Gospel: John 11:32-44
When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’ Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, ‘Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’ So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upwards and said, ‘Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.’ When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’
Sermon: The Rev. Dr. Maryann Amor
As Jesus arrives at the home of Mary and Martha, he appears distressed. In today’s Gospel, we are given a lot of detail about Jesus, more than we get in most other passages of Scripture. We hear that “he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” In Greek, the terms used convey a sense of being agitated, troubled, unsettled, or perplexed. We also hear that “Jesus wept”— in Greek, the term specifically means he physically shed tears.
Based on what’s happening in this scene, we might conclude that these descriptions suggest that Jesus is grieving for his friend Lazarus. When someone dies, of course we are disturbed, unsettled, and we cry. Jesus is surrounded by people in mourning, so he would be impacted by their sorrow and would mourn with them.
But while this interpretation seems to make sense, there’s a problem: Jesus knew he was going to raise Lazarus. I don’t think he saw that Lazarus had died, started grieving, and then thought to himself, “Oh wait, I know what to do—I’ll raise him from the dead.” The decision to raise Lazarus was not a spur of the moment thing.
So, if Jesus knew that death wasn’t the end of Lazarus’ story, why would he grieve for him? To mourn someone who would soon return to life doesn’t make any sense.
In response to this problem, most scholars argue that Jesus’ tears reflect not grief but frustration. He had been with the people, teaching, performing miracles, and offering glimpses of God’s Kingdom. But despite all of this, when Lazarus died, they forgot everything about who Jesus was, they forgot that God’s power was stronger than death. They didn’t grasp that it would all be okay—that Jesus would come, and in one way or another, things would work out. And this frustrated Jesus so much that his body shook and he shed tears.
When I read this interpretation of today’s Gospel, I couldn’t stop wondering how could frustration cause such a strong physical response in Jesus or in anyone? It wasn’t until I was on a walk one day that it suddenly hit me…I know exactly what Jesus was going through, because I have experienced this and am guessing some of you have too.
A few months ago, I attended a meeting about whether outside groups should purchase their own insurance when using church spaces. To me, the answer was obvious: well, duh, of course, outside groups need their own insurance to protect both themselves and the church. It is so blatantly clear that I anticipated a quick discussion on this topic.
But as things unfolded, it was anything but quick. Some people argued that requiring insurance was “unchristian,” saying we should trust others, keep our doors open, and allow people to use our spaces freely.
The more I listened, the more I felt what can only be described as agitation, unsettledness, and deep frustration. My spirit, my whole self, felt disturbed because, honestly, I was so incredibly annoyed. All that ran through my head was, ‘what are these people thinking?! We live in 2024, not 1800; lawsuits and insurance are a part of today’s world. To be good stewards of our buildings, we need to protect ourselves—it is obvious.’ I didn’t shed a tear—I don’t love insurance that much—but I might have shed a tear out of frustration that something so obvious was being discussed ad nauseum.
Can any of you resonate with this experience? In your work life? Your home life? Where you are around other people who just seem blind to the reality, blind to the obvious, that you can feel yourself seething with frustration? That you feel agitated, maybe even on the verge of tears?
I think all the details about Jesus’ physical state suggest that he was feeling something like what I felt in that meeting. I can just see him standing among Mary, Martha, and the mourners, hearing their accusations of, “If only you had come sooner…” and saying to himself, ‘what are these people thinking?! What more can I do to convince them? This is ridiculous! How do they still not understand?” Jesus was filled with frustration, his body shook with annoyance, he wept because the people were letting him down again and again with their inability to see what was right in front of them…their inability to see the truth of who Jesus was and the fact that with him, death is never the end and Lazarus, in some way, would find life once more.
Today, on All Saints’ Day, we honor the saints—both known and unknown—people made saints by the church and our loved ones who have died, who have gone on to glory before us. We look to their example and remind ourselves that, even as we grieve, there is more beyond death. We’re not meant to be like Mary, Martha, and the mourners, thinking, “If only Jesus had been here…” Instead, we must declare, “Jesus is here. We see and know the truth. Resurrection will come.” We are called to trust that, in the face of grief, there is more beyond this life. Jesus showed this in his life and ministry, and the saints lived it and experience it fully now.
The Jesus we see today…agitated, disturbed, with a tear running down his face as he accompanies Mary, Martha, and a group of mourners to Lazarus’ tomb…is not a man in deep grief as so many assume. Instead, he is frustrated by the fact that, despite everything he had done, no one understood who he was…no one remembered that God’s power brings life even in the darkest places, that death is never the end. As we hear this reading on All Saints’ Day, let us not miss the signs, not overlook what Jesus shows us in the Gospels and in our lives. Let us not be like Mary, Martha and the people at Lazarus’ tomb…let us not forget the truth of our faith. Instead of lamenting that Jesus isn’t here, let us proclaim that he is here, proclaim that nobody’s story ends in death, because as it did for Lazarus, as it will for all the saints, those we love dearly, and even ourselves, resurrection will come. Amen.
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