In his grief, Jesus wept

John 11:1-45

Grace and peace to you from God our strength and our support.

At the end of last week, you might remember, it snowed.  I know I’ve told this story, but I’ve thought of it since then.  My kids were so excited when it snowed they asked if we could play “Joy to the World” which was the song that they sang for the Christmas pageant at church. I obliged and put on the Nat King Cole version, and wouldn’t you know it, we ended up listening to the entire album.  Clearly in the middle of All The Weirdness that is life right now, we needed a little reminder that God Emmanuel was with us.

When God became human in Jesus, that meant that God experienced the whole spectrum of human emotions.  In our story today, one of Jesus’ best friends, Lazarus, is super sick and the side of Jesus that was fully human was feeling it deep in his bones. When Lazarus gets sick, his sisters send word to Jesus and ask him to come. When Jesus finally does come, he’s too late. Lazarus has already died. So Martha runs to meet him, “Lord, where were you!” she asks.  And then her sister Mary says the same thing: “Where were you! What happened?” By the time he gets to the village of Bethany, the bible says Jesus is “greatly disturbed.”

Sometimes we’ve got to put a little imagination around the words scripture gives.  So when the story says that Jesus was greatly disturbed, did that mean devastated? Heartbroken at what has happened?  Whatever he felt, it was strong, because the bible story repeats it: He was greatly disturbed.

All things considered, I could show you a little greatly disturbed right now. A lot of the world is now affected by Covid-19.  We know this: businesses and people’s incomes are affected. The government in the country of India is mobilizing to deliver basic food supplies so that people simply have enough to eat.  Chicago is preparing for more infections. New York is in crisis. We know of people—we are people--who are starting to get sick. The markets are bouncing all over the place. We’re worried about loved ones and at the same time, we’re trying to hold steady and go through the motions of making dinner, going for walks, and helping with schoolwork.  Some of us still go to our workplaces. Some of us are completely “sheltering at home.” We’ve lost so much of what feels normal like our physical connection with people; and all while the earth is rumbling under us.

Things are weird and unsettled and, to use scripture’s words, we could say that things are “greatly disturbing.” In today’s bible story, when Jesus arrives in Bethany and finds his very dear friend, Lazarus, dead, the truth of how much has been lost just hits him; and in a moment of utter humanity, he breaks down and weeps.  So much has been lost.  And so much will be lost.  The Divine side of Jesus knows that soon, he will return to this very house of his friends Lazarus, Mary and Martha where Mary will anoint him with costly nard.  Soon, he will wash his disciple’s feet. Soon, a warrant for his arrest will go out. Soon, he will be crucified at the hands of the state.  Soon, so much will be lost. And Jesus weeps.

We get that: thinking of the loss that has hit us and wondering about the loss to come. In an interview last week, David Kessler talked about the anticipatory grief we’re all feeling.  Usually we feel this kind of grief when someone gets a bad diagnosis or we know that a big storm like a hurricane is coming. Right now, there’s a virus out there that we can’t control.  We’re grieving what feels lost. And we’re anticipating what could be lost.

David Kessler, actually co-wrote a pretty famous little book about the five stages of grief and in the interview last week, he reflected on how those five stages could play out right now:   “There’s denial,” he says, “which we see a lot of early on: This virus won’t affect us. There’s anger: You’re making me stay home and taking away my activities. There’s bargaining: Okay, if I social distance for two weeks, everything will be better, right? There’s sadness: I don’t know when this will end. And finally there’s acceptance. This is happening; I have to figure out how to proceed.” I recognize all of those stages in me at different times. There is much to grieve for.

In our bible story, Although Mary and Martha are upset and disappointed, they don’t expect Jesus to come in and fix it.  But they do count on Jesus to be their hope and to restore life in a world that is full of death and grief.

You see, it’s just at the point in the gospel when things are going to get terrible, that Jesus gives the people this sign and he raises Lazarus from the dead.  “Lazarus, come out!” he says, and in the midst of the absolute most terrible thing they could have imagined (the death of one of their dearest community members) life triumphs over death and Lazarus comes out of the tomb.

Life persists over death. It does all the time in so many small ways. In the way we bring joy to people. In the way the community cares for one another. I mean, you can’t cancel church the way you cancel a basketball game.  The church goes on being the church.  Even on a normal week, we gather together as the church and then we scatter out into our various worlds that God blesses us with.  To take care of our neighbor, to bring life to places of death in Jesus name.

Taking care of our neighbor looks differently today than it did a month ago. But it’s still our call as church. It’s in the person who calls and says I’m going to the grocery store, what can I bring you?  It’s in the texting and calling and zooming and checking in with people.  It’s in the positivity, kindness, the encouraging word and the hopefulness.  (It’s also in the sharing when we’re not okay and opening a space for people to be encouraging or supportive.) It’s in the extravagant tip to the person who brought your groceries.  It’s in the financial generosity for the people who need it in our midst.

A few members of the praise band recently recorded a version of “Great is thy Faithfulness” that is posted on our social media.  The chorus sings, “beginning to end, my life in your hands, great, great is your faithfulness.”

I’ve been thinking of this. You see, Jesus never promised that bad things wouldn’t happen. But Jesus did promise to be with us in the good and the bad, in the storm and the sunshine, in the grief and anxiety.  Jesus promises to be with us. God is faithful. Beginning to end, our life in His hands.  God grieves with us, wraps Her arms around us, works through us for healing, and is quietly working to coax life out of death. For nothing, nothing, nothing  can separate us from the love of God. Amen