Posts Tagged ‘Lazarus’

Wild, extravagant love – Mary anoints Jesus

April 7, 2025

Lent 5 – 2025

John 12:1-8

Marian Free

In the name of God who draws us into relationship and who does not pull back when we demonstrate affection wildly, extravagantly and passionately. Amen.

In the 1960’s Harry Harlow carried out a number of experiments in to determine if the mother-child relationship was solely a consequence of the role a mother played in providing food and protection or whether affection and touch played a role.  Of these the most well-known (if unethical) experiment involved removing young monkeys from their mothers just a few hours after birth. The young monkeys were placed in cages with two “mothers” one of which was made of wire and dispensed milk through a baby bottle. The other was made of soft cloth but provided no food. What Harlow discovered was that the monkeys spent a majority of their time clinging to the relative comfort of the cloth mother and went to the wire “mother’ only for food.  In other words, the babies drew more comfort from physical contact than nourishment.  

Thank goodness experiments such as this could not be carried out today but this, and other research demonstrates how important touch is to human development and well-being.  

We don’t need experiments with monkeys to prove this. In recent decades we have come face-to-face with the long-term trauma experienced by those who were removed from their families and placed into orphanages, group homes or foster care in which many experienced abuse and neglect. Many victims of such actions will tell of their continuing inability to feel secure, to form relationships and to trust anyone. 

We live in a society in which touch is carefully regulated – by law, but also by social norms. Touch can be used to demonstrate care, support and intimacy, but it can also be used to abuse, to control and to isolate. Touch is important but it can be misused and misunderstood. The appropriate use of touch differs from country to country and changes over time.  It is only recently (in my lifetime) that it has become widely acceptable for women to shake hands. And it is important to note that while many people welcome a comforting hand on the arm, but there are some who will recoil from physical contact.

While it has proven necessary to legally regulate the use of touch, this in itself has problems. Children and the elderly can often be starved of physical signs of affection. Children who experience neglect at home, can no longer hope for a quick hug from a teacher or sports coach. Older persons in aged care facilities likewise miss out on daily, or even occasional hugs.

Social norms around touch is one of the things that makes today’s reading so extraordinary. In the culture of Jesus’ time and place, the behaviour of women and men was tightly regulated. Women were the property of their father and then their husband. In public a woman would have been forbidden from speaking to a male who was not a member of her family. A woman who physically touched a man to whom she was not related would not only have been seriously castigated, but her behaviour would have sent shock waves through her community. In any other circumstance she would have been labelled as a harlot, as a woman with no morals and no self-respect.

Yet here, as if it were something completely ordinary, we have a scene in which Mary does a number of things which are socially inappropriate – she lets down her hair, she places herself at Jesus’ feet, and using extravagantly costly ointment, proceeds to wipe Jesus’ feet with her hair. It is a wonder that it is only Judas who expresses horror at the events unfolding before him.  In a room which is presumably filled with men, in which Mary’s role would have been to join Martha in serving the meal, Mary breaks not one but several social conventions and Jesus instead of condemning her, commends her!

This scene tells us a great deal about Mary’s relationship with Jesus. She obviously felt a very deep affection for him, but it is perhaps more significant to note that she had complete trust in him. She did not feel that she had to stint in her outpouring of love or to keep a distance (physical or emotional) between them. She had no fear that Jesus would reject her expression of the depth of her care and affection. She was confident not only that he would not recoil from her or from her outpouring of love, but that he would protect her from the censure and negativity that her actions would almost certainly engender.

It is too easy to focus on the extravagance of Mary’s gesture (and the meanness of Judas’ response) and to avoid focussing on an action that might make us feel deeply uncomfortable. But Mary’s action is clearly a description of intimacy, service and abundant and extravagant love, the love of a woman for one whom her sister only days before had identified as the Christ. It is an account of intimacy between a believer and God.

