Decades ago, a high school teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students on 2 sheets of
paper, leaving a space between each name. Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say
about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class to finish their
assignment. That Saturday the teacher wrote down the names of each student on a separate sheet of paper
and listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday she gave each student his or her
list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. “Really?” she heard whispered. “I never knew I meant
anything to anyone!” and “I didn’t know others liked me so much,” were most of the comments. No one
ever mentioned the lists again. Yet the exercise had accomplished its purpose.
Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam. His teacher attended the funeral. She had
never seen a service man in a military coffin before. He looked so mature. The church was packed with
his friends. One by one, those who loved him, took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was one of the
last ones to bless the coffin.
As she stood there one of the soldiers, a pallbearer, came up to her, “Were you Mark’s math teacher?” he
asked. She nodded: yes. Then he said, “Mark talked about you a lot.” Later at the reception with his
classmates and Mark’s parents gathered around, Mark’s father said to the teacher, “We want to show you
something,” taking a wallet out of his pocket. “They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought
you might recognize it.” Opening the billfold, he carefully removed 2 worn pieces of notebook paper that
had obviously been taped, folded, and refolded many times. The teacher knew without looking at the
papers, they were the ones that she had listed all the good things each of Mark’s classmates had said about
him. “Thank you so much for doing that,” Mark’s mother said. “As you can see, Mark treasured it.”
Many of Mark’s former classmates responded. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my
list. It’s in the top drawer of my desk at home.” Bill’s wife said, “Bill asked me to put his in our wedding
album.” Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her purse and showed her worn and frazzled list. “I
carry this with me all the time,” Vicky said. “I think we all saved our lists.” That’s when the teacher
finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark, and for all his friends who would never see him again. She
cried for the loss she felt, and her sadness for Mark’s death.
Today we read the story of Lazarus. Many things are happening in this passage. But the heart of it is,
“Lazarus is dead.” and “Jesus wept.” Lazarus was a good friend to Jesus; someone he loved. A friend
who with his two sisters provided a welcome place for Jesus. But now, Lazarus is dead and Jesus wept.
When a good friend or family member dies, that’s what we do. We cry, we mourn, we remember. We
think about all the good times we shared, all the mischief that was had, all the dreams fulfilled, as well as
the ones lingering. Today on this Sunday before Palm Sunday, we are looking at the death and renewal of
Lazarus, an event that solidified the Jewish leaders into deciding to kill Jesus (11:53). An event that
showed Jesus’s power over death and an event that reminds us of the magnitude of mourning.
All these things need to happen before we can get to Good Friday and Easter Sunday. They are precursors
to the joy and the liberation of the open tomb. Jesus shows us God’s power to free us from death by
bringing Lazarus back to life. Now other gospels tell of Jesus raising people from the dead, like Jairus's
daughter. But those were immediately following the death. Here he does so after four days, a time that
Jews would believe that death had occurred. The common thought was that the spirit stayed around the
body for several days before departing. But there is no doubt here that Lazarus is dead.
Naturally, Lazarus’ sisters were mourning. Yet mourning is a more defined practice in Jewish culture.
Friends come and mourn with the family for seven days, sitting shiva. They weep and wail, cry and sob.
Their emotions give permission to grieve, to voice their pain, to share their sorrow. I am sure both sisters
were raw with grief. Yet both have received comfort for the loss of their brother.
I wonder, have you ever mourned Jesus’s death? Have you sat down and cried for him? I realized that
today we are talking about Lazarus’s death, but Jesus tells us that Lazarus’s death is for God’s glory. In
other words, preparing for and leading up to the cross. Sometimes I wish we had a week of mourning for
Jesus’s death. A time to truly reflect on the life of a man who gave so much. To remember the love of
God he bore in his body, and the hope he gives in eternal life. Of course, that week is Holy Week- a time
we stop and feel, remember Jesus’ death and the freeing power that emerged. But Holy Week seems to
have been refocused. We have sanitized the loss, skipped over the pain he endured, never fully allow
ourselves to grieve for Jesus. Maybe we get overwhelmed, or have a hard time thinking about death,
especially Jesus’s death on the cross. But for a moment, let each of us try to think about what you would
put on your list for Jesus. The things you appreciate most about him. Then jot those down on the insert in
your bulletin. You get to make a list just like the students did in their class, things that you love about
Jesus. What matters the most about who Jesus is to you. For after all, isn’t that what a eulogy is?
Proclaiming a life and how it touched us. So, what kind of eulogy would we write for Jesus?
It might be something like this. Jesus a carpenter from Nazareth was condemned to death on the cross for
valuing people, for helping people, and healing people. Amazingly, Jesus takes away my sins and makes
God’s abundant love real to me. His life was cut short at the age of 33, and yet his short life changed the
course of the world and transformed my life and the lives of millions. Take a moment to list what about
Jesus’ life that matters most to you.
We might need to do some anticipatory grief, getting in touch with our sorrow for our Lord. As we
discussed last week, our Reformed tradition has removed Christ from the cross which declares the hope of
the resurrection. But I think it also lets us off the hook for grieving, mourning and crying for Jesus. But
we can cry for Jesus just the same.
Jesus models this for us. Jesus wept for Lazarus. Some commentators say Jesus was crying for the crowd,
because of their lack of faith. Others say, Jesus was crying for himself anticipating his own death. But I
do not believe that’s why Jesus was crying. For in that moment, as Jesus weeps he is living out his human
nature. Because there are times we need to have a Savior who knows our pain, who has lived the trials,
who has shed a tear. John does not tell us why Jesus cried, but I believe Jesus cried for the same reason
we cry at funerals. He grieved with Mary and Martha. He grieved that Lazarus had died. He identified
with their pain and understood their tears. That’s what friends do. They cry when we cry.
A little girl came home from school late one day. Her mother was upset with her. After a good scolding,
the mother asked why her daughter was late. The girl replied, “I was helping another girl in trouble.”
“What did you do for her,” asked the mother. “Oh, I just sat down beside her and helped her cry.”
I believe these simple words, “Jesus wept” reveal as much about Jesus as just about anything. As Dr.
Mickey Anders puts it, “He wept for all who pray for God to come, and nothing happens. He wept for all
who faced the tragic experiences of this life and thrust their painful “Why?” towards heaven. He wept for
those who have hard questions. He wept for those who do not walk quietly to death’s dark door. He wept
for those who ask for a miracle and do not get it.”
It’s important to believe that Jesus understands what life is like for me and you. Jesus knows your fears,
your sorrow. He knows your suffering, your disappointments, your problems, your questions. And more
importantly, he not only knows, but Jesus also understands. He has literally walked in your shoes. And
because Jesus knows and cares, then I know that God knows and cares.
Suffering has a way of isolating us and making us feel alone. We think no one else feels our pain or
knows our grief. But Jesus tears tell us that there is someone we can lean on for strength, for wisdom, for
comfort. In our sorrow, Jesus is there for us, he will hold us.
Across the street from the bombed out Federal Building in Oklahoma City, where 168 people died
senselessly, there stands a memorial. At the heart of that memorial is a nine-foot statue of Jesus. But this
statue is not one of a stony Jesus with arms out wide like you may have seen in the Ozarks or in Brazil.
No, this is a nine-foot statue of Jesus with his face in his hands, turned slightly away from where the acts
of terror took place, and the plaque reads, “And Jesus Wept” For thousands of mourners and survivors
that image of Jesus has brought resurrection and hope and new life. It is a pillar of comfort for all who
pass by. What does God do for us? He sits down beside us and helps us cry. And sometimes that’s all we
really need. Amen.
