Jesus Wept...
The fifth Sunday of Lent gives us the liturgical year’s longest gospel short of the the Passion itself on Palm Sunday. It is the seventh and the last of the great “signs” in John’s Gospel, pointing us, propelling us, towards the Great Sign of the Cross itself: Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection, into which we enter next Sunday.
In urban parishes, with crowded Masses every 90 minutes, the Lazarus Gospel calls for a short homily. But since most of you are accustomed to long lectures, we can permit ourselves a little more time on these remarkable readings. On the other hand, the Lazarus reading itself counsels brevity, as it contains the shortest verse in the entire Bible. All the Protestant kids in my high school knew this verse, famous in Bible quizzes—John 11:35, “Jesus wept.” Two words only, but two words that reveal much about the Incarnate God. Christ stood before his friend’s grave, even foreseeing the Resurrection, and he wept. God weeps for us when we die. St. Augustine writes in his commentary on St. John’s Gospel: “Christ wept. Let man also weep for himself. For why did Christ weep, but to teach man to weep?” It is meek and just to weep holy tears with Him over sin and the wages of sin, the death of the body.
The fifth Sunday of Lent gives us the liturgical year’s longest gospel short of the the Passion itself on Palm Sunday. It is the seventh and the last of the great “signs” in John’s Gospel, pointing us, propelling us, towards the Great Sign of the Cross itself: Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection, into which we enter next Sunday.
In urban parishes, with crowded Masses every 90 minutes, the Lazarus Gospel calls for a short homily. But since most of you are accustomed to long lectures, we can permit ourselves a little more time on these remarkable readings. On the other hand, the Lazarus reading itself counsels brevity, as it contains the shortest verse in the entire Bible. All the Protestant kids in my high school knew this verse, famous in Bible quizzes—John 11:35, “Jesus wept.” Two words only, but two words that reveal much about the Incarnate God. Christ stood before his friend’s grave, even foreseeing the Resurrection, and he wept. God weeps for us when we die. St. Augustine writes in his commentary on St. John’s Gospel: “Christ wept. Let man also weep for himself. For why did Christ weep, but to teach man to weep?” It is meek and just to weep holy tears with Him over sin and the wages of sin, the death of the body.
Dry Bones
As we draw closer to Passiontide, though, the Scriptures raise the Christian’s hope to unmeasurable levels. In the Old Testament reading, Yahweh promises resurrection, referring to Ezekiel’s vision of a vast plain filled with human bones. In the verses just prior to our First Reading, Ezekiel relates how God “made me walk among [these bones] in every direction so that I saw how many they were on the surface of the plain. How dry they were!” In the end, each of us must lay our bones down in some charnel house, conceding death’s triumph over every living being. But five centuries before Lazarus, Ezekiel prophecies Resurrection. Yahweh commands him, “prophecy, Son of Man, over these bones.” The prophet obeys, heedless of the shame. What was dead regains its original purity and vibrancy.
Likewise, St. Paul urges Christians to have no fear of death. “If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also.” In other words, face your fear, but face it in Christ. Cardinal Ratzinger wrote in his Introduction to Christianity that every man dies alone. But when we reach the pit of death itself, we find someone has gone there ahead of us, for He too has died. Death is no longer empty. Christ is there, in death, waiting for us.
Lord, if you had been here….
He has died, and he has wept. He allows Martha and Mary to weep. His waiting two days before leaving Galilee seems inexplicable to his disciples. It seems inexplicable to us. Why does God let his friends die? The most common question any priest gets, especially from young people, is why God permits evil? Why does he look on, aloof, as good people suffer? Both Martha and Mary ask the same question when he finally does arrive, “four days late.” “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Where were you when I needed you? It’s the question Jesus himself does not ask his friends after they let him die alone on Friday, but it is the question we often ask of Him in our weakness.
Martha, however, goes on: “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, He will give you.” This “even now” is why Martha is a saint. She does not stop believing in God, even when he is “too late.” They go to the grave, and Mary points out that, after four days, there will be a stench. It is as if she is pleading with Jesus not to resuscitate him. It would be horrible to somehow animate a rotting corpse. Jesus assures her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” He doesn’t say when or how she would see the glory of God. And we have no right to demand anything of Him. It is ours to wait, to hope, with patience and faith, the perfect will of God.
