So the people, who were with Him when He called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead, continued to testify about Him.” John 12:17
LAZARUS
(John 11:1-53)
I What is there that can diminish the sorrow of loss when one whom we’ve loved dies? Sorrow, oh sorrow deep! Our brother, Lazarus is dead! Emptiness has entered the house. There is only the sound of wailing. The rooms are redolent with frankincense and myrrh. We pray the Kaddish, make the preparations for the meal that will be served to those who come to help us bury him. “If only his friend had been here, He would not have died,” We say to one another. If only…If only… Is our desperate prayer.
II “Rabbi, If you had been here my brother would not have died.” “Martha, he will rise again.” “Yes, I know this, Rabbi. At the Resurrection.” “I am the one who raises the dead. Do you believe me, Martha?” “Yes, Master. Oh, yes, I believe. I know you and with all my heart I believe in you.” Then, Jesus wept.
III The crowd gathered before the tomb desperate with terrible grief and loss. Then they heard Martha and Mary’s friend, the one they called, Jesus, ordering some of the men to remove the heavy stone that had been placed at the entrance to the sepulcher some days ago. Confused and wary they rolled it back. The dark heart of the death-ditch was then revealed to us all. Some of us fell back for fear of the stench we thought would emanate from the grave, but a fresh breeze wafted out instead. A breathless silence fell over us. Then, with a voice full of authority, Jesus spoke, and everything came alive around us…
“Lazarus, come out!” As if one, we sucked in a surprised breath. There, standing in the cave’s dark maw, was the grave-wrapped Lazarus strait, tall, his face still covered in cloth. “Remove his bindings. Set him free.” A young man stepped forward awkwardly and nervously took the wrappings away then stumbled back and we all could see… The look in Lazarus’ eyes wide with wonder, struck all of us dumb. There he was! Life breathing in him, The spirit-spark in his eyes. We rushed to him, our faces streaming tears.
In the days that followed we talked excitedly about this miracle that we had all been witness to. And, still, many could not believe in their weary and frightened hearts that this son of an old carpenter from Nazareth, this wandering rabbi, Jesus, might be the one we have been waiting for since the time of Moses and the prophets. But some of us knew that this Jesus, who had come so gently, yet so powerfully among us, was, indeed, the Messiah of God and we began to tell everyone we met what we had seen him do for Lazarus, our friend.
Lazarus lived on for many years and never tired of telling the story. in hushed and awe-filled tones. And we never tired of listening. Lazarus was a man of gentle knowledge, of abiding faith, and of quiet strength. He told us over and over again that we were loved by one who knows our hearts, and who despises not our petitions, and that we would never be alone. We began going to the synagogue differently. We listened to the words the Rabbi read from the ancient prophets more closely and we were moved in our hearts and minds.
At long last, Lazarus died and we wept for sorrow again. But we knew in our depths that he was not dead, that the Resurrection promised by the prophets is real, that death no longer holds sway over our simple lives, and that we will see each other again in the world to come.
Amen
