Lazarus

Extract 69
Lazarus died during the night. It's awful. Not only do we have to cope with the grief of losing such a dear friend but there's the unspoken accusation from the girls. Your son. Our friend. Why? I have no answers. So many deaths, so much pain, so much I don't understand. Where does this end? When do we see this kingdom of yours? How much more must we endure?

Extract 70
Jesus and his disciples arrived today, four days too late. The girls wouldn't go to see him at first. Martha and Mary, the most hospitable people I know, couldn't bring themselves to welcome him. Eventually Martha went and Jesus must have said something to her because she was able to persuade Mary to greet him as well. Finally, we all went to the tomb. I watched Jesus closely. He'd been saying to everyone that Lazarus would be raised from the dead. That he'd waited until he had died so that we could all witness this greater miracle. It sounded absurd even to me. So I watched him as we drew close to the tomb. As he saw the stone, sealed and immovable, the finality of death, as he heard the women begin to weep again, tears flooded down his face. I heard the whispers. 'See how much he loved him, a pity he couldn't have come sooner and healed him'. But he hadn't wept when he heard that Lazarus had died, he seemed genuinely to believe that this could end well.

So why the tears? It seemed to me that it was the scene at the tomb not the death of his friend that was moving him. Why Jesus, why?

Extract 71
I hardly need to write what happened next, everyone knows! Jesus turned to the servants and told them to roll back the stone. We were all horrified. Martha was first to react 'No, Jesus, please' then trying to think of a reason to stop this from getting any worse 'he's been dead four days, the body will have started to decompose...'. More than a reason, the hint of an accusation, a warning – you could have played a part in this, but you chose not to, now stop trying to make it alright, it's too late. But in the gentle way Jesus has, he persisted. 'Lazarus is not dead, death does not have the last word' and I remembered the little girl and hope rose in me again. I looked at Martha and held her gaze. Eventually she nodded and the servants reluctantly rolled the stone back. Jesus stepped forward, lifted his hands and prayed. Everyone was nervous, superstition mingled with anticipation but none of us was prepared for what happened. As he finished praying Jesus called out in a loud voice 'Lazarus, come out'. It was so extraordinary, yet so natural. It sounded as if he were calling to his friend to come out of the house to see something interesting.

But he wasn't he was calling to a man four days dead. For the longest moment there was nothing but growing anticlimax and disappointment. Then from the shadows, movement and Lazarus, struggling with the burial bandages stumbled into the light. No-one moved, there were no cheers, no cries, nothing. Lazarus stumbled forward and Jesus spoke gently again. 'Friends, unbind him'.

Sometimes with Jesus there is a greater miracle on offer than mere healing. In our desperation to avoid the pain of death we had almost missed the joy of resurrection.