In my studies of the Gospel of John, I like to see the links with the Synoptic Gospels. Only Luke mentions Lazarus (16:19-31), where the question concerns the dead coming back to life. I find that interesting. Further, we find the raising of the young man of Nain (Luke 7:11-16) and the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:22-24, 35-43). [3] In both cases, we seem to get a hint of the inner life of Jesus, as we do in this story as well.
The figure of Lazarus stands at the summit of several converging trajectories in the gospel of John. He is fourth in a line of crucial characters — Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, the man born blind and Lazarus — through whom Jesus reveals himself in the first half of the gospel. Jesus’ engagement with each of these characters consumes the better part of a chapter and brings a distinct element of his personality into public light. With the story of Lazarus, Jesus brings his message and his miracles to the boundary of human existence, the very border between death and life. The reader has known from the beginning that “life” came into being through him (1:4), but now John makes the point clear in both word (“I am the resurrection and the life”) and deed (“The dead man came out”).
Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. The beginning of this seventh sign comes simply enough. 2 Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. This remark reminds us of the unique and close relationship Jesus had with this family.3 So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love (φιλεῖς) is ill.” 4 But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory (δόξης), so that the Son of God may be glorified (δοξασθῇ) through it.” 5 Accordingly, though Jesus loved (Ἠγάπα) Martha and her sister and Lazarus, a comment that leads to a possibility for us to consider. It might he that the love of Jesus was so obvious in all the things he did that it was only rarely that they make special note of it. It may also be that they let each event stand for itself as an indication of divine love. Thus, he acts to reveal the reign of God, he is a friend of sinners, he heals the sick, he forgives sin, he releases from evil spirits, and he sacrifices himself. What were such acts but showing of divine love?[4] Yet, despite the love Jesus had for this family, 6 after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
7 Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” 8 The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews,that is, the religious leaders, were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” 9 Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. 10 But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” 11 After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The language of resurrection, even if it refers to a real event, a fact related to the goal of the process, a new life, here meaning a return to earthly life.[5] 12 The disciples said to him, again not understanding the deeper meaning of Jesus, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” 13 Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. 14 Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. This metaphor of sleep relates to the impression shaped by faith and love of the process of dying in the experience of the survivors, of what is finally perceptible in the death of a brother or sister. They seem to him or her falling asleep. What is beyond they cannot see.[6] 15 For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe (πιστεύσητε). But let us go to him.” 16 Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” The faith of the newly introduced Thomas prepares us for his later difficulty in accepting the resurrection of Jesus with the same faith (20:25).
17 When Jesus arrived, returning to the original sign story, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. This fact stresses that Lazarus is dead beyond doubt. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, 19 and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. 20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. 21 Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” 23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again (Ἀναστήσεται).” 24 Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again (ἀναστήσεται) in the resurrection (ἀναστάσει) on the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, in a word of revelation, “I am (Ἐγώ εἰμι) the resurrection (ἀνάστασις) and the life. Those who believe (πιστεύων) in me, even though they die, will live, 26 and everyone who lives and believes (πιστεύων) in me will never die. Do you believe (πιστεύεις) this?” As a hinge event in this gospel, it becomes the occasion of belief for some, as here and in verse 45. In this phrase, Christ is the beyond in whom humanity in its transience, to which departure belongs, sees its temporal being clothed with eternal life.[7] Schleiermacher would argue that the basis of Christian hope of life beyond death has its basis in the fellowship of believers with Jesus. He did so without finding rational justification in the philosophical doctrine of the immortality of the soul. Those who live and die in fellowship with the Redeemer experience no interruption of the relationship, even though they may experience some essential purifying and perfecting.[8] This approach fixes Christian hope on the right basis, even if we need to view this hope within the larger context of the future resurrection of the dead.[9] 27 She said to him, in a way that suggests she is full-fledged disciple, “Yes, Lord, I believe (πεπίστευκα) that you are the Messiah (Χριστὸς), the Son of God (Υἱὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ), the one coming into the world.” Martha interrupts Jesus on his way to the tomb in order to have a theological discussion.
