Benjamin Franklin gets credit
for the familiar saying, “In this world, nothing is certain except death
and taxes.” There’s no arguing the point, but for all their certainty,
we avoid dealing with death and taxes as much as we can. April 15 gets
in the way, of course, and when it comes to death, many people don’t
even like to use the word, preferring euphemisms like “passed” and
“passed away.” But no matter how much we may avoid the word, we can’t
escape the reality, can we? Nor will we!
As a priest, I
deal a lot with death and, to be honest, I can get overwhelmed by it.
Not so much by death itself: in the main, I think I’ve come to a place
of peace there. Most of the time! No, I’m overwhelmed not so much by
death itself as by how often I have to deal with it and by the awful
toll it takes - on the person dying and on family and loved ones. It’s a
daunting and difficult thing to accompany people in the grief that
engulfs them when a loved one has died. I find myself wishing I had a
magic wand to wave and take it all away but, of course, there is no
magic wand, and there really aren’t any words, either. Sometimes all I
can do is to be silently and lovingly and prayerfully present, and leave
the rest to God.
In today’s story
of the death and raising of Lazarus, we get a window onto what Jesus did
in the face of death. But before I get into that, let me remind you that
we are in John’s gospel and, as with all the great stories in John’s
gospel, there is more than one layer of meaning. That was true of the
story of the woman at the well two weeks ago, and of the story of the
man born blind last week, and it’s true of this story. This is a story
not only about Lazarus’ untimely death and Jesus raising him from the
dead, it’s also a story about Jesus’ desire to bring people to faith.
This is clear from the rather surprising little detail in the story
where, after hearing that Lazarus was ill, Jesus waited for two whole
days before going to him. The reason for this becomes clear from the
words that Jesus prayed before he called Lazarus forth from the tomb.
“Father, I thank you for having heard me. I know that you always hear
me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd that they may believe
that you sent me.” So, this is not only a story of Jesus miraculously
bringing his friend back from the dead, John also presents it as a sign,
a sign that manifests the glory of God, a sign that has the power to
bring people to faith. In him.
Now, back to the
window we get onto what Jesus did in the face of death. It’s best seen
in the different ways Jesus dealt with Martha and Mary, the sisters of
Lazarus. You may have noticed that both of them, when they met Jesus,
said the same thing to him: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother
would never have died.” But with Martha, Jesus seems almost removed,
content to stay at the level of faith, telling her, “Your brother will
rise again,” and “I am the resurrection and the life.” But when Mary,
the more outwardly emotional of the two, falls at Jesus’ feet weeping,
we are told that he was “troubled in spirit, moved by the deepest
emotions.” And not only that, when he asked where the tomb was, we are
told – in what must be the shortest verse in all the gospels – that
“Jesus wept.” There is a lot packed into those two words, and you can
see what I mean about getting a window onto Jesus. It’s easy to picture
the scene, isn’t it? Jesus is very human, touchingly so. He is clearly
one of us. Vulnerable. At the mercy of his emotions.
My friends, the
Jesus we meet here is one I can easily relate to and I trust you can,
too. I often think of that scene when I’m dealing with a dying
parishioner or with the family of someone who has died, or with someone
in my own family, for that matter. As with Jesus, tears do come – to my
eyes often enough. Other times they overflow in my heart.
There is
one other little window onto Jesus in the story. It’s in the words Jesus
speaks after he calls Lazarus forth from the tomb. “Untie him,” he says,
“and let him go free.” It’s one thing for Jesus to want his friend to
live; it’s another for him to want him to be free, free from the things
that get in the way of living life to the full, things that lessen a
person’s lease on life: crippling things like fear, doubt, anxiety and
struggles of whatever kind.
My friends, I
believe that Jesus speaks those same words to us: “Untie him, untie her.
Let them go free.” (He speaks those words in a special way to our Elect
who will soon be baptized.) He wants us (and he wants them) to be
‘untied,’ unbound, free - free to walk in the light of day, the light of
faith, the light of life. There are so many things that can get in the
way of this. Jesus wants us to be free of every one of them.
My friends, this
freedom we will fully possess only when we come to terms with death –
it’s finality, yes, but also its finitude. For even though death is
inevitable and inescapable, it does not get the last word. Life does. It
always does. That is our firm belief. It is the very foundation of our
faith. It is what we will be celebrating in the coming holy days, and it
is what we celebrate now, and every time we gather together to break the
Bread of the Eucharist, the Bread of Life. We who eat this Bread will
live forever!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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