New Life For A Dead Friend
Preaching
The Miracles Of Jesus And Their Flip Side
Miracle narratives from the Revised Common Lectionary with a fresh look at the other side of the story
The stench of death surrounded Christ's sorrow, crying
with sisters' disappointment in him very moving,
from the dead Lazarus and new life requisitioned.
Our call comes to exit the dark caves which entomb us.
Some scholars try to explain this extraordinary Bethany story with terms like: a trance, a hoax, allegory, teaching amplification of Dives and Lazarus, and a whole bunch of other rationalizations. I'll admit I'm not sure what all happened those four days at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus either. But I am sure it was of great magnitude and consequence for them and for us here now.
This home was where Jesus went sometimes when he had business three miles away in Jerusalem. It was a retreat for him and his disciples when they needed some peace and quiet and good, warm friendship.
Lazarus was a good friend. Some think he was the beloved disciple the scripture talks about. When he became ill, his sisters sent word to Jesus. But Jesus did not go to him right away, perhaps because his critics had tried to explain away the other miracles of life for the dead, like the daughter of Jairus or the widow's son at Nain. Because they said these people really hadn't died yet, Jesus decided to let Lazarus die and be dead before he came to do anything about it. Or perhaps it was simply a matter of having such pressing crowds and needs of others that he simply, like we do on occasion, waited too long.
What one of us hasn't waited too long to come to the aid of a friend only to find when we did that it was sadly too, too late? And how much that hurts when we realize we have let down a friend who was counting on us.
In Palestine, there was no waiting for burial. Because of the hot climate, the decay was quick and the dead were buried on the day they died. So when Jesus did arrive, his friend had been dead and buried already four days. Martha and Mary told him the grim news. He must have felt terrible. In fact, John says, "Jesus wept" (John 11:35). It's the shortest verse in the Bible. Just two words, but it tells us so much about God and about our relationship to God. I have quoted it so often by grave side or at the foot of the casket, for this tells us we are loved. It tells us God, because of Jesus, knows what it is to lose a loved one. One of the greatest things Jesus did was to bring us the news of a God who cares. That's comforting to me. When I cried at our oldest son's burial, at my mother's funeral, and at the memorial service of my best friend, it helped a lot to know not only that they are okay in their life beyond their graves, but that God knows how much it hurts to lose a loved one.
To the Greeks for whom this Gospel of John was written, this was a delightful surprise. Up until that time they thought of God as unfeeling and without compassion. What a different picture of God Jesus proclaims with his tears! Here is one who really cares. Here is one who feels the agony and pain. Here is a God who even knows what it's like to disappoint someone who was counting on him. Hear again the poignant words of Mary, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:32b). Those mourners standing nearby said, "See how he loved him!" (John 11:36).
That's the way it ought to be. People who loved them gathering to give loving comfort and support when into their midst the Christ came, feeling the pain, loss, and disappointment and being, according to John, "... deeply moved in spirit" (John 11:33b). And crying. Since that day in Bethany at the home of Mary and Martha and Jesus' beloved disciple, we now will never have to face the loss of death alone.
And there is hope. It is a hope which is definite and encouraging. It looks like John told this story to make sure we know that Jesus demonstrated what it's like in God's kingdom and that he assures those who would read about it that death is not the end. The miracle of Lazarus' resurrection surely points us to Easter a few days later a few miles from there. John no doubt saw what happened that day as a proof that what Isaiah had promised years before was now taking place.
"On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples ... he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces"
(Isaiah 25:7-8).
It was a deliberate act claiming Jesus as Lord and brought many, many Jews to praise this Lord on Palm Sunday. It also, according to John, put in motion what eventually brought about the crucifixion of Jesus on the Friday next.
The die was cast. When they heard that many Jews put their faith in him, those who were threatened by this testimony of who Jesus was and what he could do had seen and heard enough. They said, "Here is this man performing many miraculous signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation" (John 11:47b-48).
Picture the contrasting scene. There were mourners crying, wailing, and shrieking almost hysterically. Jesus arrived and both Mary and Martha told him in bitter disappointment that he was too late. He was so troubled and moved he cried. Then they went to that cave-like tomb you can still see at Bethany. The round stone sealing the entrance is rolled in its groove to open the grave. Martha gasped out a warning that by now there would be an awful stink from the decaying body. But Jesus persisted because he wanted them to see God's glory. And they did see God's glory like never, ever before! There was a spine-tingling anticipation and then the story rushed to a dramatic conclusion.