28 When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” 29 And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31 The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Mary interrupts Jesus on his slow progression to the tomb because of her overwhelming grief. Her grief unveils the genuine humanity of Jesus. 33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, in a rare moment when a gospel writer lets us see the inner life of Jesus, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. Jesus joins Mary in weeping in weeping over the tragedy of death. 34 He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to weep. Jesus weeps over the power of death itself, the way it cuts short human life, the way death devastates those left behind to mourn and lament.[10] 36 Therefore, the Jews said, “See how he loved (ἐφίλει) him!” They see his tears as a sign of his love. They will see further evidence of that love. 37 Yet, some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Jesus is not fighting sad and sorrowing people. He stands with them, sympathetically bearing the burden of the whole age. However, weeping with them means that Jesus is fighting for them. Of course, the sheer evidence and extent of that love is still to come. While his words alone had convinced Martha, it would take supernatural action to effect faithfulness from Mary and many others who observed. Even Martha, with her newly strengthened faith, is unprepared for what follows, and earns a gentle reprimand from Jesus (v.40). At the sight of the tears of Jesus, the crowd says, "How he loved him." Jesus weeps over the power of death itself, the way it cuts short human life, the way death devastates those left behind to mourn and lament.[11]
The simple miracle story continues in verses 38-39a. 38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.”
Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed (πιστεύσῃς), you would see the glory (δόξαν) of God?” The glory of God (verse 4) is the reason for this miracle. Although Martha has just made a statement of faith in Jesus as resurrection and life, she remains unpaired for what is to come. The question of Jesus to those standing outside the tomb encapsulates the challenge of the gospel. 41 Therefore, they took away the stone. Then, Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe (πιστεύσωσιν) that you sent me.”
In verses 43-44, we have the conclusion of the simple miracle story. 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” Jesus echoes Isaiah 49:8-9, where the Lord says to prisoners, “Come out.” He also echoes his earlier statement that all who are in their graves will hear the voice of the Lord and come out (5:28-29). The prayer of Jesus shows that the power comes from the Father to the Son. We now see the divine purpose. He did not just heal the body. He brought a new awareness of eternal life, especially for the family. 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” By waiting those two days, Jesus did far more for Lazarus than heal his body of some sickness. Jesus' words to Martha, his compassion toward Mary and his resurrection of Lazarus brought an entire family into a life of faith that would take them on to eternal life. Pointing to the burial clothes will remind us later of the careful placing of the burial clothes of Jesus in the tomb (20:7). This is the battle of Jesus for the cause of humanity as the creature of God, ordained by God for life and not for death. When Lazarus hears it, and does as Jesus commands, it declares the victory of Jesus in this battle. In this dramatic way, John reveals what all the gospel writers saw beneath all the events they recorded.[12]
The story is for "the glory of God." It is not so much a family crisis as a struggle in the world between death and sin. It is not so much about resuscitating a corpse as about giving life to the world. The deeper truth is that apart from God, the world is a cemetery, but into that world, Christ offers resurrection. There are many touching points with Jesus' own passion. He is deeply troubled. He weeps. The tomb is near Jerusalem. The tomb has a stone over it and someone has rolled it away. Someone removed the burial clothes from one who was dead. Lazarus left the tomb, but the price was that Jesus entered it.
John's telling of this story is crucially important to the theology of the Johannine community. The rich, tightly woven narrative is heavy with theological overlay, the most central concern being how believing, reborn Christians are to understand the reality of physical death within their ranks. The dramatic incident in Bethany allows Jesus to confront the specter of human death, especially the death of one he greatly loves, and to demonstrate how Christians may expect to overcome it both spiritually and physically through the power of Christ.
The bitter confrontation with Jewish unbelief (10:22-39) precedes this act of self-revelation from Jesus, in a sign that forms the climax of all the signs by Jesus, the raising of Lazarus. A word of revelation in the center of the chapter gives it its literal interpretation. Its Christological and soteriological significance receive brief mention in the introduction and at the climax of the narrative. Together with the healing of the man born blind, the raising of Lazarus expresses the central Christological idea of the fourth gospel, that Jesus is the light and life of the world, as said in 1:4. Wherever he found the story, the writer has placed this greatest of signs of Jesus as bringer of life quite deliberately at this point in his gospel. As the drama of the battle between belief and unbelief reaches its height, it is a final powerful stimulus for faith, which makes many more people come to believe in Jesus, so that the Jewish leaders view the swelling flood with extreme anxiety. This drives them to prepare a counter-attack and take an official decision in the council to kill Jesus. In the writer’s deeper vision, it is no accident that at the moment that the Son of God gives the supreme demonstration of his power over life, the unbelievers resolve to destroy him and take all the steps necessary to that end. The path to the cross is marked out in advance, but it is marked in the plan of God. The raising up on the cross will become the glorification of God in the Son. The sign of the raising of the dead is already pointing towards this final glorification, and the high priest’s involuntary prophecy shows how human purposes inevitably serve the plan of God.
