Jesus Raises Lazarus (MTKA)

John 11:38-53

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 for 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 upwards 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.’

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them what he had done. So the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the council, and said, ‘What are we to do? This man is performing many signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation.’ But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, ‘You know nothing at all! You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.’ He did not say this on his own, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus was about to die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the dispersed children of God. So from that day on they planned to put him to death.

A crowd of people witnesses the same event. Often they have very different responses to it. We see this in a courtroom as witnesses give conflicting testimonies; we see it as doctors arrive at different diagnoses for the same patient; we see it in the divergent paths of politicians in Washington as they try to fix our nation’s problems.

We see it also when Jesus shows up at the home of Mary and Martha. He comes in response to Lazarus’ illness. The worried sisters had sent word for him to come. Jesus was their friend. For whatever reason, though, he got delayed. And now Lazarus is dead. If you were in worship last week, you heard the story of Jesus getting agitated at the sight of Mary and others who were weeping. And soon he begins to weep too.

A number of bystanders have come to console the sisters. And people being people, they have differing reactions to it. Some are greatly moved by Jesus’ weeping: “See how much he loved him.” But others are sharply critical: “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Jesus doesn’t try to win over the skeptics. Rather, he goes to Lazarus’ tomb to do what only he is capable of doing.

As John tells the story, he makes a point of bluntly calling Lazarus “the dead man,” and on two separate occasions. When Jesus instructs the bystanders to take away the stone, Martha points out that he’s been in the tomb for four days; there’ll be a smell. Why all these details? Because in Jewish thinking at the time, the soul left the body after three days. John drives home the point that Lazarus really is dead! Whatever happens to him is no mere resuscitation. It requires resurrection. 

So, what would you have been thinking if you’d been one of those bystanders? That might depend on what you think happens when we die. Death is the darkest mystery we will ever face. We have far more questions than answers. People who’ve had a near-death experience come back telling of a tunnel with a bright light on the other side. Some see Jesus. Others don’t. They often describe the other side as a place of tranquility. So is that the answer? Is death merely a dark door into a brighter world?  

My brother-in-law, Merle, was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 1997. It came a short two years after his daughter, Corrie, was killed in a tragic car accident. It was one heart-wrenching sorrow upon another for my sister, Marie. First her college-aged daughter and now her husband. We prayed a miracle for Merle, but none came.

As the end of his life drew near, my wife, Brenda, went to South Dakota to help out. She’s a nurse. She spent time at Merle’s bedside, tending to his needs, trying to make him comfortable. Brenda stayed up the last night with him. She dozed off and on. In the middle of the night, she woke with a start, and then blinked and shook her head. There was Corrie in the room with her father, plain as day. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Corrie put her hands on the side of the bed and looked into her father’s eyes. It was as if she was trying to tell him something, perhaps to tell him that he was going to be alright. Brenda called out, “Corrie, is that you?” Corrie stayed for a moment longer and then suddenly was gone.  

To this day, Brenda finds herself wondering: Did that really happen? Was Corrie actually there in the room with them, or was it only a dream? That’s the thing about death, there are so many questions we can’t answer. We don’t get to follow Merle and Corrie and Lazarus to the other side. All we have to go on is Jesus’ slender thread of promise: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.”

Jesus goes to Lazarus’ tomb. The stone is about as heavy as Martha’s heart. “It’s been four days,” says Martha. “The body’s going to smell.” Jesus gently chides her: “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”  Believing is an important word in John’s Gospel. It’s less about understanding matters of life and death, and more about being in a relationship with Jesus, and trusting him.

Jesus stands outside “the dead man’s” tomb. I picture him brushing away tears from his eyes. Lazarus is his friend, but he’s more than that. Lazarus is a sheep in the Good Shepherd’s flock. As such, Jesus knows his name. Jesus looks upward toward heaven. He prays to the Father. And then he cries with a loud voice: “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man comes out, grave clothes and all!