Listen to John's own words in describing what happened: "... Jesus called out in a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out!' The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, 'Take off the grave clothes and let him go' " (John 11:43-44).
So those who expected a motionless, rotting corpse saw instead, stumbling out of that dark rock-hewn inner chamber, a vital living man still wrapped in strips of cloth, pulling them off so he could see, walk, and live again. It must have been an astonishing sight, seeing this alive-again body pulling off the burial wrappings so he could move freely once more.
Think what that sight meant to his sisters, Mary and Martha, and think how grand it must have been for Jesus to see the man so dear to him coming out. But, most of all, think what this traumatic event was like for Lazarus!
And that's the other side of this miracle which took place in Jerusalem's little suburb now called Azariyeh, which is derived from the name Lazarus. There is a secondary message here, in addition to those of God caring about us, death not being the end -- we do have a resurrection and a glimpse of God's glory. I like best the part about this man responding to Jesus and coming out of the cave which had entombed him.
Would you consider this flip side of the Bethany miracle with me for a few moments? It's probably not what will be emphasized in many pulpits today, but perhaps very important for us and our congregation.
There is help for us when (and as) we are entombed in our own lives in our little towns and big cities today. And there are many caves from which we need to hear Jesus call us to come out. We too, like Lazarus, whose common name was Eleazar (meaning God helps), have need to come out of our caves of darkness and take off the grave clothes to be freed and let go.
There is something about our culture, modern lifestyle, and basic human nature which allows us to be entombed by a sort of death while still alive. We also need a Savior who calls us out of our graves and caves. Today I especially think of addictions which are so seductive and would wrap us in grave clothes and imprison us in narrow black caves, restricting our potential of being the full, loving person God would have us be.
There is the cave of hunger for power which opposes God so effectively to entomb us. There is that awful addiction to drugs which distorts how we and life can be, engulfing us in the wrappings of death. Then there is perhaps the most deadly one of all in our U.S. culture: the addiction to wealth which entombs us into false priorities of greed. There is that attractive lust for sexual pleasure outside our marriage covenant which kills our relationship of fidelity with our spouse. And, of course, everywhere in the world and certainly in Bethany today, there is always present the narrow cave of racial prejudice which perverts love of neighbor and richness of the diversity of God's creation into a morbid hate which destroys us even more than its object.
To all these and whatever else imprisons us, this story says on the flip side that with Jesus' help we can, like his dear friend Lazarus, hear the call: "... come out! ... Take off the grave clothes and let him go" (John 11:43b, 44b).
I sense a certain new freedom of movement and being for Lazarus which is also available to us because the story really didn't stop at Bethany. On the Sunday of the Passion, Jesus and the disciples went on to Jerusalem, then to the cross, then from another very similar grave (I wonder if Lazarus was there to call him out?), then perhaps best of all to return in spirit to make available to us this God's glory and power, demonstrated so long ago.
It is only with this available equipment for life which the spirit gives us that we can hear the voice calling us out and we can break loose from those things of sin which want to entomb us.
Let that be our prayer today and this week: we rejoice that we have eternal life; we celebrate having a loving, caring, forgiving God with us; we enjoy the glory of that God witnessed here.
And on the flip side, we are called out of our tombs of sin to a new life with other disciples and the Christ who says, "I am the resurrection and the life. He (or she) who believes in me will live ..." (John 11:25).
I, with John, would have told us just a little more of the story and about Lazarus' life after this resurrection. Was he there shouting hallelujah on Palm Sunday? Was he there when Judas betrayed Jesus, and did he stand by Peter when he tried to defend him in the garden? Did he and his sisters go that Easter night to the upper room to be with the other believers? And on Pentecost, was he one of those preaching like tongues of fire? Do you suppose Mary, Martha, and Lazarus started meetings in their home for believers? And the second time he died, do you suppose there was a low moan from him which said, "Been there, done that!"?
