Lent 24 post 13

John 11.1-44

 

I mean, how long does it take to get from up there on the other side of the River Jordan down to Bethany here? A day or two’s walk at most. But he just didn’t come, did he? We sent him a message that our brother Lazarus was dangerous ill, but days passed and no sign of Jesus. And then Lazarus died, our precious brother, and a man still in his prime. Mary and I, we were beside ourselves with grief. It felt as if we’d been widowed. The whole village came round to mourn with us and the house was full of people, weeping and wailing.

And still no Jesus, four days later, and Lazarus’s body now wrapped and in the tomb. Surely he’d heard the news by now. Didn’t he remember how much we loved him, and how much he loved us and our little home? All those times he’d stayed with us and I’d cooked his favourite food. And, in fact,  I was in the kitchen again when a friend whispered through the little window that Jesus had reached the edge of the village. I rushed off to find him, leaving Mary with the mourners.

‘Lord,’ I wailed, ‘if only you’d come on time, my brother would not have died.’ I couldn’t help it. I was hurting so much. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt cross with him, but this was far, far worse. If only, if only.

‘Your brother will rise again,’ said Jesus, just like the mourners back home were saying again and again to Mary and me, trying to be comforting in the usual way.

‘Well, of course I know that, Lord,’ I said. ‘I know he will rise on the last day in the resurrection of all the dead.’ I mean, all of us Jews believe that (well, except those Sadducees). But that’s a long time to wait, and we’ll all be dead by then, and Jesus could have stopped him dying in the first place. My grief was tipping over into anger.

And then Jesus said words I can never forget, ‘I am the resurrection and the life (he stressed those first two words). The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?’

It was more than I could take in, but I did say I believed in him. I did and do believe he is the Messiah and the Son of God. But I thought, ‘Mary needs to hear this. It’ll make more sense to her than me; Jesus always did.’

So I hurried back to the house as fast as my skirts would allow and whispered in Mary’s ear that Jesus had arrived. She was sitting on the floor where once she’d sat at Jesus feet, but now she leapt up and hurried to where I’d met Jesus, and fell at those same feet right there. A whole crowd of us followed her, just in time to hear her say, ‘Lord, if only you’d come on time, my brother would not have died.’

‘Er, been there, said that, sister,’ I thought, though I had to wait until later to tell Mary what Jesus answered.

Mary was weeping. Everybody else was too. And then I saw Jesus. His chest was heaving with great sobs and his face was crumpling up in pain. But he managed to ask us where the body was, before bursting into tears himself. Did I tell you how much he loved Lazarus? Everybody could tell. But it actually looked as if he was angry, not just grieved, somehow angry at death for stealing Lazarus’s life.

We got to the tomb and Jesus went straight up to the entrance.

‘Take away the stone!’ he commanded. It looked as if he was going to march right in there and invade the world of the dead, like confronting death in its own realm, just as he confronted and overcame the evil spirits. But I was horrified. Didn’t he know what a body smells like after four days? Well, I told him, but it made no difference.

‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘and you will see the glory of God.’ So, I did and I did!

He looked up and prayed. Then he shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ And there he was, shuffling out of the darkness, standing right up straight in the sunlight . . . My brother! Alive!

Mary has helped me understand (she’s good at explaining things) what Jesus meant. You see, Lazarus is going to die again some day, isn’t he, and Mary and I too. But because Jesus is the resurrection, and we believe in him, that won’t be the end. We shall live! And because Jesus is the life, we know we have eternal life already now and will never truly die. Oh, and yes, we know all this because we were there when Jesus himself died on the cross, and we have seen him even more fully raised from the dead than my brother was (but that’s another story).

And that nice young John (whom Jesus loved a lot as well, apparently) says he’s going to put our story in the book he’s writing about Jesus, and end with the very same words that I said to Jesus! Isn’t that good of him? John wants you and everybody to believe, like me, that ‘Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name’.