Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45
“And Jesus wept.” John 11:35. Our Revised Common Lectionary says, “Jesus began to weep”, which is simply saying the same thing in the present instead of the past tense. But none of that left-brain distraction matters here. The fact that Jesus wept, and still weeps, speaks to the foundation of our faith as Christians. The fact that Jesus wept is what separates us from every other religion. What we believe of Jesus Christ is a shocking and exclusive claim that no other religion will make: God suffered – for us. Although we share history and traditions and many ideas about God with our Jewish and our Moslem brothers and sisters, what we believe about Jesus Christ is a scandal to both Jews and Moslems. And I’m not making that point to demean or to appear superior, far from it. I’m making this point simply because it’s true. What we believe about God in Jesus Christ is unique, and there’s no way to minimize or sugar-coat that difference. Jesus Christ is a special revelation of God to the world, and the world is saved because of him.
And why Jesus wept is almost as amazing as the fact that God in Jesus Christ did weep. Jesus doesn’t weep because Lazarus is dead. Jesus knows that Lazarus will walk the earth again, and that God the Father will make this miracle happen.
Jesus, who delayed coming to Lazarus and Mary and Martha while Lazarus was still alive, did not weep because he felt guilty for showing up late, or because he felt guilty for allowing Lazarus to die before he arrived at the scene. Jesus weeps because of his love for Lazarus, and because of the heartbreak of the mourners around him, especially his friends Martha and Mary. Jesus stands on the brink of bringing Lazarus back, knowing full well that God has already heard his prayer and answered it, and yet he weeps when he sees the pain in the women’s eyes, he weeps when he nears the tomb of death, he weeps when he lets that emotion burrow deep into his human soul and he feels that pain in his human bones.
It didn’t have to be this way. This “sign”, as John the Gospeller calls it, was the crescendo in Jesus’ ministry of healing. Jesus could have made it a spectacle. He could have taken the time to draw crowds, to invite his detractors, to invite the Jewish leaders, to invite the Romans. Jesus could have made this the crowning jewel of his ministry and provided incontrovertible proof of his power and his pedigree.
Maybe Jesus should have acted like a world-famous magician. He could have put on a huge nighttime production, with strobe lights, and smoke filling the air, and curtains covering the tomb; Jesus rapping on the stone covering the door with his magic wand, intently calling, “Lazarus, come out!” Slowly the stone would wobble, and then it would roll away. More smoke would billow out, flames would burst forth in an explosion of heat. Then a shaky, cloth-covered hand would appear, followed by a mummy-wrapped body dragging itself forth. The cloth strips would disappear in a flash of light and there would stand Lazarus, fully alive and fully pumped up like a body builder, waving to the crowd. Jesus would bow for the crowds, then sign autographs for the lucky few that security let near. Another flash of light and puff of smoke and Jesus would be gone, sipping bourbon in his trailer on the road to his next gig.
Maybe Jesus should have acted like a modern-day politician on a whirl-wind campaign stop. Jesus rides into town on his special “salvation” train. A limo whisks him from the train to the cemetery, where crowds of “approved” supporters wait for Jesus at $100 a head. Jesus walks up to the tomb, turns around and takes a few minutes to bash his opponent the Devil, whom Jesus blames for everything from the occupation of the Romans to the starvation of the working classes to the death of Lazarus himself. Jesus takes off his Armani suit jacket, rolls up his silk sleeves, flashes that signature smile, and invites his aids to roll back the stone from in front of the grave. Jesus reaches in and pulls a stumbling Lazarus out, supporting Lazarus as he heads to the reporters waiting in the wings. Jesus and Lazarus hold an impromptu press conference, during which they denounce death and the Devil, and vow to free Palestine while “taking the fight to the Romans!”
But seriously. By not rushing off to Bethany to heal Lazarus while he was still alive, by staying across the Jordan until his work there is complete, and by returning to Bethany to raise Lazarus from the dead, and thereby risking being so close to Jerusalem, Jesus is taking risks on many levels. He risks the anger and grief and friendship of Martha and Mary by not coming sooner to heal their brother. He risks the wrath of the Jews by coming so close to Jerusalem after his last run-in with the Priests and Scribes who seek to kill him. He risks appearing weak by weeping at Lazarus’ tomb. He risks allowing Lazarus to suffer the pain of death twice by raising Lazarus from his first death. He risks all these things to do God’s will.
All these risks are necessary if Jesus is to bring new life to the world. And bringing new life is what Jesus is all about, what God is all about. Picture Ezekiel being dropped into the middle of that dark valley filled with bones, those dry bones, one of the most creepy and amazing images from the Old Testament. God calls Ezekiel to speak truth to the dead, to speak God’s good news to piles of human remains, dry and dusty bones, those who seem beyond saving. Ezekiel does as God commands, and before his very eyes the bones begin to rattle and come together as skeletons, then sinew, then flesh, then skin covers them. Now the valley is filled with fully restored human bodies, but they still lack life and lay lifeless on the ground.
Then God commands again and Ezekiel obeys, calling upon the breath of God to fill the lungs of the bodies covering the valley. And like Adam after God breathes the breath of life into his nostrils, these bodies once dry and lifeless receive the breath of life and are living again. Ezekiel witnesses first-hand God’s life-giving power to restore what was rotted and decayed, to bring life out of death, to restore his chosen people to their rightful place as ministers to the nations. Through Ezekiel’s vision God demonstrates his desire to save his people.
Through Jesus’ raising of Lazarus from the dead God demonstrates his power over death, God gives us a sneak peek at the power love has to destroy death in this world. In Jesus’ death and resurrection, God has experienced first-hand, in the flesh, what it is to be human, and what it means to truly commune with us. In his death and resurrection God in Jesus Christ demonstrates the power of love to permanently destroy death and to transform death into something new through the resurrection.
The Good News we receive from this passage during Lent is that not only does God desire to save us from the permanence of death; God has acted to save us from the permanence of death through the life, death, and resurrection of his only Son Jesus Christ. In saving us God has made himself vulnerable to loving us as his own beloved children – to feeling our joy and our pain; to feeling our despair and our hope; to feeling our suffering and our healing; to knowing the devastation of love that seems lost and the hope-filled reassurance that love truly never dies.
Lent is about finding new life in the midst of suffering and death, and bones that are so dry they are almost dust. That is God’s prayer for us this and every day – that we will come to believe that love is stronger than death, that death will never have the final word, and that God’s love for us is as infinite as the cosmos and as intimate as a human heartbeat.