Let the scholars debate whether it's a trance or a hoax, allegory or other theories to explain it away. You and I and John know something tremendous happened that day in Bethany, and it gives us renewed hope and changed lives even today as we hear the call, "Come out and take off your grave clothes and live!"
with sisters' disappointment in him very moving,
from the dead Lazarus and new life requisitioned.
Our call comes to exit the dark caves which entomb us.
Some scholars try to explain this extraordinary Bethany story with terms like: a trance, a hoax, allegory, teaching amplification of Dives and Lazarus, and a whole bunch of other rationalizations. I'll admit I'm not sure what all happened those four days at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus either. But I am sure it was of great magnitude and consequence for them and for us here now.
This home was where Jesus went sometimes when he had business three miles away in Jerusalem. It was a retreat for him and his disciples when they needed some peace and quiet and good, warm friendship.
Lazarus was a good friend. Some think he was the beloved disciple the scripture talks about. When he became ill, his sisters sent word to Jesus. But Jesus did not go to him right away, perhaps because his critics had tried to explain away the other miracles of life for the dead, like the daughter of Jairus or the widow's son at Nain. Because they said these people really hadn't died yet, Jesus decided to let Lazarus die and be dead before he came to do anything about it. Or perhaps it was simply a matter of having such pressing crowds and needs of others that he simply, like we do on occasion, waited too long.
What one of us hasn't waited too long to come to the aid of a friend only to find when we did that it was sadly too, too late? And how much that hurts when we realize we have let down a friend who was counting on us.
In Palestine, there was no waiting for burial. Because of the hot climate, the decay was quick and the dead were buried on the day they died. So when Jesus did arrive, his friend had been dead and buried already four days. Martha and Mary told him the grim news. He must have felt terrible. In fact, John says, "Jesus wept" (John 11:35). It's the shortest verse in the Bible. Just two words, but it tells us so much about God and about our relationship to God. I have quoted it so often by grave side or at the foot of the casket, for this tells us we are loved. It tells us God, because of Jesus, knows what it is to lose a loved one. One of the greatest things Jesus did was to bring us the news of a God who cares. That's comforting to me. When I cried at our oldest son's burial, at my mother's funeral, and at the memorial service of my best friend, it helped a lot to know not only that they are okay in their life beyond their graves, but that God knows how much it hurts to lose a loved one.
To the Greeks for whom this Gospel of John was written, this was a delightful surprise. Up until that time they thought of God as unfeeling and without compassion. What a different picture of God Jesus proclaims with his tears! Here is one who really cares. Here is one who feels the agony and pain. Here is a God who even knows what it's like to disappoint someone who was counting on him. Hear again the poignant words of Mary, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:32b). Those mourners standing nearby said, "See how he loved him!" (John 11:36).
That's the way it ought to be. People who loved them gathering to give loving comfort and support when into their midst the Christ came, feeling the pain, loss, and disappointment and being, according to John, "... deeply moved in spirit" (John 11:33b). And crying. Since that day in Bethany at the home of Mary and Martha and Jesus' beloved disciple, we now will never have to face the loss of death alone.
And there is hope. It is a hope which is definite and encouraging. It looks like John told this story to make sure we know that Jesus demonstrated what it's like in God's kingdom and that he assures those who would read about it that death is not the end. The miracle of Lazarus' resurrection surely points us to Easter a few days later a few miles from there. John no doubt saw what happened that day as a proof that what Isaiah had promised years before was now taking place.
"On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples ... he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces"
(Isaiah 25:7-8).
It was a deliberate act claiming Jesus as Lord and brought many, many Jews to praise this Lord on Palm Sunday. It also, according to John, put in motion what eventually brought about the crucifixion of Jesus on the Friday next.
The die was cast. When they heard that many Jews put their faith in him, those who were threatened by this testimony of who Jesus was and what he could do had seen and heard enough. They said, "Here is this man performing many miraculous signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation" (John 11:47b-48).
Picture the contrasting scene. There were mourners crying, wailing, and shrieking almost hysterically. Jesus arrived and both Mary and Martha told him in bitter disappointment that he was too late. He was so troubled and moved he cried. Then they went to that cave-like tomb you can still see at Bethany. The round stone sealing the entrance is rolled in its groove to open the grave. Martha gasped out a warning that by now there would be an awful stink from the decaying body. But Jesus persisted because he wanted them to see God's glory. And they did see God's glory like never, ever before! There was a spine-tingling anticipation and then the story rushed to a dramatic conclusion.