By weeks end, Jesus will have been touched by strange and cruel hands. He will have been arrested, roughly handled, whipped and crucified. During these moments of humiliation and torment, will he have remembered the gentle hands of Mary, the caress of her hair and the smoothness of the ointment? Will her wild and extravagant outpouring of love be one of the things that sustains him?

Mary’s actions throw into sharp relief our own elationship with God. How many of us respond to God’s love for us with such wild, extravagant abandon? How many of us truly believe that all God seeks from us is not – as we would believe – mindless obedience, but a selfless, humbling outpouring of our love for God, a love that reveals our understanding of how much God loves us, a love that is utterly confident that God will accept our expression of love, no matter how wild, extravagant and unconventional it may be? God’s love for us is boundless, and unconditional, yet many of us find it hard to trust that God loves us that much, and equally as hard to love God in kind. Many of us portion out our love, tentatively offering God some but not all of us, anxious perhaps that God may not welcome our gift. 

Mary has no such hesitation but throws herself (literally) at God’s (Jesus’) feet, lavishly and liberally covering them with an ointment worth a year’s wages and wiping up the excess with her own hair.

What proof do we need of God’s love for us? What will it take for us to love God in return?

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All Saints

November 3, 2024

All Saints – 2024

John 11:37-44

Marian Free

In the name of God, who created the universe out of nothing, and who gives life to the dead. Amen.

Today we celebrate all the saints who have inspired, challenged and changed the church for the better. These would be saints whether or not we believed in the resurrection.  Their example and faithfulness would be remembered and would stand as a beacon through the ages. We would remember them with fondness and (as best we could), would model our lives on theirs regardless of whether or not we believed that they continued to exist. As it is we are confident of the resurrection, and such can find strength and courage in their continued presence with us.

Because, not only can we be inspired by their lives, but we can continue to be in relationship with them. That relationship will vary depending on our background and our temperament. Many in the Roman Catholic tradition believe that the saints intercede for them. In practice this can take the form of almost superstitious prayers (to St Anthony of Padua to find something that is lost, or to St Christopher to keep a person safe when travelling) or the more profound prayers for healing, support in grief, guidance for the future. In some churches in Italy, tombs of the saints are covered in post it notes and adorned with cards that carry pleas for the saint to intercede for those in need.

In the letters of Paul, everyone who believes is called “αγιος” (holy or saint), but it seems that very early in the life of the church a belief emerged that those who had died continued in some way to be part of the community, these were also called saints. Hebrews for example, tells us that we are surrounded by a great company of saints. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, (martyrs) let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (12:2).

This conviction that there was life after death is significant as the notion of the resurrection to eternal life was a matter of some controversy in the first century. From the gospels we can tell that while the Pharisees believed in resurrection, the Sadducees did not. In fact, the Sadducees tried to trip Jesus up over this very question. According to the Psalms and other Old Testament writings, those who had died did not rise to new life but went to Sheol ,a shadowy place from which a person could no longer worship God. As the Psalmist says: “In death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who can give you praise?”  

It was during the exile, when the Hebrews lived in Babylon and were influenced by the culture around them, that ideas of resurrection began to influence the Jewish faith.

Even though the idea of resurrection was not embraced by all people of the Jewish faith, belief in life after death is attested to in the Book of Maccabees an inter-testamental book in which each of seven brothers refuse to eat pork – even under torture. The fourth of the brothers to be tortured states: “One cannot but choose to die at the hands of mortals and to cherish the hope God gives of being raised again by him” (2 Macc 7:14). The mother of the seven young men, who watches her sons tortured to the point of death, encourages them to be steadfast believing that: “the Creator of the world, who shaped the beginning of humankind and devised the origin of all things, will in his mercy give life and breath back to you again” (2 Macc 7:23).

