Lazarus' Perspective

My aunt Diana and my uncle Russell were always late. And not just late by a few minutes, late by four hours! We would expect a visit from them and they were once four hours late! So we waited and stewed and waited. And I'll never forget the two of them barreling out of their station wagon, their two boys piling out behind them, full of smiles and candy and apologies. It was hard to stay mad at them because they were so much fun!

Jesus was late for Lazarus. He was intentionally late and not just by a few hours, but two days! They sent a messenger to him about Lazarus' illness but he didn't take off the moment that he heard. He waited. Of course, the disciples didn't think that he should go at all. It was dangerous territory. The Jews were planning on stoning him if he returned to the area in and around Jerusalem and that's where Lazarus lived, in Bethany, just a short walk from Jerusalem.

So Jesus alienates everyone. He ignores the advice of his disciples who don't want to go into danger, and yet he waits to go, so that by the time he arrives Lazarus is dead and his sisters are distraught.

“If you were here, my brother would not have died!” Martha and Mary both say this. You can just see them, standing there with their hands on their hips, wild-eyes with exhaustion and anger. Where had Jesus been? Was he their friend or not?

But let's think of this from Jesus' perspective. He knew God. Or I should say, he knows God. For Jesus, eternal life is already here. Death is just a transition, a journey to another place, closer to God. Resurrection was within his very self.

So Jesus was not upset about Lazarus' dying. He knew that Lazarus would be an occasion for a great miracle, to glorify God. And he knew that death was not the enemy.

But when he arrives at the home of his friends, Jesus becomes upset. He sees grief first hand. He sees fear and anger and abandonment in the eyes of some of his dearest friends. He sees the loneliness that comes when someone that you love leaves. He sees the depth of the human ignorance and fear that surrounds death and it is that darkness, it is that pain that makes him cry. He cries for us, for those who are left behind, not for the dead.

Diana and her family used to go skiing. Her husband and boys loved to go over a ski jump. It terrified Diana. She would describe the jump as if it were over a ten foot gorge. But when her boys and her husband arrived safely on the other side, and they dared her to follow, she would go. Racing down the mountain, she would scream all the way. And when she landed safely on the other side, she would hoot and holler.

They found a melanoma in Diana's eye last year. By the time it was removed, it had spread. She died six months later.

I know that she made it over the gorge of death to be with Christ on the other side. I know that she whooped it up when she saw the beauty and majesty of the face of God. But her husband and her boys wept at her funeral. And I cried too. I cried for them, not for her. For she has Lazarus' perspective now. Diana is fine. It is the rest of us who remain in pain, hoping and trusting that there is indeed something wonderful on the other side.

- The Very Rev. Kate Moorehead

Sunday, August 31, 2008