In today’s Gospel reading, we hear of Jesus’ raising Lazarus from the dead, and thus definitively demonstrating His power to not only heal the body but over death itself. There was no denying this very public demonstration of His power as the Son of God. As so often has happened in history, when someone exercises power and authority that is beyond the scope or control of the existing leadership, it makes those in authority very nervous, perhaps even deadly.
When the people learned of Lazarus’ resurrection from physical death, they became convinced of Jesus messianic kingship and applauded Him on his way into Jerusalem on what we now celebrate as Palm Sunday. Moreover, when they laid their cloaks and palm branches before him as he made his way. There is great significance in those actions, as they were publicly acknowledging their intention to have Him as king. This was the final straw, and what ultimately put into motion the events that led up to Jesus death on the cross.
All of those actions are well known, but what is perhaps less talked about, is Lazarus himself after Jesus raised him from the dead. We know that the Jews considered killing Lazarus in order to quash the situation, but even they realized that with the number of people who witnessed Jesus raising him from the dead, this was an impossibility. But what of this man Lazarus, who was raised from the dead? What became of him? How did he live his life – his newly given life? Would it be possible to be the same man after having tasted the sting of death, and been in its grip while spending all those days in the tomb? To not only once again breathe the air, and see the sun, but to also have seen beyond the veil of earthly existence, and then returned because of the grace and love of God.
On the surface, this seems like an extraordinary question, because of the events that surrounded it. Certainly, for those who experienced or witnessed it, it was an awe-inspiring and perhaps life-changing event, but should it be any less so for us? I’ll grant you, we are not physically of that time period or location to have seen these things first hand, but we are none the less tremendously well informed in terms of what happened, and possess the additional knowledge we have of Jesus Christ’s teachings, compared with those who were actually physically present. And yet, we lose sight of the fact that we are equally called from our collective tombs each day, and perhaps should be especially aware of it now during this Lenten season. We are called from our tombs of self-focus and indulgence, we are called from our tombs of avarice and of selfishness, we are called from our tombs of worldly allurements and flesh, and we are called from our tombs of indifference toward our Lord Jesus Christ and his children who are our brothers and sisters in his remaining body here on earth – His Church. Each of us in some way is a Lazarus, and have the same opportunity if we will only listen to the call. We often ask ourselves at the beginning of each Lenten season, what will we give up this Lent? Perhaps it is chocolate, or television, or some small item that we normally enjoy, as a show of what we are willing to “sacrifice” for God and to hopefully use as a way to remind us of what we are supposed to be focusing on during Lent – repentance. What about giving up death? What about giving up that tomb that we sometimes cling to? What about stepping out into the light of the day that Christ has called us to and walking out of the tomb, shed of the bindings of death that hold us, and walking freely the way we are supposed to? That would indeed be a Lent to remember.
The Deacons Bench 