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Lent V

John 11
32 When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 34 “Where have you laid him?” he asked.
“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.
35 Jesus wept.
36 Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
38 Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. 39 “Take away the stone,” he said.
“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”
40 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”


Help can come from unexpected places.

Somehow I fell upon an article in the Harvard Business Review with the simple and arresting title, That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief. As the author describes it, the editorial staff were meeting online when the conversation turned to how people were feeling. When one colleague added that she felt mostly grief, the group resolved to learn more.

They turned to David Kessler, grief expert and protégé of the late Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Kübler-Ross, you will recall, pioneered the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, sadness and acceptance—and helped millions overcome a common burden. Kessler, with permission from the Kübler-Ross family, added a sixth stage, something we will turn to later.

To begin, though, we should let David Kessler explain how the five stages fit into our current situation:

“Whenever I talk about the stages of grief, I have to remind people that the stages aren’t linear and may not happen in this order. It’s not a map but it provides some scaffolding for this unknown world. There’s denial, which we saw a lot of early on: This virus won’t affect us. There’s anger: You’re making me stay home and taking away my activities. There’s bargaining: Okay, if I social distance for two weeks everything will be better, right? There’s sadness: I don’t know when this will end. And finally there’s acceptance. This is happening; I have to figure out how to proceed.” [1]

And this, of course, is just the surface. Kessler’s five examples mirror the earliest stages of the crisis—the part we’re already experiencing—and not the profound loss that may visit or has already visited families during this time. And this takes us to another point that Kessler underlines: much of what is troubling us right now is anticipatory grief, the worst-case feelings that can overwhelm us. His primary lesson is this: acknowledge these feelings and don’t try to suppress them—and then balance them by calling to mind all that we are doing to avoid what we fear most.

It is a gift of the Holy Spirit that the reading for today is master class in grief. But before I go further, I need to make a couple of points about the story of raising Lazarus. First, and most importantly, this is a miracle story—Jesus resuscitates Lazarus—and not a resurrection story. Resurrection is coming, but we still need to wait. And this takes us to the second point: Lazarus was raised from the dead, but still died. The defeat of death will come later—once and for all—but for the story of that blessed day, we still need to wait.

So let the class begin: the denial begins early, in the first part of the chapter, when Jesus breaks the bad news by saying that Lazarus has fallen asleep. In their denial they take him literally, the first stage. Stages two and three—anger and bargaining—appear the moment he meets Martha: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” It seems like Martha knows the end of the story, that she believes that her brother will be raised, but her next comment tells the real tale: “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” What seems like a hopeful statement is really sadness: she understands that she will not see her brother again in this life. And at the same moment, there is a measure of acceptance—providing examples of sadness and acceptance in one simple statement—and the final two stages. Or so it would seem.

And here is where we get to explore the difference between what seems to be happening and what’s really happening. You may recall that last week I described John’s Gospel as an extended book of signs that all point to God’s glory. And that’s what is really happening here: the raising of Lazarus is another sign of God’s glory. John himself sums this up in the beginning of his book when he says “In Him was life, and that life was the light for all people.” In the same way Matthew, Mark and Luke speak of the kingdom, John speaks of life: abundant life (10.10), life everlasting (3.16) and the bread of life (6.48) where Jesus reminds us that he is the “living bread that came down from heaven.” [2]

And this takes us to David Kessler’s sixth stage of grief: meaning. The author expresses the hope that we can move from ‘acceptance’ to meaning: finding light in the midst of our grief—some life-giving meaning that comes despite the dislocation and fear. And he suggests a couple: remembering, for example, the joy of an extended telephone conversation, or really savouring a walk outside, not just walking to rush somewhere. The challenge is to name your own examples, to mine the meaning that will allow us to defeat anxiety in a tense time.

Before I close, I want to share a word about that unique little verse that makes this passage noteworthy: “Jesus wept.” Even when the sign was ready, even as the plan was unfolding, even as the end was assured—Jesus wept. Jesus wept for the pain of everyone around him, for the fear and the heartbreak, for the damage this event might cause his friends. He wept for them and he wept with them. And the weeping continues. Whatever befalls us in the days and weeks to come, remember the compassion of Christ: he weeps when we are weeping, and we never walk alone.

Back to our search for meaning, Jesus provides—even before he brings his friend back to life: “I am the resurrection and the life,” he says. “The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” The question, of course, is another challenge in the meaning-making that only Jesus can give. We need to remember and cling to the new life we have already received in Christ Jesus—the life that is meant to be a light for all people. May our light shine forth even in this time of trouble. Amen.

[1]Scott Berinato, “That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief,” HBR.
[2]Craig S. Keener, “Eternal Life in John,” bibleodyssey.org

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 4:56 AM