In the beginning of the first century, Jesus’ resurrection confirmed once for all, that the dead would be raised. The raising of Lazarus pre-figures Jesus’ own resurrection, and powerfully demonstrates Jesus’ power over life and death. It also provides an opportunity for Jesus to teach about the resurrection. Lazarus is raised to life in the present, but not for eternity.  The sisters believed that Jesus had the power to prevent Lazarus from dying. Jesus is more concerned that they understand that he is the resurrection and the life, that he is the one who will defeat death once for all. in other words, the raising of Lazarus is but a foretaste of Jesus’ ultimate victory.

The message of Jesus’ resurrection lay at the heart of the proclamation of the gospel, it gave heart to those who were persecuted for their faith and strength to those who were facing difficult times. If this life was not all there was, then anything could be borne.

As the church spread and grew, and as it settled into a more sedentary form of existence, there was less need for courage and strength, but there were still those

whose lives of faith stood out from the crowd. Those whose wisdom, holiness, fortitude,  self-sacrifice set them apart and those whose gifts of prophecy, teaching or healing made them distinct, came to be revered in life and, on their death, to be considered not only as examples to follow, but as saints whose continued presence could influence and sustain the faith journeys of others.

The Feast of All Saints is a reminder that we are not alone in this journey of faith. Those who have gone before us continue to exist, to give us strength when we face dark times (after all many of the saints faced far worse), to give us hope when all seems hopeless (they did not give up when times were tough), to teach us compassion when we are tempted to ignore the suffering around us (they were not afraid to embrace the leper, to feed the hungry), and to seek the peace and joy that comes from within rather than to depend on the things of this world to meet our deepest needs. 

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A matter of life and death

April 2, 2022

Lent 5 – 2022
John 12:1-8
Marian Free

May I speak in the name of our extravagant, spendthrift, wastrel God. Amen.

Australians, those of us privileged to live in well-treed areas, are not inclined to think of possums (the brush-tail variety) with affection. They eat our vegetables, destroy our rose buds and worse, they live in our roofs from which they are notoriously difficult to remove. Once removed, they will frantically claw at the wire-covered entry point hoping to find a point of weakness that will allow them ingress. If allowed to remain in the roof they will disturb our sleep, urinate, and defecate and worst of all, they will die – something that only becomes obvious when the unmistakable stench of decay will tell us that the ceiling must be removed somehow, and the carcass retrieved and disposed of.

The aroma of death hangs in the air in John chapter 12. Lazarus, one of those present at the meal has very recently been sick, dead and entombed for four days. When Jesus (finally) arrives and calls him to come out of the tomb, his sister, Martha objects: “There is already a stench.” Now, six days before the Passover, we the readers are very aware that Jesus’ crucifixion looms near. The danger to Jesus, and even to Lazarus hangs in the air. Indeed, Jesus has been under the sentence of death since chapter seven when he did not want to attend the Festival of Booths, because the leaders of the Jews in Judea “were looking for an opportunity to kill him.” The menace has intensified since Jesus raised Lazarus. As Jesus’ popularity with the crowds increased, so too did the antagonism of the Jewish leaders who were anxious that his renown would draw the attention of the Romans who would, in turn, “destroy the nation”. (Lazarus too is now a threat to the authorities’ sense of well-being, because he is an object of curiosity, and a sign of what Jesus can do.)

The ”stench” of death fills the home of Martha, Mary and Lazurus, the “stench” of pure nard. I say “stench” because even though the Greek words are different, both the smell of Lazarus’ dead body and the aroma of Mary’s ointment can be translated by the English word “stench” (a strong and unpleasant smell). Whether or not the overpowering odour of a pound of nard is unpleasant is irrelevant. What is important here is that the odour of death hangs in the air. So, whether at the tomb or in the house, death pervades the atmosphere, hovering around the little family and their friend.

