I Wish I Had Been There!Sýnishorn

Jesus raises Lazarus

I generally don't enjoy shiva (the seven days of mourning after a funeral), but this one was particularly hateful. My cousin Lazarus had died. He was my favorite cousin. He was always smiling, generous to a fault, and kind. His loss weighed heavy on all of us, but whatever sadness we felt was nothing compared to what his sisters, Martha and Mary, were going through. They were inconsolable.

I did not know what to say or do. That's what I hate. I hate the long, tortured awkwardness of trying to empathize with someone going through the unimaginable grief of the loss of a loved one. I put my arm around Mary and said something imbecile like, "He is in a better place."

Then Martha came into the house and pulled Mary aside. (She had gone to meet the prophet Jesus, who apparently was on the way to the house.) I was skeptical of this Jesus. I had seen many a false prophet come and go. I hadn't made up my mind about Jesus yet.

Then Mary turned to leave, and we all followed, thinking that she was going to the tomb to weep. However, she actually went to meet Jesus outside the village. She fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

"Very convenient of Him," I thought.

“Where have you put him?” Jesus asked.

"Lord, come and see," someone said.

Then Jesus started to cry, and something inside me broke. I mean, he was supposed to be a great prophet and a healer. Shouldn't he have known? He should have come. Lazarus was his friend, after all. Clearly, he loved him. Certainly, if he could heal a blind man, he could have healed his friend. He had some audacity to cry now! I was fuming on the inside as we walked to the tomb.

When we arrived, Jesus said almost with a growl, “Roll the stone aside!” The anger I heard in his voice matched the way I felt on the inside. A rage against meaningless suffering. It took me by surprise to hear my emotions reflected in his voice, but I had no time to process what I was feeling before Martha protested, “Lord, he has been dead for four days. The smell will be terrible.”

Jesus responded, “Didn’t I tell you that you would see God’s glory if you believe?” I looked from Jesus to Martha, back to Jesus, and then to my uncles and brothers as they began to roll the stone that was blocking the tomb aside.

"What is he doing???" I thought. My insides roiled in protest. "Why is he toying with Mary and Martha's emotions???" An avalanche of my own emotions seemed to rise up from my stomach and get caught in a giant lump in my throat. My eyes started to water. "No, no, no, no, no," I repeated to myself, as though warning myself now not to get my hopes up.

Jesus looked up to heaven and said, “Father, thank you for hearing me. You always hear me, but I said it out loud for the sake of all these people standing here so that they will believe you sent me.” Then he shouted, “Lazarus, come out!” The shout split the atmosphere like a thunderclap.

An audible gasp erupted from the crowd as Lazarus stumbled out of the tomb. We all just stared, mouths agape, as he struggled with the grave clothes that bound him. It was only when Jesus said, "Unwrap him and let him go," that we all awoke as from a reverie and surged forward to receive our brother, our cousin, our nephew.... come back to life! We laughed. We cried. We shouted praises to God!

As I helped unwrap him, it was as though the roller coaster of emotions that I had pent up inside finally erupted. I collapsed to the ground, clutching Lazarus' head cloth and bawling uncontrollably. My cousin was alive. I couldn't believe it. My cousin was alive! It was now my turn to be consoled as Jesus knelt down and put his arms around my shoulders. I wept all the more, shuddering uncontrollably. "You don't know," my mind screamed, "I'm not worthy." I tried to shrink closer to the dirt.

"Have you made up your mind about me now?" Jesus whispered.

"Yes," I squeaked. I swallowed. "Ye-s-s-s-s," I tried again between sobs. "You are the Messiah."