us from what we forgot is unfortunately a point upon our path of destiny: death of the body, separation from loved ones, the agony of being mortal and limited in our human capacities.
Make us more like you, able to show up and be present, to cry with and alongside of others, to seek the Father’s understanding of power and glory, and to do our part to loosen and unbind what keeps anyone else from experiencing true freedom and a full life. In your holy name we pray for mercy and consolation, for communion with the saints and for overflowing confidence in you. Amen.