Dear Friends,
As Jesus stood bereft before the tomb of his beloved friend, Lazarus, he gave three commands:
Roll away the stone.
Lazarus, come forth.
Unbind him. Let him go free.
In Turkey and Syria in February, the stones entombed unsuspecting people who lived in apartment buildings leveled by earthquakes. Many died, but some, caught beneath the rubble, experienced life anew as rescue workers “rolled away the stone and unbound” the entombed.
That experience was graphic for us to witness but the call of Jesus applies to our contemporaries to come forth from the tombs of their lives. They will need to want to come forth, but it is up to us, neighbor, friend, family member, co-inhibitor of the earth, to roll away the stone and unbind them. And when we ourselves are imprisoned and invited to come forth, only others, attentive to the need, can roll back the stone and unbind us.
But let’s turn to another aspect of the story.
Since Bethany was only about two miles from Jerusalem, word of the raising of Lazarus traveled quickly to the high priests in the holy city. These officials convoked the Sanhedrin and decided that Jesus had gone too far. He must die.
Jesus, weeping over Lazarus, in fact stood at the opening of His own grave. Raising Lazarus had set His own passion in motion. Through His passion and death, Jesus would lead Lazarus, Martha, Mary and all of His disciples – you and me – through the tomb into new life.
We get so absorbed in Jesus and Lazarus in this account, that we fail to see Martha and Mary. They must have consoled one another before Jesus arrived with what could have been a mantra. “Lord,” each said, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Martha and Mary thought of Jesus as a wonderworker. But Jesus called Martha to a deeper faith, to believe that He is God, the giver of life. Jesus would die on the cross, yes, but He would live again forever. “Do you believe this?” Jesus asked Martha.
“Yes, Lord,” Martha replied. “I believe you are the Christ, the Son of God.”
Earlier in the Gospel of John, Peter makes a profession of faith in Jesus. Now, close to His entrance into Jerusalem, Martha makes the same profession of faith.
Will we?
Closing in on Holy Week, with its drama, awe, sadness and bleakness, will we make a profession of faith?
Will we say,
Jesus, I believe in you. Help my unbelief.
Jesus, your own death helps me make sense of the
many deaths I know in life, including my own.
Help my unbelief.
Jesus, let me come with you into the garden,
Into your trial, into the way of your cross.
Help my unbelief.
~Sister Joan Sobala
Jesus, weeping over Lazarus, in fact stood at the opening of His own grave. Raising Lazarus had set His own passion in motion. Through His passion and death, Jesus would lead Lazarus, Martha, Mary and all of His disciples – you and me – through the tomb into new life.
We get so absorbed in Jesus and Lazarus in this account, that we fail to see Martha and Mary. They must have consoled one another before Jesus arrived with what could have been a mantra. “Lord,” each said, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Martha and Mary thought of Jesus as a wonderworker. But Jesus called Martha to a deeper faith, to believe that He is God, the giver of life. Jesus would die on the cross, yes, but He would live again forever. “Do you believe this?” Jesus asked Martha.
“Yes, Lord,” Martha replied. “I believe you are the Christ, the Son of God.”
Earlier in the Gospel of John, Peter makes a profession of faith in Jesus. Now, close to His entrance into Jerusalem, Martha makes the same profession of faith.
Will we?
Closing in on Holy Week, with its drama, awe, sadness and bleakness, will we make a profession of faith?
Will we say,
Jesus, I believe in you. Help my unbelief.
Jesus, your own death helps me make sense of the
many deaths I know in life, including my own.
Help my unbelief.
Jesus, let me come with you into the garden,
Into your trial, into the way of your cross.
Help my unbelief.
~Sister Joan Sobala
