Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather, it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
John 11:1-45
Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the [religious leaders] were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”
When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house consoling her saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 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 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 upward 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.”
Many of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did believed in him.
My sermon from the Fifth Sunday in Lent (March 22, 2026) on John 11:1-45.
It’s finally Spring and I’m seeing our red-chested friends – aka robins – all over the place. They’ve been chirping outside my bedroom window, jumping all over the picnic tables here at church, and stare at me every time I walk the dog past my neighbors’ yards. Robins stand out against the gradually greening background of grass still covered by uncollected branches and leaves. I don’t know who taught me that robins were a sign Spring was on its way but it’s a sight I’ve latched onto when the cold and shadow of winter becomes too much. And if you had asked me a few weeks ago why I felt robins were so important, I’d have said their return reminds us of the new life God gives us every day. I assumed these birds traveled somewhere far away during the winter months. And while there are some robins, especially those in Northern Canada who leave for warmer weather, the robins who call New Jersey home tend to stick around. Robins, unlike other birds, don’t really mind the cold since they can add warm, downy-like feathers under the ones they already wear. Robins spend their winters changing what they eat, switching from worms and insects towards the winter fruits and berries on our native bushes. Some robins in New Jersey head to the shore, joining flocks that can number into the thousands. But most retreat from our yards into local forests and woodlands while taking a break from singing their loud summer song. Their silence and their hiding among the bushes is why, when the nights get long, we assume they’re gone. But even when winter roars, these robins are still here. Now I’m pretty sure Jesus never saw an American Robin while traveling through Galilee and Judea 2,000 years ago. Yet the bird’s experience of still being here when spring feels like a distant memory might help us explore what happened when Jesus visited Mary and Martha after they laid their brother in a tomb.
Today’s reading from the gospel according to John is the fourth long story we’ve heard this Lent. We started this journey meeting Nicodemus who came to Jesus in the middle of the night and heard what might be the most famous verse from our Christian Scriptures. Then, after hanging out at a well with a Samaritan woman who showed the apostles what it looks like to proclaim God’s good news, we met a man who was born blind and refused to be anything other than the beloved child of God he already was. During these stories, we might find ourselves racing through the narrative towards their climax and resolution. But we can also choose to slow down and sit in those parts where conflict, shadow, confusion, and doubt showed up. I’ll admit it can feel a little irreverent to not immediately jump to the part where everything turns out okay. Yet many of us know it’s often during the really messy parts of life when our faith grows. The length and details within these stories gives us permission to not rush to the end. We can, instead, linger in the weird bits while holding onto everything that made this week a bit harder than it should have been. And so, for me, the weird part I’m lingering in is Jesus’s delay. This is, in John, the first time we meet Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. And while we don’t know how they met, we get a sense they and Jesus were friends. They recognized Jesus as a healer and they experienced him as a person who would show up. Those of us who’ve experienced how quickly life can change know how powerful it can be for someone to be there while our world comes crumbling down. So it’s totally reasonable and faithful to assume the One who cured the sick, turned water into wine, and calmed a storm with only a word would drop everything to visit a sick friend. And while we’re told over and over again that this story would turn out okay, in the words of Rev. Erica MacCreaigh, Mary, Marth, and Lazarus didn’t need some “cavalier omniscience.” What they needed was Jesus and what he did was wait.
And a God who waits isn’t the God we tend to pray to. The fact we call Jesus a Savior implies we want Jesus’s work to be immediate, sudden, and absolute. Waiting for God to show up when life turns upside down is one of the hardest things we live through. And while healing and wholeness can sometimes come quite quickly, it’s more common for the yearnings in our heart to feel unanswered. We then wonder if God really is here or maybe God is here but is encouraging our grief and sorrow. Jesus told his disciples several times that Lazarus was merely sleeping so we might imagine that Lazarus’ purpose was to be some kind of object lesson for those who came after him. But this lesson involved real people experiencing real grief and pain. Martha’s and Mary’s words to Jesus weren’t, I think, meant to feel theological and faithful. They were delivered to Jesus full of all kinds of angst, doubt, sorrow, worries, and faith. And while Jesus could have acted like he did with the disciples by simply repeating what he planned to do, Jesus’ strange waiting was matched in weirdness by a very emotional moment. He didn’t call the sisters out. He didn’t brag about what would happen next. Rather, the One who was there when the universe was made and who knew what he could do, cried instead.
Now John doesn’t tell us why Jesus cried and the response from the crowd wasn’t, I think, why Jesus did what he did. His tears weren’t his way of playing up the scene or making this lesson feel more real. Jesus’ tears were, I believe, honest and authentic because maybe he really did regret taking so long to get there or the reality of the tomb broke the heart of God’s son in two. It’s possible this moment was in John’s version of Jesus’ life – his Garden of Gethsemane where even the Divine realized everything that came with life. Being human is never easy and what we’ll face will always include more than moments filled with happiness, success, and progress. A well lived life is filled with experiences and relationships that we wish we could have held onto a little bit longer. Jesus wasn’t, I think, trying to deny how difficult life can be nor does he imply our life with him will make this longing truly disappear. Rather Jesus knows that before Spring can come, we have a winter we have to go through. And these winters are not abhorrent to God nor does God give them to us to test us or see what makes us tick. Instead, our grief, sadness, frustration, anxiety, worry, and tears are held by a Jesus who not only knows what our life looks like but chose to live that kind of life too. And if our God has lived our story then we, through baptism and faith, can trust we’re united with all of Jesus’ story too. Not every one of our moments will receive the kind of answer Mary and Martha did when Jesus finally showed up nor will we always see the kind of Spring Lazarus did. But like the robins who linger with us no matter how long winter is, Jesus promises he is with you through your winter too. And just like the appearance of the robin and the sound of its song announces Spring is here, your life through and in Christ has only just begun.
Amen.