On his way to death, Jesus stops just long enough to raise his friend Lazarus from the dead.
When we realize that death is the final act that will form the brackets of our lives that begins with birth, we also realize it will take courage to lead a human life. The failure to embrace our end can lead to a neurotic life that refuses the loan of life to avoid the payment of the debt, which is death.[13] Such neurosis can lead a form of psychic numbness, a form of anestheticizing our lives against the anxiety of death.[14] Here is the basic paradox of a human life. Our deepest need is to be free of the anxiety of death. Yet, life itself awakens the anxiety with which death confronts us in a way that makes us shrink from being fully alive.[15]
We often hear people say that suffering brings out the best in people. Further, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Even more, that which does not destroy us strengthens us. All of this contains an element truth. Yet, we also need to confront another harsh fact. Hard times, suffering, and dark days break as many people as they make. We have all seen it. A not too good Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, Aftermath (2017), is depressing for that reason. People face demanding times and allow the challenging times to break them. None of the characters have the courage to face their tough times and move forward with their lives for the sake of themselves, families, friends, and so on. Hard times crush them.
It takes a degree of courage to lead a life in which we grasp the significance that we will die.
In the Showtime television series Dead Like Me, the ultimate wake-up call came to Georgia “George” Lass courtesy of ... a toilet seat. “George” had been sleepwalking her way through life. An aimless college student who drove her family nuts with her cynicism and lack of motivation, she dropped out of school and reluctantly landed a job at a temp agency, and that only because of her mother’s ceaseless prodding. Her life changed on a lunch break where, standing on the street, she is instantly killed by a falling piece of the burned-up MIR Space Station ... the toilet seat. End of story? Hardly. Immediately following her fatal encounter with the falling toilet seat, George finds herself standing again on the street amid the gathering crowd. She does not realize that she is dead until a kindly man named Rube points out her remains (which are driven deep into the pavement) and tells her that she is now a member of the Rube-led Pacific Northwest chapter of grim reapers. These people, like George, died with unresolved issues and now must learn lessons that, for one reason or another, they failed to learn in life. Her job is to rescue souls shortly before they die, giving them a second chance. Weaving its storylines through the interaction of the characters and their “victims,” the show asks some compelling questions about life and death: “What if death is not the end? What if it is not even an escape from the issues that plagued us? What if it is not a way to avoid accountability, but an opportunity to accept responsibility? What if it’s a wake-up call?”
Mitch Albom, who published the novel The Five People You Meet in Heaven, takes up a literary version of this theme. Eddie works at an amusement park in Jersey but is killed by a malfunction of Freddy’s Free Fall. In heaven, Eddie meets five people who help him understand why what happened in his life on earth — happened. George. Eddie. Now Lazarus.
One literary and dramatic device is to have the main character die at the beginning, and then see how they have some “unfinished business” that they, after death, have an opportunity to resolve. In addition to the stories just mentioned. Think of the movies like Ghost, Heaven Can Wait, and Just Like Heaven. The point is, if we reflect upon the brevity of our lives, we can take consider the pattern our lives are weaving. Are we satisfied with the pattern? Such dramatic devices invite us to reflect upon our lives by looking at the end, death, and reflect upon what its reality means for how we live today. In such stories, people receive a second chance to learn what they could have learned, had they only paid more attention. Such stories also remind us of the impact, not only of death, but also of eternity.
