Jesus Wept - All Saints Sunday
Author: Pastor Scott Schul
November 03, 2024
Jesus’s miraculous raising of
Lazarus occurs at the very center of John’s Gospel. Ten chapters precede this remarkable
story, and ten chapters follow it. That wasn’t a mere coincidence. John
was making the point that this miracle is not just at the center of his
Gospel. The raising of Lazarus is at the
very center of Jesus’s ministry and mission.
This makes sense, doesn’t it? Because life and death are at the very center
of our lives too. We remember the
birth dates of our families and friends, even those who have passed away. And whenever the anniversary of the death of
a loved one rolls around, our wounds of grief reopen. Births and deaths form the milestones of so
much of our life together. It’s the same
within the Church. It’s customary in
most cases that a saint is commemorated on the date of their death, their
“birthday into heaven.” And on All
Saints Sunday, surrounded by this great cloud of witnesses before our altar, we
as a congregation take time to grieve together, remember together, and to draw strength from one another.
Today’s Gospel story overflows with
emotion. Take Mary’s words, for example. They are the same words her sister Martha
spoke to Jesus earlier in Chapter 11, and they contain equal parts pain and
pleading. “Lord, if you had been here,
my brother would not have died.” They
aren’t much different from the words my family was thinking and saying as my
father died this past February. There
were times when we blamed the medical system for not approving oxygen tanks for
him soon enough. There were times when we
blamed Dad for not being more proactive about taking care of his health. There were times when we blamed ourselves for
not doing more to address his declining condition. And there were times when we blamed Jesus
too. “Lord, if you had been here, he
wouldn’t have died – at least not now.”
Certainly you’ve thought or said similar
things. It’s a natural part of grieving,
not a crisis of faith. Jesus understands
that. And so through the astonishing
miracle of the raising of Lazarus, Jesus offers two gifts to us today. The first is in the words he spoke as he
stood before Lazarus’s tomb. “Did I not
tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” This points us to the promise, found
throughout the New Testament, that our death in mortality is not the last
word. There will be a resurrection, and
by the grace of Christ there will be new life. We encounter that promise again and again in the Bible, and we hear
those words at every funeral. None of
this is news to any of us here today.
But oftentimes that promise,
despite how wonderful it is, fails to fully mend our broken hearts because it’s
a promise that will be fulfilled someday in the future. Just as the promise of a meal next week will not stop the grumbling of a hungry stomach today, the future
promise of resurrection and new life, regardless how confident we are in that
promise, will not always be enough to stem the waves of grief and loneliness we
can feel in the present moment when dealing with the death of our beloveds.
And that leads us to Jesus’s second
gift in this story. Throughout our
Gospel lesson we see that Jesus is “greatly disturbed” and “deeply moved.” This translation seems unnecessarily tame
when you dig deeper into the underlying Greek text. We might more accurately say that Jesus is
shaken, overcome with emotion, overwhelmed, or even feeling anger. To be clear, he's not mad at Lazarus’s
sisters, Martha and Mary, for what they have said. Something else is going on. And that something else reaches its climax
even before Lazarus miraculously returns to life. Jesus began to weep. That, more than anything else, explains why
he was disturbed, overwhelmed, shaken, and angry. Jesus was deeply grieving.
Don’t rush past this. The tears of Jesus are vitally
important. Because he knows, even
more surely than any of us know, that death will never be the last
word. He knows that in just a few
moments, by his grace, mercy, and power, Lazarus is going to walk out of that
tomb. And Jesus knows that
everyone whose photograph is before our altar today will be resurrected and
have new life one day. And yet despite
the fullness of his power and authority, and the completeness of his knowledge
concerning life, death, and the end of all time, Jesus began to weep.
Why? Friends, in Jesus we do not only have a
savior who’s fully divine. We
have a companion in all the ups and downs of life who’s also fully human. Jesus understands firsthand what it means to
feel pain and to die. He also understands
what it means to lose someone you love. He
weeps because his heart breaks at the thought of a world without Lazarus in
it. He weeps because his heart
aches at the pain Martha and Mary are experiencing. And he weeps because he knows that the
death and resurrection of Lazarus is preparing his followers for what Jesus must
also experience in the near future on a hill outside the walls of Jerusalem.
Jesus weeps. And if amid his sinless perfection and
understanding he can weep, then so can we, even though we trust
that one day we will be reunited with Jesus and all our loved ones in
heaven. We can weep today, tomorrow, and
in all the days to come. Jesus’s tears
did not signal a crisis of faith, and they do not indicate a lack of faith on
our part either. Those tears are simply
the ongoing echo of a heartbeat of love and relationship that we will continue
to experience until the day when we finally join our dear ones in the heavenly
cloud of witnesses.
This All Saints Sunday I can’t help
but reflect upon my father’s death. His
lungs, scarred with COPD, had been steadily fading for quite some time, but
still, we weren’t prepared when he suddenly collapsed in the car as mom was
driving. I remember when it happened;
how could I ever forget? It was Tuesday,
February 13. That night was our church
council meeting, and I had to keep excusing myself from the meeting to get
updates on dad’s condition and to provide counsel and support for mom.
The next day was Ash Wednesday, and
my heart was heavy knowing that dad was alive only due to machines that were
breathing for him. “Remember that you
are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Those are the words I said over and over that day in our two
services. Never before did their gravity
and reality weigh so heavily upon me. Dad
finally slipped away to heaven, quietly and peacefully, just a few days later,
on Sunday, February 18. I got the news
from my brother in a phone call between morning worship services here.
Notice that each of those moments I’ve
just described has one important thing in common: I experienced them here,
within the embrace of Christ and Christ’s Church. I’m so glad it worked out that way. Because it’s here, surrounded by Christ and
Christ’s people, that I felt most comforted and at peace. And it’s here, within the Church, that I
could greet the torrent of emotion that comes with death and simultaneously
feel the hope and reassurance of Christ’s promise of resurrection and new life.
Friends, that’s why it’s so
important that we are here in Church today. Because we all need to hear once again that
Jesus has won the victory over sin and death for us and for all of our
beloveds. But here, within the embrace
of Christ’s Church and the embrace of one another, it’s just as important that
we hear that Jesus wept… for Lazarus, for Martha, for Mary, for himself…
and for us. And because he weeps, so can
we. Amen.
Copyright Rev. Scott E. Schul, 2024 All rights reserved. May not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.
Gospel
Text: John 11:32-44
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.” 33 When
Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was
greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said,
“Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus
began to weep. 36 So the Jews said, “See how he loved
him!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the
eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
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, you would see the glory
of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And 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 that you sent me.” 43 When
he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 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.”
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