Suffering Suffering
The story of Lazarus being raised is one that I’m tempted to tune out when I hear it read. I don’t have anything against the story, but I tell myself that I’ve heard it before and thus know what it’s about. So it’s good I spent some time in this scripture last week while writing this reflection. I noticed things I hadn’t before, and came away with questions I hadn’t previously formulated.
One thing I noted is the length of this passage. It is longer than most gospel stories, especially when you include the aftermath of Lazarus being raised. It goes into detail about the conversations and tensions between Jesus and his friends. It speaks to the feelings of Jesus. And it even mentions the very real concern one would have about opening a burial place after it had been occupied by a corpse for days.
And those details lead to a desire for more details. Do you have the same experience? What questions does this story raise for you? Here are some that came to me:
What did Jesus mean earlier in the chapter when he said Lazarus’s illness would not lead to death? Why didn’t he come sooner to heal him?
Why does this story only appear in John’s gospel? There is a shorter resurrection story in Mark and Luke about the daughter of Jairus being raised, but you would think the healing of Lazarus — a friend of Jesus and his disciples — would be worthy of mention by the writers of the other gospels.
Why did Jesus cry? Was he reacting to the suffering of Lazarus’s loved ones? Was it an acknowledgment of the sadness of the end of life in any circumstance? Why cry if Lazarus would soon be alive again?
Where did Lazarus go following his death? We don’t receive any indication, because there is no mention of him after his emergence from the tomb. You’d think he must have had a heck of a story to tell.
I also want to mention the role of “the Jews” in this passage. When you think about it, the author’s use of that designation doesn’t make sense. Jesus was a Jew, as were most of his followers. It seems odd that anyone would be called a Jew in this story, just as it would be odd if I referred to my next-door neighbors as “the Americans.” We see that a lot in John, though, due to the context in which it was written; at that time, there was tension between Jesus-followers and Jews. Nonetheless, in this particular story the “Jews” seem to be part of the community, and any tensions are not evident.
So you might be left with questions after reading today’s story. There are also some takeaways, though. This passage seems to connect with the death and resurrection of Jesus. It includes the recognition from Martha of Jesus as Messiah. It shows the power Jesus has over death, and not just illness. And it demonstrates the emotional connection Jesus has to those he loves, weeping even when happier circumstances are soon to arrive.
I don’t have definitive answers to any of the questions this passage raised. The emotional involvement of Jesus in the situation sticks with me, though. Biblical scholars differ on how to translate the Greek describing his emotions, with some gravitating toward anger in the face of doubt and others suggesting that the tears he shed are “Jesus’ public acknowledgement of the pain that death causes in human life.” (O’Day, 587)
Jesus was confronted with death and suffering, and his reaction was to share in the grief and to end the suffering that was taking place. This didn’t mean there wouldn’t be suffering in the future for himself and his followers, but he was doing what he could to improve matters in the meantime.
Last May, I completed a year of working as a chaplain intern at Hershey Medical Center. In that capacity, I was exposed to death and suffering on a regular basis. One thing that taught me is that many of us are shielded from such things in our society, except on rare occasions. Those who suffer and die often do so out of view of most others. I had the privilege of leaving the building at the end of each shift, and going back to “the real world,” where it is much easier to ignore my mortality.
That isolation is something that is afforded us by our affluence, but I fear future generations will not enjoy that luxury to the same degree (if such ignorance can be considered a luxury). Try as we might to ignore the evidence, there is a growing awareness that our behaviors tied to extraction and consumption are having an impact on the world around us. Temperatures are increasing, seas are rising, and there will be (and has already been) suffering as a result. That suffering will grow with time, and eventually be unavoidable for everyone regardless of status.
There is no question as to why this is occurring; we’ve known since the 1800s that burning fossil fuels can lead to climate change. The main question to address is how much suffering we are willing to allow future generations.
When Jesus was confronted with suffering in today’s passage, he did what he could to reduce it. As Jesus-followers, we should strive to do the same. We don’t have the power to raise the dead, but we do have the power to slow climate change and the resulting trends. These include birth defects, breathing disorders, decreased cognitive function, loss of farmland, famine, drought, extreme weather, submerged communities, and climate refugees — all of which represent suffering on a grand scale, and all of which will be realized to a greater degree with each subsequent generation.
Sadly, there are some for whom suffering is acceptable, provided it’s experienced by others.
With that, we return to today’s passage, because as Gail O’Day writes, “The story of the raising of Lazarus is incomplete without its aftermath.” (O’Day, 580) You might expect that we would hear more about Lazarus after he emerged from his tomb. Instead, the story shifts to a meeting of those who felt threatened by Jesus and his teachings.
The temple authorities had a good thing going. They were able to operate with the approval of the government as long as they didn’t shake things up too much. They were comfortable being part of an unholy marriage between church and government. Thus they were enriched by the system, and didn’t allow considerations like scripture teachings on injustice and corruption to threaten their power or income stream. They deferred to the authority of the Romans more than to the authority of God, and saw the human manifestation of God’s word as a sacrifice they were willing to make to continue the status quo.
Indeed, the tragedy that results from the death of those who are innocent is sometimes considered an acceptable cost to those in power. We see that in the behavior of our corporations and our government officials.
Fossil fuel company Exxon did some of the earliest research into climate change, knew that continued extraction and consumption would have “catastrophic” results, and as a result began cutting-edge research into sustainable solutions. Unfortunately, though, such programs were later canceled when those who valued short-term profit over global well-being changed corporate strategy. Since that time, the company has done its best to deny and cover up its own research while engaging in misinformation campaigns to sabotage adoption of energy solutions that slow climate change and reduce the resulting suffering.
It would be nice if Exxon were the only example of such behavior, but corporate culture too often prizes profit above all else. If you’re not growing as a company, you’re dying, and those making decisions do so with no higher goal than increasing share price.
And to ensure continued profits even when engaging in harmful practices, corporations often buy influence with public officials through campaign contributions, political action committees, and even legal bribery like we have in Pennsylvania.
Thankfully, we are offered an alternative to becoming immersed in the broken systems that surround us. We do not need to hold the same values as the culture in which we reside. It’s possible to pursue well-being for everyone rather than just a chosen few.
In a kin-dom economy, there is no collateral damage and there are no sacrifice zones. Suffering is met with compassion, and justice is pursued to help prevent future suffering. The powerful are brought low and the poor are raised up.
When we look at the world around us, which systems, which products, which organizations are compatible with a kin-dom economy? Which are not? Which lead to suffering? How do we not only address that suffering when it occurs, but prevent it from happening in the first place?
Following the Jesus who healed Lazarus means one might run afoul of the powerful in our midst. But the powerful in our midst only value us to the extent we contribute to their power, and too often they are ignoring or contributing to the climate catastrophe that poses an existential threat to all of humankind.
We can join Jesus in his efforts to reduce suffering, or we can concede to those who want to maintain the status quo. We might not be able to perform any miraculous resurrections along the way, but we can put our trust in One who can.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Works Referenced
Atkin, Emily and Jesse Coleman. “Exxon is still denying climate science — including its own.” Heated, December 9, 2021. https://heated.world/p/exxon-is-still-denying-climate-scienceincluding.
Gafney, Wilda C. A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church, Year W. New York City: Church Publishing, 2021.
O’Day, Gail R. “The Gospel of John.” In New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume VIII. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2015.
