And I have a feeling that Martha told him a thing or two about entertaining. Food doesn't cook itself. The kitchen really does at some point have to be cleaned. Had I been Martha, I would have wondered why he didn't just make food and drink appear like he did at Cana or at least show up with a bottle or two. Had I been Martha, I would have had a word or two with Mary.
I suspect it was one of those things pyscologists call "dual relationships." I am sure it was tricky at times for Jesus to be buddies and to be the Son of God. Professionals have to work through this fuzzy area from time to time, particularly in close knit communities and it can be a challenge. It is hard to see the boundary sometimes. When we know a professional person in a personal setting, it can be very easy to forget who this person is in the eyes of others. And the one thing professionals probably long for more than anything else, is people to treat us like everybody else. But there are limits. We mess this up way more than we like to admit.
I think sometimes we are a little harsh on Martha. Personally, I just think she was in shock and experiencing profound grief. She didn't need Jesus her buddy that day, she needed Jesus, the Son of God. And Jesus had to come face to face with the reality of death. Obviously he had lost one of the people closest to him. Someone he could really just be himself with. Jesus did not just shed a tear or two over Lazarus' death, he wept. I imagine it was more like sobs racking his whole body and his eyes were swollen shut from crying so hard. I imagine he could not imagine how he was going to live through this grief. And I imagine that at least for a minute or two, he just wanted to grieve, not be the Son of God. He wanted someone to comfort him, not be the comforter.
Today as I set down in the church, I thought alot about that story and what Jesus told us about grief. The professional side of me tried to remember what best helps grief the most. The personal side of me re-remembered each loved one I have buried. The personal side of me was so moved by children walking in holding hands and the younger grandchildren wiping the eyes of the older grandchildren. The personal side of me looked for comfort that at times like these can be hard to find. Just like Martha.
At times in our lives our woundedness can make it difficult to remember and feel the promise of the resurrection. And like Jesus that day outside of Lazarus' tomb, the resurrection has not become personal experience just yet. At times like these, we cling to the words of the apostle Paul, "to be absent from the body is to be present with Christ." At times like these we wrap our fist around the words, "The Lord is my shepherd I want for nothing..." and "I do not leave you comfortless..."
But on that day I wonder if Jesus didn't say more practical things to Martha. Things that get you through the day. I wonder if Jesus didn't tell Martha, just breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. One breath at a time. Put a bite of food in your mouth. Chew it up. Swallow it. Even though you won't be able to taste a thing. Go to bed when it is dark and get up when it is light. You get dressed. Do all the things living people do because you are still alive. Part of you will be buried with your loved one, but not all. Not the love. Not the hope. Not the memory.
I also wondered if I could see through that thin veil that separates life from death, could I see Jesus walking around hugging everybody and passing out tissues and making dinner and wiping tears. I suspect I would have.
The story of Lazarus also shows us the great power of love in the messiness of life and how God can work through whatever boundaries separate us from our common life together. Jesus showed us that day the power of love to heal. He showed us how very powerful love of God, the awe inspiring love of God that transcends our culture's romanticized and twisted view at times.
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