Real tears, real hope
Big boys don’t cry, and neither do big girls who want a seat at the big boys’ table! Statements like these cause me to cringe, but the more I thought about these in particular, the more I realized they contain some truth. The way I see it, anyone worth his or her salt doesn’t cry, or just shed a few tears. No, they don’t cry — they weep, uncontrollably at times, because they are persons who think, feel and love deeply. They are inclined to immerse themselves in the world and carry with them the pain of those who suffer . . . not unlike Jesus, whose weeping at the grave of his dear friend Lazarus, and whose actions following those tears, give us reason to be filled with hope.
I was fairly young when I learned that the shortest verse in the Bible (according to the King James Version) is John 11:35 — “Jesus wept.” Its shortness, however, is no match for its significance with regard to what it reveals to us about Jesus. In the first chapter of John’s Gospel, we read “the Word became flesh and dwelled among us.” That is, Jesus became a real, live, human being and entered our everyday world. This Jesus, whom Lazarus’ sister Martha identified as “the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world,” was very human, experiencing exhaustion, anger and profound sadness. Jesus’ weeping was triggered by his own grief and the grief of those around him. Persuaded their brother would not have died had Jesus come immediately upon receiving word that Lazarus was gravely ill, Martha and Mary also wept, their tears flowing freely, their grief inconsolable.
The eleventh chapter of John’s Gospel contains a potpourri of emotions: Martha is resentful of Jesus’ delay, but in the same breath voices her trust in the power of his compassion. Mary blames Jesus, and then kneels at his feet. Jesus is troubled and so deeply moved that he weeps, but then springs into action as he instructs those standing nearby to roll back the stone covering the entrance to Lazarus’ tomb. Once again it is Martha who speaks up, urging Jesus to exercise caution because her brother has been in the tomb four days, which means there will be a stench. “The smell will be awful” is the way the Common English Bible translates her words, but my favorite is still the King James Version: “Surely he stinketh!” Stinketh or not, Jesus insists on the stone being removed, calls Lazarus out of the tomb, and then instructs those looking on to unbind him and let him go.
As Lazarus’ story unfolds, I am intrigued by the ever present crowd. Although Jesus does not call attention to them, they are always moving around in the background — watching closely, making assumptions, drawing
conclusions, and no doubt struggling with their own emotions. They witness a miracle and then go away, some forever changed, others cynical, suspicious and disbelieving. This account forces us to look death in the eye. It challenges us to ponder: how close to death are we willing to get? And if we dare to get close enough to witness Jesus’ power and passion,
will it scare us or set us free? God knows, the world in which we live provides us with ample reason to weep, but God provides us with ample reason to hope, for if Jesus could restore life to one who had died, just imagine what he can do for us! To experience what God has to offer, though, we must be willing to move beyond resentment to trust, beyond blame to worship, and beyond weeping to action. We must be willing to reach out with both hands to receive the life God offers. With tears of joy and a hope-filled heart, may we dare to do just that!