WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT LAZARUS?
John 11: 32-44
What do we do about Lazarus? What do
we do with a story of a man in the Bible who is declared dead, is covered with
cloth in a tomb, who Jesus goes in to see, and the dead man comes out alive?
What do we do about Lazarus when YOU wish that had happened to your brother or
sister; your husband or wife; your son or daughter? What do we do with the
general perception that miracles happened in Biblical times, but now they don’t
as often as when Jesus walked the earth? “Does God still care?” people ask. Where do we find miracles today? The media has
gone to Catholic Churches where people have claimed to see a bleeding crucifix,
a weeping statue of Mary, or an image of Mary on the glass of a bank building.
But, of course, the church is in the
miracle business, isn’t it? Can we find any skeptical source of data that would
support the idea of miracles happening in our day? Scientists are good choices,
generally working with data. Doctors and nurses may have faith, but they are also
trained in medicine and reality.
There was a man-Lazarus- who rose from
the dead in the first century. Do we have such hope in the twenty-first
century? On December 27, 2008, doctors delivered
devastating news to the Kirby family: Officer Ken Kirby of Seneca, South Carolina
had died of a massive heart attack. The officer, taking down Christmas
decorations, had flat lined at home. Paramedics resuscitated him, but at the
hospital, his heart stopped again. They felt no pulse; they covered his body and
dejectedly walked to the waiting room to say they had done all they could. His
wife walked in to say goodbye to her husband. It was after her goodbyes that an
alert nurse picked up a faint pulse, and then a heartbeat. On Tuesday January
27th, one month after
being declared dead, he and his family appeared with Matt Lauer on the “Today”
show. His community had dubbed him “Officer Lazarus.” What do we do about
“Officer Lazarus,” if and when our own loved ones don’t survive? What does it
say about Jesus? What does it say about us? Twenty-one years ago Janek Grzebska
was living in Communist Poland where the streets were gray, food was rationed,
and he was a railway worker who got a serious head
injury on the job. He went into a coma, becoming totally unresponsive. He
stayed unresponsive for days; then days led to weeks; and weeks led to years.
There is no report on why this man did not have a plug pulled, but it was
certain that those around him saw he had slipped into a deep sleep. Jesus said
that Lazarus was just “sleeping” but all who heard him knew that being “put to
sleep” or “sleeping” was a euphemism for death. Janek was in a state of “sleep”
for—you won’t believe this—nineteen years! On June 5, 2007, Janek was actually interviewed
by Polish Television reporter. Communism was no more and many foods were
available that weren’t before. Besides that, people of all ages were talking as
they walked around; he wondered if the world had become delirious. “No” his
family explained to him. “Those are new inventions called cell phones and Blue
tooth ear devices! Nineteen years; thirty days; the list could certainly go on.
What do we do about Lazarus?
Lazarus, from Biblical accounts in
John, was a friend of Jesus, as were his sisters, Mary and Martha. It seems
that Jesus would stop by Bethany first when he
came to Jerusalem and later when he needed time
away from Jerusalem.
And, of course, in those days, ways to determine death were more difficult;
there was no glass to hold under a man’s nose to look for steam caused by
breathing; there were no sensitive monitors to check for a pulse. What they
had, instead, was a law put forth by Rabbis: if a man does not move for three
days, he is to be declared dead. Jesus saw an opportunity to illustrate what
would soon happen to him. He could have come to Lazarus when he first heard,
but it had not been three days, the death declaration day. And
so he waited, saddening Mary, Lazarus’ sister. Her sadness caused him
also to weep from the deep feelings of betrayal she seemed to be having toward
him. Jesus arrived four days after
Lazarus had been placed in the tomb (the normal procedure for the dead in the
first century.) We know the rest of the story: Lazarus comes out of the tomb
like some kind of Halloween trick, pulls off the bandages with which he had
been wrapped, and he walks into the arms of disbelieving but rejoicing sisters
and friends. What do we do about Lazarus? That question may haunt you. If
Lazarus was raised, then why not your loved one, and my loved one? Circumstances and reasons
differ for each illness, accident or death. What we don’t read, for example, is about all the other people who died in
and around Jerusalem
that week that did not come back from
the dead. Lazarus was an example of Jesus’
own resurrection, when he brought him
back to life after the third day. Jesus also healed a girl who was mistaken for
dead but was only sick; other than that, Lazarus is the sole recorded one that
Jesus raised one from death.
So our issue today is not why didn’t
this happen to my loved one too, for Lazarus
was not one of many raised, but the one and only. This are the story; the
one and only. We might wonder if a miracle might ever happen to someone we
know. After church several years ago, Woody Starrett had a massive stroke: he
could not speak and he could not move. With quick action by his wife Annette
and neighbor Jodi Pond, paramedics arrived and took him to the emergency room.
The doctor on staff said it was a major stroke and attended to him well. I
arrived and Woody, Annette, Jodi, and I prayed to God for healing. Today Woody is well, traveling, and going
about his life. When the doctor was asked if the medicine he gave Woody was
that good, the doctor replied. “No, it is not that good. It had to be your
prayers too that brought him back to being well.” That example some call “miracle.”
There are others too; they are not the matter of course, they are the
exception. Even our Heavenly Father lost a Son; God knows loss, and you know
loss. But God, and people who believe in God, turn tragedies into opportunities
for triumph: ships are safer because so many lost their lives in a liner called
Titanic; there is determination to
find a cure for melanoma because the deaths of young men like Billy Walter and
David Corcoran were made meaningful. And stronger construction codes are in
place in Florida
since Hurricane Andrew caused such loss in 1992. From death comes life; from darkness
comes light, and from our dark night of the soul comes the dawn of new days. Know that God weeps when you weep; know that
God knows loss as you know loss; but
know also that God loves you with an everlasting love and, if you will let God
do it, will put unfailing arms around you.
And God is not only the author of life, God also sent Jesus to tell you
that a place has been prepared for your loved one, and for you, if you want it.
The one who was in the beginning, will also be with us
in the end; and there will be a grand reunion. One day you’ll have that.
Let us close with a prayer to God
written by Thomas Dorsey, not the bandleader, but the Black writer of gospel
songs, who experienced great loss. But instead of letting God go, or saying
there is no God, he asked God to take his hand through the storm and through
the night, and to one day, lead him home. Let us pray with him, as we sing this
hymn, and close it with a prayerful “amen.” [ Sing
“Precious Lord, Take My Hand.]
Jeffrey A. Sumner
November 1, 2009