In the West, death has become somewhat sanitized and distanced from life. Indeed, we cannot even use the language of death. Today people, even people of faith, refer to someone’s having “passed”, as if death were not a definite and finite end to earthly existence. We might make a great deal of fuss about being with a loved one while and when they die, few of us tenderly wash the body of the deceased or prepare them for the grave. Unless it is part of our religious or cultural practice, we do not sit with the corpse for days, praying and processing the event. We do not wail (or employ others to wail for us) or tear out our hair in the face of death. In our culture overt displays of grief are considered unseemly. In public we tend to be restrained if not stoic.

Not only do we keep death at an emotional distance, collectively we do everything we can to prolong life and to avoid death. Advances in medical science mean that we can expect to be cured of most things and to escape most others.

Those who lived in the first century knew no such luxury as medical science. For rich and poor alike, death was a daily reality that could not be ignored. Women (rich and poor) died in childbirth, a large percentage of children (rich and poor) died before their fifth birthday and the life-expectancy of the average male was 29 years.

Those at the little dinner party depicted by John know all too well that death is part and parcel of life. He might be alive today, but the trauma of Lazarus’ death is still very raw. Death and the threat of death hover in the atmosphere. Mary knows as well as anyone does that death is always at the door. It is unpredictable and not at all choosy. No wonder she seizes the moment – if not now when? There is no point saving her precious ointment for some unknown time and place in the future. It is meant to be used, not squirreled away. Jesus is here, now and she can do this one thing for him. Who knows if there will be another opportunity?

Too many of us live tentative, timid lives, storing things up against an unknown future, hesitant to take risks because we are fearful of what might happen, and unwilling to give ourselves freely in case we will be hurt. Our cautious fails to take into account the reality that life is finite and that in the final analysis we cannot control life, nor can we escape death. Accepting death (ours and that of those whom we love) as part and parcel of life, helps us to live each day as it comes, to embrace life in all its complexity, and to live generously, spontaneously and audaciously.

In her poem The Summer Day Mary Oliver speaks of a day spent watching a grasshopper and she asks: “Tell me, what else should I have done? 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?”

Everything and everyone does die at last so – what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Will you hold on or let go? Be frugal or generous? Timid and cautious or adventurous and outrageous? Mary seized the moment – Can we?

What is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

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So easy it seems hard

April 1, 2017

Lent 5 – 2017

John 11:1-45

Marian Free

In the name of God who love us beyond our wildest imagining. Amen.

“If only” must be among the saddest words in the English language. They express regret, disappointment, a certain dissatisfaction with the way things are and a yearning for things to be different. They suggest an unwillingness to accept that life is beyond our control and that it includes the good and the bad. They represent a failure to live in the present and a striving for what is probably an unrealistic and ideal future. Or, as in the case of today’s gospel, “if only” expresses a desire that God would behave in the way that we expect.

There are, as is often the case with John’s gospel, a number of things going on in today’s gospel. Jesus’ life is in danger. The Pharisees have been trying to stone him, which means that for Jesus to be anywhere in Judea, let alone near Jerusalem, is extremely dangerous. According to John Jesus makes three trips to Jerusalem. Apparently while there he chooses to say with his friends, Martha, Mary and Lazarus, whose home in Bethany is only a couple of miles from the city. The siblings are more than friends with Jesus. They share an intimacy that would allow Mary to anoint Jesus’ feet and to wipe them with her hair, and that gives the women courage to tell Jesus that “the one whom you love is ill.” Not only are they close friends, but Martha and Mary have confidence in Jesus’ ability to bring about healing.

When Lazarus becomes ill, they send a message to Jesus, but Jesus doesn’t come. The sisters don’t have the advantage that we have. They don’t hear Jesus’ discussion with the disciples. What they know is that a friend who loves them not only doesn’t come, but fails to even to send a word to explain the delay. One imagines that the sisters are disappointed and confused by Jesus’ behaviour. His failure to honor their friendship and to come to their aid must have taken them by surprise.

