Gospel Reading: John 11:1-44
Homily
As I was reading through this weeks gospel, I realized that there are a few things missing from the story. I found myself wondering, if one were to be raised from the dead, like Lazarus, what does the rest of the day look like? I mean. imagine if Jesus pulled you from your grave, dusted you off, and went on his merry way, leaving you with, well, with the rest of you life to live. I imagine Lazarus maybe went home and had a glass of wine or two, which is certainly what I would probably be doing, that and buying a lottery ticket. Or maybe he had a whole feast and celebrated with friends and family. That certainly seems like something Lazarus might have done. But, what about the day after that? Or the day after that? Or the rest of his second life while he waited for his second death, the one preceding eternal life?
Although we don’t know how Lazarus lived the rest of his life, we do know that he eventually died (again). Because everyone dies. And in first-century Bethany, now in current day Palestine, people knew intimately of death and disease. There was poor sanitation, no modern medicine, and most had very few resources. So, Lazarus’s death would have been a rather unremarkable one.
Of course, if this were just a story about a person dying in first century Bethany, it wouldn’t be much of a story at all. the most important part of this Gospel story is the raising of Lazarus, which is often referred to as Jesus’ “greatest miracle” and one that in John’s Gospel, ultimately lead to Jesus’s crucifixion. In Jesus’ ministry this had happened only twice before, once with the daughter of Jairus, and again with the son of the widow of Nain. But neither of those really stand out as much as the raising of Lazarus. Now, the theological implication of this story is obvious to many Christians. Lazarus’s raising from the dead is the precursor to the crucifixion and resurrection. Jesus died and rose again so that we could all have eternal life. (And if there are any fundamentalists listening, I really do mean all.)
But…maybe there’s more to the story. I was at work this past week when the story of Lazarus came to my mind. Currently, outside of this church I work as a caregiver and volunteer as a hospice companion, where I accompany many people in their final days on this earth. Many of us, regardless of age, view death from afar, but once you see it up close, your perspective changes. It’s a bit like standing on flat ground and watching two trains traveling on parallel tracks. It looks like they’re about to collide, but thats just our perspective. We know that they won’t, and that everything will be just fine. In the same way, sometimes when we view things one way, they look entirely different. Sometimes it may feel like we’re on a collision course, like so many things are out of control and we’re worried about what will come next, when really, it will all turn out okay in the end. Which is another way of saying that there’s a lot of power in changing your perspective.
I don’t know what it was, but I came home from a quiet shift at work last week, and my perspective on my own life and inevitable death started to shift—just a little. Suddenly all of the burdens in my life seemed a lot smaller. Suddenly, my perspective on the chapter of life I’m currently in started to shift. And it wasn’t so much that I thought I needed to be doing anything drastically different, but that maybe I ought to be looking at the way I was already living through a different lens. I imagined that, like Lazarus, I was raised from the dead and had a second lease on life, and then, all of the small things I’d taken for granted became blessings. Right now, today, I can go outside and feel the fresh air and the breeze, and the sun on my face. I can go home to my warm, cozy house. I can spend precious time with people I care about. I imagined if one day all of that was gone, and Jesus came along and gave it back to me. What if I lived my life with that kind of gratitude for the abundance of blessings I already have? What if I woke up every day like I’d been raised like Lazarus, knowing that everything I have is a gift and that it’s only mine for a moment? In the words of Mary Oliver, “doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
Like Lazarus, we are the ones whom Jesus loves and who we can trust to keep raising us even when we don’t even realize it. Perhaps the story of Lazarus’s raising is an invitation to recognize all of the ways that God is continually working in our lives, renewing us, raising us.
Our Lady of Light 