The man who lived. And the man who died.

Sermon on John 11:32-44

Mary and Martha weep. They cry and cry over the death of their beloved brother Lazarus. They cry over his death and about all the hopes that died in them through his death. About the dreams and plans that died.

Never again will they be who they are in the eyes of Lazarus. Never again will someone see the, exactly like Lazarus. Never again. His bed will stay empty, his place at the table. His heavy steps won’t be heard again or his snoring at night. All the little things that used to bother them, what would they give now to be bothered by them one more time. To Mary, it feels like homesickness in her own home. She can hardly move or think, she walks around like in trance. People start whispering around her, trying not to disturb her. While there is nothing that could disturb her anymore. Death has done it all.

Martha on the other hand keeps herself as busy as can be. She cooks for visitors and mourners, she cleans, she washes. Until she falls asleep, without dreams. That’s the goal. Not to think, not to feel too much. Because it would be too much. She knows her limits and so, she carries on.

They were hopeful, o so hopeful. They had faith. O, so much faith. In God, in Jesus, in prayers, in the universe, whatever people want to call the power that’s greater than death.

They called for Jesus to come, to hurry, to save Lazarus. The friend he said he loves. What can be more important than hurrying to help a friend? Why did he take so long?

Amidst the sadness and lostness, anger starts boiling up. Where is Jesus when you need him? Where are his miracles, his medicine, his cures for anything? Anger turns into despair. Maybe, Jesus isn’t who he claims he is after all. Maybe, he is just a quacksalver. Or, even worse, maybe he has the powers and chooses not to help Lazarus? Maybe he thinks that they aren’t worthy of his attention? Well, in the end the reasons don’t matter, do they? The facts are crystal clear. Jesus didn’t come. Lazarus died. And now, Lazarus has been dead for more than 3 days.

It takes the soul 3 days to fully leave the body, Mary and Martha know that. At the end of that third day, they give up. Death won; Lazarus is gone. Even if Jesus came now, there would be nothing he could do.

On the fourth day, they hear voices outside of the house. Mary wonders if she is dreaming or if she might have gone mad? Then, she sees Jesus. And can’t but blame him for Lazarus’ premature death. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Mary blames Jesus. And she acknowledges her deep faith into his power of life. To nourish life, to save life. That, she has witnessed before. That, she believes.

“When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” Jesus grieves the death of his friend Lazarus. He grieves the pain of his friends, Mary and Martha, over their loss. He grieves what they must have gone through those past 4 days, thinking all hope had been lost. Jesus grieves. With a similar mix of emotions like Mary and Martha had. He is angry and he weeps. He is fully immersed into the state of grief.

Finally, he asks where he can find Lazarus’ body. Mary and Martha lead him to the tomb. Some people think that Jesus wants to say his farewells to his beloved friend. Others can’t stop blaming Jesus. By honoring him as a man with power over the living. “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

This time, Jesus gets really angry. There is so much the people around him don’t seem to understand about him.

A. He didn’t come to overcome death in general. People will still be dying during and after his time on earth. He came to end death as an eternal death sentence.

B. Death itself isn’t the problem. Believing that death is the end, that’s devastating. Believing that there is no hope, that death is the ultimate worst that can happen in life. That’s what Jesus came to overcome.

C. In order to resurrect, one has to die. That’s physics, basically. Even Lazarus will have to die again eventually, to be resurrected at the end of times.

D. Last but not least, it’s great that people believe in his ability to heal people. But they sure don’t believe that he has powers over death. Not even Mary who has been listening attentively and closely to him. His powers are beyond her imagination.

And then, Jesus arrives at the tomb. And now, he isn’t angry anymore. He is overwhelmed by sadness and desperation. The look of the dead body, the smell, the broken hope in the sisters’ eyes. Suddenly, Jesus sees. He sees Lazarus’ legacy. What he has left, how much he was loved, and how deeply he is missed. He sees that those 4 days without Lazarus have shaken Mary and Martha to the core. Have changed them. He sees that the pain they have experienced, the loss, the desperation, the great sadness, all of this has changed them. Forever. Raising Lazarus from the dead won’t erase those traumatic days, those 96 hours, those 5.760 seconds they thought they would never see Lazarus again. Happy ends don’t undo trauma. Healing doesn’t undo suffering. They just overwrite it. Yet, underneath, the memory of pain is deeply engraved into the skin.

It’s too much to stand, even for Jesus. This is real. It’s no game. No simple presentation of power. People have been hurt. And they will never forget the pain of those past 4 days ever again. That reality hits Jesus as he walks into the tomb. He knows that he will raise Lazarus in just a few minutes. Yet, what happened has happened. The scars will stay. The fear of losing a brother for good. Resurrection is no reset. It’s new hope built on the pain of our losses. Those losses stay losses, nevertheless. They change us forever. And Jesus acknowledges that. He weeps.

Only then, Jesus calls: “Lazarus, come out!” And like a Zombie, the man comes out. They unbind him and let him go. Lazarus is back. Back in a world that has changed since he left it. While Lazarus might not have been too affected by his death (after all, he was dead), his family and friends have. They have lost their easiness around him. They treat him with caution, ever worried about his health and wellbeing. Strangers stare at him, not sure whether to be in awe or in panic over the miracle. From now on, he is the man who lived.

What is more threatening than death? Someone who can beat death. Someone who can breathe life into cold bones. Someone who says: I am the resurrection. Not, “I bring resurrection.” But, “I am the resurrection.”

Jesus knows that. He knows that the moment the authorities will get word of Lazarus’ resurrection, they will come for him, Jesus. They didn’t like him before. Now, he is a real threat. Now, he has proven to be the one Ezekiel prophesied. The one bringing dry bones back to life. People who don’t have anything to lose, not even their lives, are dangerous. They are fierce, they can rise up and overthrow systems.

Jesus knows that. And he knows that the people in power know. He knows that by raising Lazarus he put the final nail into his own coffin. The cross is inevitable now. He just gave his life to save Lazarus.

Today, we celebrate All Saints. We remember the people we have lost and still miss. The saints who have changed us through their lives. Through their suffering. And through their death. Through the loss and pain we feel. The saints who were ordinary people to most. And beloved to us. With their complicated stories and lives.

We celebrate them, because Jesus promises us that death doesn’t disconnect us from God, that death isn’t the end. And that therefore, we, the living, will always be connected with the living dead. Through Jesus Christ. And that the dead will always be connected to us, the deadly living. Until one day, when we will all be risen again, and death will be no more. Ever. Thanks be to Jesus Christ who has power of life and death. Amen!