The Raising of Lazarus
oil on canvas, 1608-9
Caravaggio (1573-1610), Italy
Museo Regionale, Messina, Sicily, Italy
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The Raising of Lazarus |
Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany,
the village of Mary and her sister Martha.
So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.”
But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death;
rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorifies through it.”
Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus,
after having heard that Lazarus was ill,
he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
Then after this, he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.”
The disciples said to him,
“Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?”
He told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep,
but I am going there to awaken him.”
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days.
Many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them.
When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him,
while Mary stayed at home.
Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.
But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask.”
Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”
Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.”
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life.
Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,
and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
She said, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah.”
She went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately,
“The Teacher is here and is calling for you.”
And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him.
The Jews who were with her, consoling her, followed her
because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there.
When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said,
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping,
he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.
He said, “Where have you laid him?”
They said to him, “Lord, come and see.”
Jesus began to weep.
So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb.
It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it.
Jesus said, “Take away the stone.”
Martha said, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her,
“Did I not tell you that it you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
So they took away the stone.
And Jesus looked upward and said,
“Father, I thank you for having heard me. 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.”
When he said this, he cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”
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.”
Martha
The other disciples may have fought for Jesus’ attention but such was never the case in my family. We were as close to Jesus as anyone. We were like family to him, as familiar as sisters and brothers. When Jesus was in Bethany, he stayed with us, ate with us, shared his deepest thoughts with us, and we, with him. My friends, a person cannot choose a family to be born into, but the family that supports you, nourishes your spirit, laughs with you, cries with you, that family you may seek out. Such was our relationship to Jesus. We gladly welcomed him as our brother, our friend, our spiritual guide, and we felt privileged that Jesus held a special place for us in his heart. After all, he was an extraordinary teacher, a great healer, a remarkable and charismatic leader. He was surrounded by people and could have gathered almost anyone to sit within the smallest circle of his trusted friends. And yet, he chose us. He wanted us, Mary and Lazarus and me, to be the friends of his heart.
This was all the more surprising because, Jesus really seemed to prefer the poor and, I have to confess to you, my friends, we were not poor. We lived a fairly comfortable life and we knew how blessed we were, Mary and I. Not many women had means independent of their fathers or husbands. Mary and I did. We were free to live without worry of starvation or homelessness. We were free to live as self-governing women because we were somewhat wealthy. And Jesus loved us nevertheless.
Far more important than possessions, however, was our rich family life. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have close ties within their natural family, but we did. Never were sister and brother as devoted as were Mary and Lazarus and I. That doesn’t mean we were perfect. We had our moments, our family tiffs. You probably heard about that time Jesus came over for dinner and Mary just sat there listening to him like a useless bump on a cedar log while I ran around the kitchen doing everything myself. We had a long talk after Jesus left, let me tell you.
We were all quite different, especially Mary and I. Mary was the dreamer. I was the practical one. Mary was full of passion. I was the voice of reason. Mary had a wonderful imagination. I was more down to earth. I was older and so, naturally, I was more responsible but Mary had a free spirit that was enviable. As you know, our differences led to sisterly squabbles now and then but most of the time, we worked well together.
Mary and I took care of our dear brother, Lazarus. Lazarus had, spread before him, all the freedoms and opportunities that a young man of means often has in this world. He did not abuse those freedoms, however. Lazarus was a very special child of God, full of faith and hope, generous with who he was and what he had. He dearly loved Jesus and was an enthusiastic disciple. Mary and I watched over Lazarus, not only as sisters, but almost as mothers since our own mother and father were no longer with us on this earth. I may have babied him a bit, preparing his favorite meals frequently, giving too much advice at times, doting on him when he was sick or troubled. I have to say that I adored my brother and, as the oldest person left in our family, I felt especially responsible for him, perhaps more so than Mary.
My friends, I will never forget the night Lazarus fell so desperately ill. It all happened so suddenly. A fast moving fever took hold of him and would not let him go.
Mary and I offered him strong wine and tried to keep him warm. It was near the end of winter and the weather was not very cool. Nevertheless, Lazarus said he was chilled to the bone. He was shaking like a fisherman rescued from a cold stormy sea. His health went from bad to worse with frightening speed. Mary and I felt certain that, if Jesus were with us, he would know just what to do. He would know how to help. He would know how to heal poor Lazarus of this cruel affliction that so swiftly threatened his life.
So we sent for him. We knew he was staying by the Jordan River near the place where John had baptized him, about fifteen miles from our home. We sent a young boy known for his quick feet to run and give Jesus this message: “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” We paid the boy handsomely to deliver our desperate plea. I knew Jesus would come. I had every confidence that he would come. He loved us. He loved Lazarus. Surely, he would come without delay.
But he did not. We waited and waited and watched helplessly as our beloved brother failed. It is a terrible thing to watch a loved one die and to know there is nothing that can be done but to hold a hand tenderly and offer assurances of abiding love. I wished it were me, and not Lazarus, lying there racked with fever and pain. I would have done anything to stop this voracious disease. Two days after Jesus received the message of our brother’s grave condition, Lazarus left us. Just like that, our little brother was taken from us.