In the Gospel of John, the death of a friend, Lazarus, awakens emotion within Jesus, for Jesus wept in such a way that others noticed how much he loved Lazarus. Jesus had done other signs. In turning water to wine, in healing people, in offering new birth of the human spirit, in offering living water, in being the bread of life, in being the light of the world, Jesus meets some of the deepest human needs. Yet, when Jesus says that he is the resurrection and the life, he addresses our deepest anxiety, and desires to free us from it. As final as it sounds, “Lazarus is dead,” life will have the final word, rather than death. Death casts its shadow over our lives. As temporal as our lives are, bounded as they are by the facts of birth and death, Christ is our hope, the divine assurance that God clothes are temporal lives with eternal life. The battle of Jesus is the cause of humanity, and in this act, we see that the God ordains this creature of God for life, not death.[16]
Characters in movies, the story of Lazarus, pose a spiritually significant challenge to all of us. They suggest that we can receive a second chance at real life and happiness if we are willing to view life through the lens of death. They challenge us to look backward at life from its end point rather than always forward. They challenge us to recognize that while death comes to us all, we should prepare for that death not by fearing it but by facing it.
Stephen Covey, in Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, has a helpful way of exploring your life mission and goals. One of his exercises for framing a personal mission statement is to ask oneself a simple, but profound question. Imagine your funeral. Imagine the people there. Imagine that they have an opportunity to express what you have meant to them. What do you hope they will say? What have you achieved? What kind of person have you been? Such questions will disclose your values and goals. One then needs to take the steps necessary to lead that type of life.
To put it another way, we do not have to sleepwalk through life and wait for death in order to wake up and smell the stinking life we have left behind. We can have a second chance, if we take the opportunity to reflect upon our end, to die to self, as Paul put it, to put behind us an old life and awaken to a new one filled with new adventures, renewed relationships, and ultimate purpose. What would happen if God gave you a Lazarus opportunity? How would you live it differently with your spouse, with God, with your service in the church, with your children, with your community, and all the other connections you have in your life?
Suzanne and I went through a book together in 2011 called Soul Maps: A Guide to the Midlife Spirit. The author writes about the increasing awareness that people going through midlife have of their approaching end. They reflect more upon the finite amount of time they have to invest their lives. How will you invest it? You may have pursued goals and had certain standards of success. Are they working? Do you need to adjust? With whom will you invest the time you have remaining? That is one reason this message has taken the shape it has.
How does the prospect of your death affect the way you live today? Do you need a wake-up call? Does the prospect of death cause you to accept responsibility for your life? Are there things in your life that keep you in bondage to the past, from which you need release in order to experience new life?
Lazarus’ physical death and resurrection put him on a different path toward living out his purpose as a follower of Christ. Our spiritual death, dying to ourselves and our sleepy, sinful way of life can do the same. It may be that we need a Lazarus death to some parts of our lives, so that we can truly be alive in Christ.
Charles Boyer. Remember him? He was a lover of the most famous and beautiful ladies of the screen. But that was for the screen and the fan magazines. In real life, it was different. There was only one woman. For forty-four years. They were lovers and friends and companions during those years. His wife, Patricia, developed cancer of the liver. The doctors told Charles. He could not bear to tell her. Day and night for six months he was by her bed side. He could not change the inevitable. Nobody could. And Patricia died in his arms. Two days later Charles Boyer was also dead. By his own hand. He said he did not want to live without her. He said, "Her love was life to me." This was no movie. This was real life. Yet, there is something touching about the story. Yet, for some of us, there are times when we look across the room, and see our spouse amidst the daily ordinariness of life, and we see the spouse, the friend, the companion, of our lives. And some of us can understand why Charles Boyer did what he did. It is possible to love someone that much.[17]
I hope you do not think it harsh of me, however, to suggest that the courageous path would be to walk through the tough times, even the death of a loved one, with faith, hope, and love. It will take courage. Garth Brooks had a song in 1989 which has a beautiful message. It talks about the "good byes" we go through in life. Friends move away. People die. The chorus goes like this:
And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
the way it all would go
Our lives are better off left to chance
I could have missed the pain
but I'd of had to miss the dance.
We are afraid to get involved in the lives of others. We believe that if we get involved, we will be dragged down by the problems of others. We think it will add to our stress. We are not certain we have the time to express our love and caring for others. We are afraid to get hurt. Yet, if we do not get involved, we will miss the dance, we will miss the joy and happiness in life.
