“Greatly disturbed in spirit and greatly moved, Jesus began to weep.” John 11:33
Jesus’ friend Lazarus falls ill and dies, and Jesus is moved to sorrow. God’s Spirit, the Spirit who is also one with Jesus, stirs Jesus to lament with all those gathered in sorrow at the death. Sisters Martha and Mary, friends, Jesus himself, Jesus is brought to tears by the sorrow, the faces and despair.
Oh, how the grief pours out!
Grief, unbridled. Grief, we might say, “unbound, freed, loosened, let go.” Grief, of family. Grief of friends. Grief of the disciples with Jesus—some friends of Lazarus and all would see the grief of Jesus and grieve for him. And those disciples also have another foreboding of grief, for they know there is threat to Jesus when he decides to return to the village of Lazarus.
For there Jesus will be so close to the center of earthly power where danger waits. He is sought and those who seek him seek revenge. For he has been seen to threaten the Empire’s authority. Ahead for Jesus was time of betrayal, being mocked, deserted, forsaken: cross, nails and Death. Grief will soon again wash over Jesus and those who follow him.
Oh, these Gospel words! Vivid portrayal of the sorrow of death, the sorrow of a loved one suffering, dying. In our recent weeks, many of us have, in personal ways, seen a death or illness of a loved one, anticipated for a long-time or sudden. We see grief in our own faces or the faces of others as fear of illness and death worsen. Grief shows up as we are “moved to sorrow.” Grief becomes evident, vivid, real. In these first months of 2020, we have seen this in person, or the news.
One photo showed a man whose mother lay dying from COVID-19. He was required to wear latex gloves to hold her hand, to touch her face, to stroke her hair; the gloves were an attempt to keep him and others safe. At that bedside, in that moment Jesus again has been moved, is moved. By the man’s grief for his dying mother; by your grief in fearing the virus, loss of health, life, or job. Even by grief from a deepened estrangement from one held dear. By the grief of a woman dying who cannot feel the fingerprints of her son; by the grief of a son who must give up the touch of his mother’s skin.
Jesus moved, was carried into, brought into sorrow. SORROW…deep. And so it is for us in life. From loss of income for family or self; from fear relationships will break when we no longer can be face to face; from communication that goes awry when we can no longer see the wink of an eye, the lift of a smile, the forward reach of a hand. It is truthful for us in this isolation isolating-depriving time to be moved to fear, to sorrow. For we, just as Jesus, are fully human. We care deeply for one another. In threatening strains of too much distance or too much closeness, still, we care deeply for one another.
Ahhhh…Jesus once more, in the story of Lazarus is greatly disturbed. He goes to the cave where Lazarus body now lay. A stone covered the entrance to lessen the stench of decay. Yet Jesus not deterred, commands, “move the stone.” And then commands, “Lazarus, come out.” And Lazarus, dead four days, steps forth still with grave-cloths about him. Face wrapped in cloth. Hands and feet still bound with strips of cloth. Jesus then commands: “Unbind him! Let him go!” Or, as my favorite translation of the words of Jesus put it, “LOOSE-YE-HIM!”
In this time now, our time, many across the world are bound in fear. We rightfully guard selves and others from disease sealing ourselves off from one another. In this time, Jesus knows our sorrow. In this time of fearing death and losing hope, Jesus knows our sorrow. In this time of longing for the essential of hands touching hands, hugs meeting hugs, Jesus knows our sorrow. In this time of longing to see others up close not at a distance, Jesus knows the caverns within our hearts where longings reside. Jesus knows our weariness…and in all of this, all that has been, all that is, all that will be, Jesus knows our sorrow and sorrows with us. No barrier is strong enough to keep Jesus from us.
So it is that as fear and grief bring tears to eyes and cause our voices to break, we can join one another to say, to sing: “it is well, it is well, with my soul.” For Jesus, deeply moved by our grief, fears, deep yearnings, weeps with us, and says to us, “be-ye-loosed” now and forever into the arms of the Love of God. And so in the midst of peace, like a river, or seas that roll, we can know all is well, all is well.
(See and hear the hymn “Peace Like A River, All is Well” — published almost 150 years ago–in a recent “virtual-cellphone” choir from Nashville, computer search for “wsmv nashville virtual choir.”
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month our contributor is Pastor Kris Garey, Trinity Lutheran Church, Hovland.
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