Wingham United Church

March 22, 2026

He Wept

John 11:1-45

          Today’s Gospel lesson is a good example of why it is so important to dig deeper when reading scripture. On first read, the obvious interpretation centers on Jesus’ ability to bring life from death, especially because the First Testament reading for today is Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones brought back to life. As I wrote the prayers and picked the hymns for this Sunday’s service, that was the message I had in mind.

          As I was praying on Tuesday morning, however, I was shown a much different message, and my focus shifted from Lazarus to his two sisters, Martha and Mary. In their grief, both come to Jesus with the same statement: “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

          We know enough about the sisters to be able to hear these words, although identical, expressed very differently. Martha is the older sister, a take charge and get things done sort of person, focused on the practical needs of those around her. She would do her utmost to appear strong, even stoic. We know she has a temper and is not afraid to say what’s on her mind. I can imagine her doing her best to hide her grief. Surrounded by all these people who have come to comfort them, she would stand strong, keeping her emotions to herself. Her mind would be on how she could extend hospitality to all these people, perhaps secretly wishing they would all just go home and leave her and her sister alone. Martha would shed her tears in private, after everyone else had gone. 

     When she hears that Jesus is coming, finally, she goes out to meet him. She’s going to give him a piece of her mind. I can almost hear her words; her grief tinged with anger that their old friend had abandoned them in their hour of need.  “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died!” as if to say, “Where were you? Why didn’t you come? Don’t you care?”

          Mary, however, is the gentler, more spiritual of the two. Her grief would be evident. She would not hold back her tears. She would not be afraid to let her vulnerability be seen. She would find comfort in the presence of their friends, hugging each one as they arrived, sobbing on their shoulders, allowing herself to be held by those she trusted. She only goes to meet Jesus when she is told that he is waiting for her. When Martha left to go meet Jesus, the other mourners stayed with Mary, but when Mary leaves, they all go with her, to continue to offer comfort and compassion in her grief.

          She says the exact same words: “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” There would be no anger or sense of accusation in her tone. Only sad acknowledgement that things could have gone differently.

          The reactions of the two sisters remind me of many funeral services I have led, but as I contemplated their words, one in particular came to mind. Unlike the majority of funerals I have conducted, this one was for someone I knew and had come to call a friend. I was among the first to learn of his diagnosis, and I accompanied him and his family through his illness. When he died, I had a firm idea of what I was going to say at his funeral, and for the first and last time, I began preparing the service before I met with the family. When I sat down at the kitchen table with his family, in the farmhouse where they had been raised, I asked a question I nearly always ask. “Do you have a scripture in mind that you would like me to incorporate in the service?” Most people don’t, but she did, and the one she chose sent all the work I had done right out the window. The scripture she wanted me to speak from at his funeral was Mark 4:35-41 – a story in which Jesus and his disciples are sailing across the Sea of Galilee and get caught up in a great storm. As the boat begins to fill with water and is in danger of sinking, the panicked disciples suddenly realize that Jesus is sleeping in the back of the boat. They wake him up, shouting, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”

          That is the way the family had felt as their husband and father had fought and lost his battle with cancer, as though Jesus was asleep in the back of the boat, and they were left to face the storm alone. Martha and Mary likely felt much the same way. I think many of us have felt that way, that Jesus either was unaware of what we were experiencing, or just didn’t seem to care.

     Yet our story today contains the shortest, but perhaps one of the most profound statements in all of scripture. Verse 35 states simply, “Then Jesus wept.” That’s the whole verse. Three words. In some translations, only two. But why did he weep?

          The crowd thinks its because he, too, is mourning the death of his good friend, but Jesus knew before he ever arrived that he was going to raise Lazarus from the grave. He said so to his disciples. So, since he knew that he was about to call Lazarus back, why did he weep? Why was he so sad?

          I think it’s because he was affected by the sadness and shared in the grief of those around him. Jesus knows our sadness, our pain, our despair, and he feels those emotions with us, even though he knows they are temporary. When we go through tough times, Jesus goes through them with us. Those three little words tell us so much about our relationship with our Saviour. Even though he knew he was going to raise Lazarus from death, even though he knows that our loved ones will also be raised to eternal life, he not only knows and understands our grief, he feels it and weeps as we weep. It’s really beautiful, when you stop and think about it.

          The scripture also tells us that Jesus became angry. That part puzzles me. What made him angry? I searched every resource I could think of for an answer to that, but it seems I am not the only one puzzled. No one could answer the question with any certainty, and most of the attempts to figure it out seemed rather flimsy, as though they are grasping at straws. Some believe he is angry at the lack of the crowd’s faith, but how could he expect them to think Lazarus’ death was not permanent.

     I think there is a different reason. Just as Martha’s response was so very different from Mary’s response, Jesus felt them both. He wept with them in their sadness and he felt their anger.          So, while it might seem like Jesus isn’t responding to our lives or our prayers, he’s right there, living it with us, weeping with us or celebrating with us or feeling our anger. It tells us that there is no right or wrong way to feel at those times, and that whatever we feel, however we respond, Jesus understands and has compassion.

          In this case, Jesus allowed certain things to happen, even though he knew it would be hard for some people to experience, so that they and others could experience the power and grace of God and come to believe the Good News that Jesus came to share with us. Lazarus, Martha, and Mary all had a time of suffering, but what Jesus did led them to what must have been an overwhelming joy in the end and helped many others learn what they already knew about Jesus. He loves and cares for us and has power over life and death.

          While our loved ones will probably not be raised from the tomb after their death as Lazarus was, Jesus still calls them out of the grave to a place so far greater than this world, we cannot even imagine it. So, when someone we love is called to leave this life and enter the fuller, real life beyond, we can take comfort knowing that Jesus understands how we feel and stays with us through the pain, sadness, and anger, holding us in his loving embrace, and urging us to release them into his care: unbind them and let them go.

Rev. Colin Snyder, MDiv