I hope you will allow me the privilege to be direct. When you stand before God in eternity, would you rather be told you believed too much, or you believed too little. ... cared ... tried too hard ... too forgiving ... Would you rather be told: “Well done, you hyper-hopeful and risk-taking servant” or “well done, you sober and play it safe servant”?
[1] Schnackenburg distinguishes between a sayings sources in v. 1, 3, 17-18, 33-34, 38-39, 43-44, and the evangelist's expansion in v. 2, 4-5, 6-16, 19-27, 28-32, 35-38, 39b-42. The original text was a simple account of the raising of a dead man.
[2] There is a very different approach to miracles in the gospel of John than there is in the gospel of Mark. In Mark, Jesus often orders others to be silent after he has performed a healing or an exorcism, or swears them to secrecy after they have witnessed one of his miracles (Mark 1:25, 34, 44; 3:12; 5:43; 7:36). In John, the miracles are always done in public and are said to have been done so that non believers would believe in him. After he changes the water into wine in chapter 2, we are told that by doing so he “revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him” (2:11). Similarly, the signs done in Jerusalem are said to lead others to belief (2:23). However, in Mark, Jesus criticizes those who need signs done for them in order to believe (Mark 8:11-13). Another difference between Mark and John is the fact that Mark’s Jesus speaks in parables and is constantly misunderstood by those around him. In fact, the idea that others do not understand Jesus is one of the major facts pointed out by Mark by way of explaining why more people did not accept him as the Messiah. In John there are no parables at all. Jesus declares himself publicly at every turn, and often follows his miracles with descriptions of his identity that mirror the miracles just performed. When he heals the paralytic on the Sabbath he follows this up with a declaration that “My Father is still working, and I also am working.” In other words, it is lawful for him to heal on the Sabbath because his work is part of the work of God who is never idle. After the feeding of the 5,000, Jesus soon declares, “I am the bread of life” (John 6:35), and tells those who ask him for a sign so that they might believe that he himself is the sign of God’s action in the world (John 6:30-33). Jesus declares outright that the healing of the man born blind served the purpose of revealing the work of God (John 9:3), and just before healing the blind man he declares, “I am the light of the world” (John 9:5).
[3] Barnabas Lindars, The Gospel of John, 1987: They may not have known about this miracle. Further, for the purposes of their stories of Jesus, it became dispensable. Such are the explanations some have offered as to why the synoptic gospels did not include this story. Clearly, the local early Christians would have found the miracle occurring in Bethany near Jerusalem to have great meaning. Yet, the dominant tradition on which the Synoptic Gospels have their basis focused upon miracles in Galilee. We can observe a similar process in the case of the Easter tradition. The only regrettable aspect of John’s work is that it has deprived us of any hope of recovering the truth of what actually happened.
[4] Barth (Church Dogmatics, IV.2 [68.2], 765)
[5] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology, Volume 2, 347.
[6] Barth (Church Dogmatics, III.2 [47.5], 638
[7] Barth (Church Dogmatics, III.4 [56.1], 594)
[8] Schleiermacher, Christian Faith, 158.2/3.
[9] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 534-5.
[10] Sadly, some interpreters have suggested that Jesus weeps due to the lack of faith he is witnessing.
[11] Barth (Church Dogmatics, IV.2, [64.3], 227)
[12] Barth (Church Dogmatics, IV.2 [64.3], 228)
[13] Otto Rank: The neurotic is one who refused the loan (life) in order to avoid the payment of the debt (death).”
Paul Tillich: Neurosis is the way of avoiding non-being by avoiding being.
[14] Robert Jay Lifton: Psychic numbness is the phrase he used to describe how the neurotic individual shields him or herself from death anxiety by becoming numbed, anestheticized against the pervasiveness of death in the midst of life.
[15] Ernest Becker: The irony of humanity’s condition is that the deepest need is to be free of the anxiety of death and annihilation; but it is life itself which awakens it and so we must shrink from being fully alive.
[16] Karl Barth (Church Dogmatics, III.4, 594 and IV.2, 228).
[17] Robert Fulghum (All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, 32-33).
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