No wonder both women reproach him when, long after Lazarus has died, Jesus finally turns up. “Lord if only you had been here our brother would not have died,” they say. We could have been saved this trouble and this grief – “if only you had been here.” Their confidence in Jesus’ ability to heal is unchanged. They simply do not understand why he would choose not to save their brother.

The reaction of the women is often overshadowed by the miracle of the raising of Lazarus, or overlooked because of Martha’s declaration that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, but it is important to notice the reproach and to recognise that, despite their friendship and love, the women are not afraid to let Jesus know that they feel he has let them down. It is probably because the sisters know Jesus so well that they feel free to tell him just what they think.

Both the Old Testament and the New are populated with real people who have real feelings and real failings, both of which are essential to their relationship with God. When we read the bible we don’t get the sense that the various characters on the pages are trying to be something that they are not. We are not given the impression that if a person is less than perfect that God will have nothing to do with them. We learn that from Abraham to Martha and Mary, those who are close to God, those who have a strong relationship with God have no problem in either being themselves or in letting God know exactly what they think. Abraham takes God on when God threatens to destroy Sodom, Moses suggests that God will look foolish in the eyes of the nations if God destroys Israel, the woman at the well was not afraid to tell Jesus that it was the Samaritans, not the Jews, who were the true believers, and Martha and Mary have no qualms in greeting Jesus with a reproach.

These characters have one thing in common – an open and honest relationship with God/Jesus – a relationship in which they are not afraid to tell God/Jesus exactly how they feel, in which they are comfortable to have their doubt and uncertainty, their frustration and disappointment exposed for all to see. They didn’t care if they appeared foolish or uncertain and they had no problem letting God/Jesus know just what they thought. When they were face-to-face with God/Jesus, they were not overcome with embarrassment, self-consciousness or shame. They were comfortable enough in their relationship with Jesus to have their flaws and doubts laid bare.

Over the past four weeks we have met characters who, in conventional terms have been anything but model Christians, let alone perfect human beings. Nicodemus is timid and uncertain, the woman at the well had had five husbands, the blind man came to faith only in stages and Mary and Martha reproached Jesus for being late. During this time, we have observed people who were not confident that Jesus was who he said he was, whose self-interest led them to misunderstand what he said, who took their healing for granted and who scolded Jesus for not responding in a timely manner.

We learn from these characters that if we want our relationship with God/Jesus to grow, it is important that we are completely honest – about ourselves (our strengths as well as our weaknesses), about our questions, our doubts and yes, even about our anger and disappointment. We can take the lead from those in the bigger story that it is not only OK, but that it is healthy to enter into debate with God, to voice our concerns and express our frustration. Our relationship with God is like any other relationship. It cannot grow if there is dishonesty, fear and anxiety, but only if there is openness, respect and trust.

My hope is that this Lent you have learned something of God’s boundless love for you, that you have gained confidence to be yourselves – knowing that God’s love will not be withdrawn – and that you understand that the best relationship with God is one that is honest and true, one in which nothing is hidden and in which we are so sure of our place in God’s love that we are not afraid to let God know what we think, to ask the difficult questions and even, as did Martha and Mary to question God’s reaction (or lack of action) in regard to issues that we think are important.

Being a Christian has nothing to do with being good and everything to do with being in a relationship with God – Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. It is only because it is so easy that it sometimes seems so hard

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One person at a time

September 24, 2016

Pentecost 19 – 2016

Luke 16:19-31 (Some thoughts)

Marian Free

 

In the name of God, who asks us to join with God in creating a world in which all have access to the resources that will allow them to live a full and happy life. Amen.

Thanks to modern media and the speed of the internet, few of us can avoid being bombarded by graphic images and descriptions of the plight of refugees, victims of war and natural disaster, women whose babies lie dying beside them, children who have been forced to become soldiers, men forced into dangerous and often demeaning labor just to feed themselves and their dependents. In the past week some of us will have seen the appalling pictures of Holocaust victims living in squalor in Poland because they are too afraid to repeat the trauma of forced resettlement and there are not sufficient funds to provide the home support and nursing care that would give them a dignified and comfortable old age and death.