Mary was angry, so very angry. She blamed Jesus. We both got caught up in the terrible “If only’s.” If only we had sent for Jesus sooner. If only we had seen how sick Lazarus was from the very beginning. If only we had been more persuasive in our message to Jesus. “If only” is a trap. There is no end to it.
We knew Jesus was having a rough time. That winter, they attempted to stone him in Jerusalem and then, they tried to arrest him. We thought he was simply retreating from all that over there by the Jordan. So we couldn’t imagine why he did not come right away. “If only we had insisted,” Mary said, “that Jesus come stay with us after the trouble in Jerusalem. He could have rested right here in Bethany, in our home. Then he would have done something to stop the illness, to save Lazarus.” When Jesus was finally ready to come, his disciples tried to stop him. They thought that, in traveling through Judea to Bethany, Jesus would be putting himself in danger. He told them that he was coming anyway and that he was coming to wake Lazarus from death.
My friends, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of stories about Jesus that sound unbelievable and this may be one of them. I can’t make you believe it. Faith can never be forced. What you believe is between you and God. Many people back then thought there must be an explanation for what happened. Maybe Lazarus wasn’t really dead, they said.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me exactly how it happened. It only matters to me that Jesus came and that, by his holy hands, Lazarus was returned to us.
Here is what happened. Lazarus had been in the tomb, in his grave’s cloth, for four days when Jesus came, at last, to Bethany. Mary was still poisoned with anger and overcome with grief. In that moment, she did not wish to see Jesus. But, when I heard he was coming, I left the consolations of those friends who had come to visit us, and I went out to meet him. The first thing I said to him was this: “If only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” There, in his presence again, I was filled with faith, and so I added, “Even now, Lord, God will give you whatever you ask.” I had heard how Jesus raised Jairus’ daughter from the grave and I believed then as I believe now that, in God, all things are possible.
The first words Jesus spoke to me in that meeting, words that came as healing balm to my aching heart, were these: “Martha, your brother will rise again.” I thought he meant that Lazarus would be resurrected again into heaven. Jesus continued with an extraordinary declaration. He said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Then he asked me, “Do you believe this?” There was no anger left when I looked into those deep wells of compassion, his eyes, and said, “I believe. I believe you are the Messiah.”
Jesus wanted to see Mary so I went back to our home to convince her to come. There was no need to persuade her, however. She left with me right away. I told her what Jesus said but she seemed not to hear me. She was weeping endlessly. Her eyes were stinging with anguish. Several of our friends followed us because they thought she was taking her sorrow to the tomb again and they wanted to comfort her. When she saw Jesus, Mary collapsed at his feet in a great puddle of tears. She managed to speak and, not surprisingly, she said just what I had. “If only you had been here. If only, Lord. If only.” Mary’s obvious woe was very upsetting to Jesus. He was so moved by the grief she could, in no way, conceal. Right away he wanted to know where Lazarus was and our friends offered to take him to the tomb. It was then that Jesus himself could no longer contain his sorrow. He wept with Mary. He shared her tears. It was a moment that remains fresh in my memory.
We all went to the tomb and our friends moved the stone that sealed Lazarus within it. I objected because it had been four days already and time is so unkind to the dead. But Jesus told me to be of strong faith and to expect nothing less than the glory of God. Jesus prayed passionately to God and after that, he told Lazarus to come out. And he did. Our brother, wrapped up in the cloth of a dead man, came out. Jesus told us to unbind him and to let him go. And we did. Don’t ask me to explain it or to prove it. Faith does not seek proof.
This is what I know. I know that my brother was returned to me. And this is what I think. I think the power of Jesus’ healing ability grew out of the depth of his love. Never have I seen such love, a love that flowed like a river from heaven, touching all who would dip into its waters, especially the sick, the lame, the poor, the brokenhearted.
What happened that day was a taste of what was to come for Jesus. In some ways, the raising of Lazarus from death prepared us for the resurrection of Jesus himself. Jesus, my brother, our brother, teaches us never to underestimate the power of God’s love to heal and to save. Sickness is unavoidable. Death is inevitable. I am sure that you have known great sorrow and pain in your own lifetime or that you will. No one escapes grief and pain but I am hoping that my story will offer you some assurance.
Have faith, my friends. Have faith that God is with you. It may seem at times that God is not watching over you, but know this, my friends. God never leaves you. God cares about you without ceasing. We deal in hours and in days that seem so important but God works within the realm of eternity. God’s ways are not our ways. God’s time is not our time. But God hears our cries and, in Jesus Christ, shares our tears. Have faith in Jesus’ words, “I am the resurrection and the life.” And know this, my friends: Love is stronger than any illness. Indeed, love is stronger than death.
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You are welcome to use these narratives for worship or study but please give the author, Sarah M. Foulger, credit for the writing - and consider making a contribution to the Congregational Church of Boothbay Harbor P.O. Box 468, Boothbay Harbor, Maine 04538.. www.congregationalchurchboothbayharbor.org
Sarah M. Foulger may be contacted at: sarahfoulger@gmail.com