Listen to John's own words in describing what happened: "... Jesus called out in a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out!' The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, 'Take off the grave clothes and let him go' " (John 11:43-44).
So those who expected a motionless, rotting corpse saw instead, stumbling out of that dark rock-hewn inner chamber, a vital living man still wrapped in strips of cloth, pulling them off so he could see, walk, and live again. It must have been an astonishing sight, seeing this alive-again body pulling off the burial wrappings so he could move freely once more.
Think what that sight meant to his sisters, Mary and Martha, and think how grand it must have been for Jesus to see the man so dear to him coming out. But, most of all, think what this traumatic event was like for Lazarus!
And that's the other side of this miracle which took place in Jerusalem's little suburb now called Azariyeh, which is derived from the name Lazarus. There is a secondary message here, in addition to those of God caring about us, death not being the end -- we do have a resurrection and a glimpse of God's glory. I like best the part about this man responding to Jesus and coming out of the cave which had entombed him.
Would you consider this flip side of the Bethany miracle with me for a few moments? It's probably not what will be emphasized in many pulpits today, but perhaps very important for us and our congregation.
There is help for us when (and as) we are entombed in our own lives in our little towns and big cities today. And there are many caves from which we need to hear Jesus call us to come out. We too, like Lazarus, whose common name was Eleazar (meaning God helps), have need to come out of our caves of darkness and take off the grave clothes to be freed and let go.
There is something about our culture, modern lifestyle, and basic human nature which allows us to be entombed by a sort of death while still alive. We also need a Savior who calls us out of our graves and caves. Today I especially think of addictions which are so seductive and would wrap us in grave clothes and imprison us in narrow black caves, restricting our potential of being the full, loving person God would have us be.
There is the cave of hunger for power which opposes God so effectively to entomb us. There is that awful addiction to drugs which distorts how we and life can be, engulfing us in the wrappings of death. Then there is perhaps the most deadly one of all in our U.S. culture: the addiction to wealth which entombs us into false priorities of greed. There is that attractive lust for sexual pleasure outside our marriage covenant which kills our relationship of fidelity with our spouse. And, of course, everywhere in the world and certainly in Bethany today, there is always present the narrow cave of racial prejudice which perverts love of neighbor and richness of the diversity of God's creation into a morbid hate which destroys us even more than its object.
To all these and whatever else imprisons us, this story says on the flip side that with Jesus' help we can, like his dear friend Lazarus, hear the call: "... come out! ... Take off the grave clothes and let him go" (John 11:43b, 44b).
I sense a certain new freedom of movement and being for Lazarus which is also available to us because the story really didn't stop at Bethany. On the Sunday of the Passion, Jesus and the disciples went on to Jerusalem, then to the cross, then from another very similar grave (I wonder if Lazarus was there to call him out?), then perhaps best of all to return in spirit to make available to us this God's glory and power, demonstrated so long ago.
It is only with this available equipment for life which the spirit gives us that we can hear the voice calling us out and we can break loose from those things of sin which want to entomb us.
Let that be our prayer today and this week: we rejoice that we have eternal life; we celebrate having a loving, caring, forgiving God with us; we enjoy the glory of that God witnessed here.
And on the flip side, we are called out of our tombs of sin to a new life with other disciples and the Christ who says, "I am the resurrection and the life. He (or she) who believes in me will live ..." (John 11:25).
I, with John, would have told us just a little more of the story and about Lazarus' life after this resurrection. Was he there shouting hallelujah on Palm Sunday? Was he there when Judas betrayed Jesus, and did he stand by Peter when he tried to defend him in the garden? Did he and his sisters go that Easter night to the upper room to be with the other believers? And on Pentecost, was he one of those preaching like tongues of fire? Do you suppose Mary, Martha, and Lazarus started meetings in their home for believers? And the second time he died, do you suppose there was a low moan from him which said, "Been there, done that!"?
Let the scholars debate whether it's a trance or a hoax, allegory or other theories to explain it away. You and I and John know something tremendous happened that day in Bethany, and it gives us renewed hope and changed lives even today as we hear the call, "Come out and take off your grave clothes and live!"
