The Last Word

John 11: 32-44, page 761

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see Lord,” they replied.
Jesus wept.
Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said.
“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”
Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”
When he had said this, Jesus called 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.”
Sermon
There is a new book out by Dan Brown, an author whose book The da Vinci Code was greeted with widespread popularity as well as widespread controversy. His new book, The Lost Symbol, takes place mostly in Washington DC, and deals with ideas about the human capacity for greatness.
His main character, Robert Langdon reflects on principles of the world’s great religions; how the Buddha said, ‘You are God yourself.’ Or how Jesus taught that ‘the kingdom of God is within you’ and even promised us, ‘the works I do, you can do… and greater.’[1]
Always on the look-out for conspiracies as he was in the da Vinci Code, Brown’s latest book sees these ideas about the human capacity for greater authority and power, all around Washington DC, present symbolically in our Nation’s Capitol’s greatest monuments.
And it’s possible to read these same ideas into the story that we are faced with today – that of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.
Jesus, deeply moved by the people around him, is able to raise a man from the dead, saying to Martha, the sister of the dead man, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
As though faith could elevate Martha to a higher realm of consciousness, where what seems impossible becomes possible – and we should be encouraged to go and do likewise - the works I do, you can do… and greater.
Our culture may just be pushing us in this direction – as all around us are people challenging their humanness, fighting to become larger than life, to find a way out of poverty and into great wealth, to escape being normal by getting noticed and admired by peers, to ascend above the crowd to stand boldly under the limelight of celebrity.
We don’t like being normal, so we try our best to rise above.
We don’t want to be another Joe six-pack so we try for American Idol.
We don’t want to be hurt, so we put on a face of strong resolve.
We don’t want to be rejected so we pretend not to care.
And sometimes we follow this Jesus, thinking that he’ll help us get where we need to go – that he’ll set us apart and high up on a hill to be a shining light to the world, no longer imprisoned by the world, but set free.
It’d be good to avoid the not so nice parts of being human.
Avoid sadness, self-loathing, illness, age, and death – just rise above it all.
We are chained to these mortal bodies, flawed and limited, doomed to experience human emotion and grief – our savior should come to show us how to ascend above it all.
Maybe that’s what Mary was thinking when fell at his feet mourning the loss of her brother, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She assumed that he would have prevented it from happening – if only he’d been there sooner.
But this way of thinking misses a point made prominent by two simple words here in our scripture lesson for today. Verse 35 is the shortest verse in the Bible, but it says all that we ever wanted to know: “Jesus wept.”
To this show of emotion, some said, “See how he loved him;” But others said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man from dying?”
I think this is the question that we all ask.
If this Jesus were so great, then why is there still death? Why do we lose people who we love?
Jesus doesn’t stop Lazarus from dying, but stays away while death’s shadow closes in, and the stone covers the mouth of his burial cave.
4 days pass and we wonder why – why he had to go – why he had to leave us – why he wasn’t spared.
Limited then we might say – or insufficient. And many did - others saw weakness, vulnerability. So many others never even wondered if this man was who he said he was as God must certainly have power over death if God can give the blind their sight.
But this God who weeps doesn’t avoid death himself – and in this death we know that God didn’t come to earth to avoid the pain of human life, to avoid that most prominent feeling of loss, forgo that thing that we all fear the most – dying – but to face death himself, and to face it with human tears.
And just as Lazarus’ body was placed in the tomb, we placed him in the tomb.
And then the tomb was sealed – and the shadow fell.
But just when we thought death would have the last word, we hear the words: “Lazarus, come out!”
These words that break the silence, that shine a light that even the shadow of death cannot extinguish, come from one who did not spare himself, could have risen above, could have avoided it all, but choose to share our grief, share our limitations, share our fear, and even die himself that death while not avoided, might forever be concurred and forever prevented from having the last word, as the last word on death is not silence, but “Lazarus, come out!”
Today we remember men and women whom we have lost in the last year – and as we remember what we have lost, also remember this truth – that Christ, though divine, shares in your grief; and that Christ, though immortal, took on our human limitations that you might never face the shadow of death alone, trusting that the last word will not come from death, but from Christ, the one who has taken from death her sting.
-Amen.

[1] Ibid. 492.