As we draw closer to Passiontide, though, the Scriptures raise the Christian’s hope to unmeasurable levels. In the Old Testament reading, Yahweh promises resurrection, referring to Ezekiel’s vision of a vast plain filled with human bones. In the verses just prior to our First Reading, Ezekiel relates how God “made me walk among [these bones] in every direction so that I saw how many they were on the surface of the plain. How dry they were!” In the end, each of us must lay our bones down in some charnel house, conceding death’s triumph over every living being. But five centuries before Lazarus, Ezekiel prophecies Resurrection. Yahweh commands him, “prophecy, Son of Man, over these bones.” The prophet obeys, heedless of the shame. What was dead regains its original purity and vibrancy.
Likewise, St. Paul urges Christians to have no fear of death. “If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also.” In other words, face your fear, but face it in Christ. Cardinal Ratzinger wrote in his Introduction to Christianity that every man dies alone. But when we reach the pit of death itself, we find someone has gone there ahead of us, for He too has died. Death is no longer empty. Christ is there, in death, waiting for us.
Lord, if you had been here….
He has died, and he has wept. He allows Martha and Mary to weep. His waiting two days before leaving Galilee seems inexplicable to his disciples. It seems inexplicable to us. Why does God let his friends die? The most common question any priest gets, especially from young people, is why God permits evil? Why does he look on, aloof, as good people suffer? Both Martha and Mary ask the same question when he finally does arrive, “four days late.” “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Where were you when I needed you? It’s the question Jesus himself does not ask his friends after they let him die alone on Friday, but it is the question we often ask of Him in our weakness.
Martha, however, goes on: “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, He will give you.” This “even now” is why Martha is a saint. She does not stop believing in God, even when he is “too late.” They go to the grave, and Mary points out that, after four days, there will be a stench. It is as if she is pleading with Jesus not to resuscitate him. It would be horrible to somehow animate a rotting corpse. Jesus assures her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” He doesn’t say when or how she would see the glory of God. And we have no right to demand anything of Him. It is ours to wait, to hope, with patience and faith, the perfect will of God.
Confession
In the meantime, during our pilgrimage, we confess our faith in him day by day. In particular, especially during Lent, we confess our sins to Him through the priest, hoping that somehow God will reveal his glory through us. Saint Augustine writes that the raising of Lazarus points to the Sacrament of Penance. “When you confess, you come forth… [God] calls you with an urgent voice, by an extraordinary grace. And just as the dead man came out still bound, so you go to confession still guilty. In order that Lazarus’ sins be loosed, the Lord said this to his ministers: ‘unbind him and let him go. What you will loose on earth will be loosed also in heaven.’”
Unbind us
It is the job of the priests to unbind us. It is our job to believe in that unbinding, which must precede any final resurrection. It is for us to confess our faith in Jesus Christ, the Resurrection and the Life. It for us to confess our sins, so that all might see the glory of God. Let us pray for those whom Christ will unbind at the Easter Vigil, who will receive baptism into Christ’s death and resurrection. Let us pray also for those who are already baptized, that we make a good confession this Lent, a “second baptism,” and that we may make a Holy Communion at Easter.
In the meantime, during our pilgrimage, we confess our faith in him day by day. In particular, especially during Lent, we confess our sins to Him through the priest, hoping that somehow God will reveal his glory through us. Saint Augustine writes that the raising of Lazarus points to the Sacrament of Penance. “When you confess, you come forth… [God] calls you with an urgent voice, by an extraordinary grace. And just as the dead man came out still bound, so you go to confession still guilty. In order that Lazarus’ sins be loosed, the Lord said this to his ministers: ‘unbind him and let him go. What you will loose on earth will be loosed also in heaven.’”
Unbind us
It is the job of the priests to unbind us. It is our job to believe in that unbinding, which must precede any final resurrection. It is for us to confess our faith in Jesus Christ, the Resurrection and the Life. It for us to confess our sins, so that all might see the glory of God. Let us pray for those whom Christ will unbind at the Easter Vigil, who will receive baptism into Christ’s death and resurrection. Let us pray also for those who are already baptized, that we make a good confession this Lent, a “second baptism,” and that we may make a Holy Communion at Easter.
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