Do you believe this? It’s an incredible story! Again, it’s not resuscitation; it’s resurrection. But even though Lazarus gets his life back, this is not really a story about life after death. Someday Lazarus will die again. No, this is a picture of the abundant life Jesus is offering him — and us — here and now.  

Notice that our story doesn’t end with the raising of Lazarus. Remember, people often react differently to the same event. Many of the friends and neighbors are overjoyed. They believe in Jesus. But others are openly skeptical. They go to the religious leaders — the Pharisees — and report what has happened. In turn, the Pharisees call the chief priests. They hold an emergency meeting of the Sanhedrin, their council. And why? For damage control. “If we let this Galilean continue doing things like this, pretty soon everyone will believe in him.”

Soon their sole aim is to control the information being spread about Jesus. Truth be told, it’s not so different than what’s going on in Russia these days. We’re keenly aware of the events in Ukraine. Painful as they are to watch, we can’t stop. With a free and open media, we see everything from the bombings of maternity wards, to little kids saying goodbye to their dads, to the elderly fleeing their homes with walkers. Everywhere people are hurrying to get on a bus or a train. Or, if they’re really brave or stubborn, they’re hiding out in a make-shift bomb shelter.

We see these images and are heartbroken. We so wish things could be different. We long for the Russian people to rise up and put a stop to the atrocities of President Putin and those surrounding him.

But then we remember: people often respond differently to the exact same event, especially when the information is carefully controlled. Russian citizens cannot call what’s happening in Ukraine an invasion or a war. They risk imprisonment if they do. State-controlled media carefully filters the pictures and refers to the events as a “special military operation.” And over and over they claim that it’s justified. 

Russians are fed reports that Ukraine was a victim of NATO aggression; that Ukraine was persecuting citizens who spoke Russian; that Ukraine is siding with Americans in creating chemical weapons. As we hear this, we are shocked, saddened, and terribly dismayed. Why is it so hard to get to the truth?

You may not know this, but something similar was happening when John wrote his Gospel. Israel had been invaded by the Roman army. Once they got there, they stayed for over a hundred years. Minor skirmishes broke out from time to time. Then a Jewish group called the Zealots took up arms against the Romans. It led to an all-out war. The temple was destroyed in 70AD. The capitol in Jerusalem was little more than a pile of rubble. They lost the heart and soul of their nation. Afterward, synagogues became the primary gathering place for Jewish religious life.

Into that nightmare comes people like Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. They tell the story of Jesus. As they do, they try to make sense of what’s happened. One by one they ask: do the followers of Jesus have any kind of future? Some of the Jews had come to believe that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah, but most had not. Life was incredibly complicated for the early believers. When their numbers got stronger, they were expelled from the synagogues. “You don’t belong here with us!” they heard time and again. And so, not only had they lost their temple and their homeland, but also their sense of identity. John writes his gospel in an attempt to give them hope: “Hang on,” he’s telling them, “Jesus, the Good Shepherd, knows you by name. It might feel risky to believe in him, but he’s offering you a life unlike any other. He is the resurrection and the life. You can trust him!”

Today — fortunately — we don’t face the challenges of those first-century believers who’d been expelled from the synagogue. Nor do we face the devastation and turmoil that’s brought to bear on the people of Ukraine. In humility, we are grateful for that. Still, we’re well aware that following Jesus often comes with a cost. We pledge to stand with those in Ukraine who are hurting, to pray for those whose hope seems gone, to offer what resources we can to support them. I have no doubt, Jesus continues to weep at what he sees today. It’s so very hard to get to the truth!

In a great, big messy world, truth for John is rooted in the story of Jesus. Lazarus’ death and resurrection foreshadow Jesus’ own death and resurrection. Bethany is only two miles away from Jerusalem. Jesus is ready to die not only for Jewish people, but for all people everywhere. 

Friends, whatever troubles you’re experiencing these days, here’s some truth to bank on: Jesus is the Good Shepherd. He knows your name. He’s willing to lay down his life for every last one of us. And nothing, not even death, can separate us from his love. Amen.