A consequence of this level of exposure is that many of us suffer from compassion fatigue – there is only so much suffering we can absorb. Alternatively we are overtaken by feelings of helplessness – in the face of so much despair we wonder what can we do to make a real and lasting difference. Photos of a child washed up on a beach or of a vulture waiting for a child to die fill us with anguish, but it is impossible to work out what one person can do to stop the fighting in Syria, to provide relief to those living in drought stricken Sudan.

The number of aid agencies and the worry that a large percentage of donations are spent on administration further complicates the issue. Sometimes it seems that the solution is to do nothing and hope that world leaders will somehow work out solutions to war, terror, poverty and natural disaster.

In the meantime suffering and disadvantage continue not only on the world stage, but also on our own doorsteps. On Wednesday I had the privilege of hearing Debbie Kilroy – the founder and executive director of Sisters Inside – deliver the United Nations Brisbane Peace Lecture. Debbie’s own experience of prison made her a powerful, passionate and informed speaker. She reminded us that, though Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander women make up only 3% of our population, they make up more than 50% of the prison population. Most come from situations of extreme disadvantage and enter the criminal system from a very young age. Once they have come to the attention of the law, they find it difficult to access the support that would ensure that they escape the cycle of poverty, violence and abuse that has brought them to their present situation.

Sisters Inside “has an enormous range of programmes that support women get through every conceivable barrier that the world throws at them, and to tell them that they’re worth it, they’re good, and we love them. They have programmes that include: housing support, sexual and DV & FV counseling, reunification of mothers and children, mental health support and life skills, youth work and pre and post release support”[1].

Obviously Sisters Inside does amazing work, but Debbie’s challenge to the audience was not: “go and help an ex-prisoner rehabilitate”, “donate to Sisters Inside” or “become a volunteer” but “find someone in your neighbourhood who is marginalised and disadvantaged and walk beside them”.

In so doing, Debbie made solving the problem manageable, achievable.

No one can solve all the problems of the world, but we can change the world around us by making a difference in the life of just one person.

The parable about Lazarus and the rich man is often seen and used as a critique of wealth, but if you break it down it is a reflection on just two men – Lazarus and a certain man who is rich. It is impossible to imagine that the rich man is oblivious to the plight of Lazarus. Apart from anything else, when he is in Hades the rich man recognises Lazarus and calls him by name. The rich man knows exactly who Lazarus is yet during his life he has done nothing to alleviate Lazarus’ distress.

In life as in death, a great gulf existed between the two men and the one who was in a position to do something did nothing. The parable gives us no hint that there was an expectation that the rich man should have solved all the problems in the world or even that he should have given away all his wealth. There was one person in his life whose plight he could have alleviated and he chose to ignore his responsibility of care.

Unfortunately we can’t solve all the problems in the world, but we can ease the burdens of at least one person in our life or in our neighbourhood. We can, in the course of our lives, make a difference in the lives of many, if we take action where we see it is needed and if we only bite off as much as we can chew.

So stop wasting time worrying about what you can’t do and start thinking about what you can do. Open your eyes to the people around your and in front of you. Build bridges across the gulf that separates you from the marginalised, the disadvantaged and the excluded. Stand beside one person in solidarity and support and start changing the world one person at a time.

 

 

 

 

[1] Check out the website: http://www.sistersinside.com.au

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A matter of life and death

April 5, 2014

Lent 5 – 2014
John 11:1-42
Marian Free

In the name of God who gives us life in abundance. Amen

One of the mysteries in the account of the raising of Lazarus is Jesus’ tardiness – when Jesus hears that Lazarus is ill he stays where he is for two more days. This is even harder to understand when the narrator tells us that Jesus loved Lazarus and that Jesus wept when he learned that Lazarus had died. This confusion is shared by the characters in the narrative. The disciples take Jesus literally when he says that Lazarus is merely asleep, Martha exclaims: “if you had been here my brother would not have died” – a sentiment echoed by her sister Mary. The Jews wonder: “could not the man who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Why, when Jesus cares so much for his friends and obviously has the power to cure the sick, does he delay?

