A Reflection on John 11:1-44
Over the weekend the weight of our current situation began to take a toll on me. I felt myself on the verge of tears, and I needed some time alone. So, I went for a long walk around our neighborhood.
When I walk I often use that time to pray – I pour out my thoughts to God, tell Him how I am feeling, what’s going on, asking for His help with things.
This time I prayed for grace and strength, and I wept.
The tears just kept coming. My mother’s heart felt burdened by the need to protect our children, overwhelmed by this sudden change in our lives and all the stress that has come with it. And in general, my heart broke for the world, those who are risking their lives, those who are dying, those who don’t have hope in Christ.
This week our prayer group has been meditating on the Gospel passage of the raising of Lazarus, which contains one of my favorite lines in the whole Bible, verse 35: “And Jesus wept.”
I realize that may sound like a strange verse about which to feel so strongly. But to me this verse epitomizes the humanity of Our Lord. Weeping is a wholly human emotion and one that goes straight to the heart.
For a very long time in my life, I felt empty when I cried. I felt alone and I felt despair. Thanks be to God, I have come to know that I am never alone, but especially in those times of deep sorrow.
Now when I weep, I know that Jesus lives those moments with me.
As close as our friends and family may be to us, the best that they can offer us is empathy. They can relate to how we are feeling because they have undoubtedly experienced similar pain.
But Jesus doesn’t merely empathize with us in our pain. He has compassion on us. He literally experiences our pain with us. How comforting in this time of great suffering and pain to know that Our Lord is in the midst of it all.
In the story of Lazarus and the family of Bethany, we see Jesus weep. I think our human minds usually interpret this scene much the same way as the Jewish observers saw it. They said “See how he loved him” (verse 36). They interpret Jesus’ tears as mourning the death of His friend.
But Jesus knew He was to raise his friend Lazarus. He knew this wasn’t the end, so why weep?
I think we can focus on what happened directly before verse 35. Mary Magdalene falls at His feet exclaiming, “Lord, if you had been here…” Jesus sees His friend Magdalene weeping for her brother’s death, and He is moved with compassion. The Lord of the Universe is weeping for His friend’s pain.
He is living her sorrow with her, just as He lives in the midst of our pain and sorrow. Each wound we endure, He has already endured. When we feel despair, He has already lived despair. When we feel abandoned, He is the one who felt abandoned first.
On the surface this simple, short verse is one of sorrow, but it should actually be a source of great consolation to us.
It is the knowledge that Our Lord is fully human and lives every experience with us. This is certainly a great mystery, but it is also a great mercy that He should take our form, for we know we are not alone. He lived and suffered in our our humanity, so that we might come to live His Divinity.
Yet armed with this knowledge that we are not alone and that we are invited into the Divine life, we still struggle to comprehend the why of suffering.
Why would He allow His friend’s death? Why allow the sorrow of Lazarus’ sisters, whom Jesus also loved? Or more relevant for us, why would He allow this deathly pandemic and all the resulting hardships, struggles, pain and sorrow?
Though the Gospel gives us the answer to our questions, it is not easy to comprehend. Jesus says when He hears that Lazarus is sick and dying:
“This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”
John 11:4
And just before He raises Lazarus, Jesus prays to the Father:
“…but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me.”
John 11:42
It seems that each time Jesus works a miracle, it is not merely for the benefit of those involved, but always serves the greater purpose of glorifying God.
In this particular story, we hear a statement of faith by the two sisters repeating the same words, “Lord, if you had been here.” Martha directly states, “I have come to believe that you are the Messiah (verse 27)” and Mary, in supplication to His divinity, falls at His feet.
The request of Jesus’ saving action requires faith and humility. And then Jesus performs the miracle and saves their brother.
I find this particular miracle so fascinating due to it’s similarities to Jesus’ Resurrection story. First, we have Lazarus laid in a cave with a stone laid across it. This directly brings to my mind the tomb of Jesus.
Yet, unlike His divine Resurrection in which the stone is already removed from the tomb, Jesus says to those gathered around, “Take away the stone.” He can move the stone himself, as we see Him do at His own tomb. He’s asking those, who are begging for help, to participate in the miracle.
He chooses to involve us! Jesus wishes for us to participate in His saving action.
I wonder if the reason we don’t experience more miracles and divine intervention in our lives is because we don’t move away the proverbial stone of our own doubts and misgivings. Like Martha’s concern that Lazarus’ dead body will stink, we think only of the here and now.
So the group, reluctantly, removes the stone, and Jesus brings Lazarus back to life. Though he is alive, Lazarus walks out of the tomb bound hand and foot in burial cloths.
Why didn’t Jesus just take care of that detail? Couldn’t Jesus also have unbound Lazarus?
Of course He could! And again, I think of the Resurrection. The Apostles enter the tomb and find the burial cloths lying in the tomb, and Jesus is raised and gone. As the second person of the Most Holy Trinity, He has the power to remove these cloths. He cannot be constrained by the world. Jesus has dominion over all things, natural and supernatural.
Yet, we are constrained by this world. Even as Jesus works in our lives we are still constrained by sin and a fallen humanity. Lazarus was not yet raised yet into eternal life, but had been brought back into this world. Perhaps that is why Lazarus is still bound.
So Jesus tells those gathered, “Untie him and let him go” (verse 44). There is always human participation required in His miracles. Fill the jars; Put out the nets; Gather the scraps; Take up your mat; Go wash yourself.
Jesus invites us to participate in his work in many ways. There is great work for all of us to do.
First, we must believe in Him. We must humble ourselves and fall at His feet.
We must live our pain and sorrow, just as He did, knowing that it is He who is with us through it all. He is weeping with us. When we have so united our pain to Him, we will come to know that He can do the impossible.
We must remove those stones in our lives that block the grace and saving action of Christ, not worrying and counting the cost. We must abandon ourselves to His Providence, expecting that He will work, as Martha says, “Even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you” (verse 22).
And if Jesus requires our participation in His work, we must respond without hesitation. We must do whatever He tells us and untie those who are bound.
Quite literally, our priests do this for us in the sacrament of confession, but even we are called to participate in Jesus’ priesthood. We can untie those around us who are bound to doubt, bound to fear, bound to despair. We must show them that Christ is Lord and His Resurrection frees us from all bondage.
In these desperate times, we can be a source of hope to the world. Let us tell the world, when you weep, it is Our Lord who weeps with you. He wants to save us from this broken world.