An obvious reason for Jesus’ hesitation is that the Judeans are trying to kill him. If Jesus returns to Jerusalem it will place him (and by association his disciples) at great risk. It is little wonder then that he takes some time to think about the consequences of his going . What changes his mind appears to be his belief that Lazarus has died. This simply adds to the confusion – why, having chosen to play it safe, would he now risk his life and that of others to go to someone who is already dead? Again the answer is in the text: “so that you might believe”. Believe what is an obvious question, the answer to which is found in Jesus’ discussion with Martha. In response to Martha’s assertion that Lazarus will rise again on the last day, Jesus responds: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die will live.”

Throughout his ministry, Jesus has been claiming to be life. The gospel begins with the claim that “in him was life and the life was the light of all people” and the word life occurs at least forty more times – sometimes with the descriptor eternal life, but often on its own. “I came that they might have life and have it abundantly” (10:10). It is this focus on life in the gospel as a whole that helps us to get a handle on this chapter. When Jesus says that Lazarus’ illness is not unto death he is not trying to deceive or mislead the disciples. What he is trying to do is to get the disciples and the Jews to understand life and therefore death differently, to understand that somehow, as a consequence of his presence in the world, the relationship between life and death has radically changed – a fact that will become clear after Jesus’ own death and resurrection, but which he wants them to take on faith in the present.

Physical death is brutally real – the raising of Lazarus does not alter that fact, neither does Jesus try to sugar coat the reality of death. Lazarus is not raised to eternal life, but to life in the present, a life that will eventually end with death. Death separates us from the one who has died and the one who has died loses any benefits he or she might have had in life. The grief that Lazarus’ sisters and friends (including Jesus) feel cannot be avoided. In raising Lazarus Jesus’ attempt to redefine the ways that his followers think about death. (In order for that to happen, Lazarus has to physically die.)

There are a number of aspects to this redefinition of death. First of all, Jesus’ apparent lack of concern does not indicate indifference to Lazarus’ illness or indifference with regard to the sister’s grief. Jesus’ refusal to be hurried demonstrates that death (even his own) is not a matter over which human beings have any control. Death is something that is determined by God (not illness or other cause). Pilate himself would have no power to crucify Jesus unless that power had first been given him by God. Secondly, by creating ambiguity around Lazarus’ death – saying the illness will not lead to death, saying that Lazarus is asleep when he is not, opening the grave when it is certain he is dead, Jesus opens the possibility that death is not the definitive end to life. Death is more open ended – life does not cease completely after the death of the physical body.

A third way in which death is redefined is the notion that death is in some way for the glory of God. In the case of Lazarus, death glorifies God because his being raised to life will help the disciples to believe that Jesus is life. When Jesus raises Lazarus, he demonstrates that death cannot defeat life – something that will be definitively proven when Jesus is raised from the dead never to die again. Life and death are in the hands of God. Finally, the raising of Lazarus shows the disciples that death does not lead to separation something that will be clearly evident to them when Jesus rises from the dead. Jesus’ resurrection life will break into the world of the disciples ensuring that they are never separated from him.

In the account of the raising of Lazarus, both life and death are radically redefined for the disciples of Jesus. They learn that death has lost its power to overcome life. That said, Jesus offers no false promises of happy endings, no assurance that pain and sorrow have been eliminated from the world, just an assurance that this life can, with confidence be understood as a prelude to the life to come, that the separation from loved ones is only a temporary condition and that no matter what happens in the present, Jesus will never abandon those who believe in him because death itself cannot separate him from those whom he loves.

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