Today (the Saturday before Palm Sunday) is Lazarus Saturday in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. What follows is a brief reflection on the day from my Pilgrim Year book series (Chapter 16 of the Lent booklet) followed by one of my favourite SB songs: Bethany in the Morning.
Lazarus of Bethany
It is no accident that church tradition celebrates the resurrection of Lazarus on a Saturday (Sabbath), the final day of creation, making it also a foretaste or signpost of re-creation.
It is also poetically poignant that Lazarus Saturday falls on the eve of Palm Sunday, the day Jesus set out from Bethany on a donkey to goad the great and final confrontation by which He conquered death through death.
The story is found in John’s gospel (11:1-45) and is worth reading slowly to catch the many nuances of meaning.
We read how Jesus, as He comes upon his grieving friends Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus, is Himself overcome by grief. Scripture gives us that wonderful verse, “Jesus wept” (11:35), which is the perennial favourite of ambitious Sunday school children who are rewarded with a silver star for every verse they memorize.
Here we see Jesus as “very human,” subject to sorrow and acquainted with loss. Later, we hear Jesus cry in a loud voice, “Lazarus come forth!“ (11:43), and glimpse Him then as “very God,” whose word calls light out of darkness, life out from death.
This passage also records the wonderful discourse with Martha when Jesus staggers comprehension with the claim “I AM the resurrection!“
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” John 11:27
The word resurrection is cognate with the word resurgence. Jesus is claiming to be (in His very being) the surprising resurgence of Life itself, which, in the case of Lazarus, appeared to have been extinguished.
Ironically, it could be said that Jesus was mistakenly labeled and executed as an insurgent when He was actually a resurgent. Denying this difference was a tactical error made by God’s enemies, the Kingdom of Darkness, whose apparent victory at Golgotha was the very means by which it was fatally infected with the gospel virus.
The meaning of the names in this passage is intriguing. First, the name Lazarus means God has helped, signifying God’s orientation toward the helpless. Second, the name Bethany—the village where Lazarus lived and from which Jesus staged His triumphal entry into Jerusalem—means house of misery or poor-house.
Scholars assert that Bethany was populated with the unwell and poor. This is where Simon the Leper lived (Mark 14:3-9). This is also where the disciples objected to Mary’s extravagant anointing of Jesus, which gave the context for Jesus’ seemingly callous response, “the poor you’ll always have with you” (John 12:8). Given the attendant superstitions, alienating prejudices, and wounding judgments surrounding issues of poverty and illness, it is doubtful that any self-respecting sovereign would have any association whatsoever with the place, let alone call its inhabitants friends.
But when you consider Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a lowly donkey, a staggering picture starts to emerge. The unique glory of this sovereign is not in the display of splendour and power common to disassociated sovereigns of the day, but instead it is evidenced by His com-passion with the marginalized, the miserable and the defeated. The banner of His reign could be summarized with the tag line: Lazarus Bethany! God has helped the house of misery.
While I was thinking about what to write for this chapter, I started poking around the Internet for icons of Lazarus. The contemplation of icons can garner a person a deeper understanding of spiritual truths, and I have often been rewarded for sitting patiently in front of them.
The icon pictured above caught my eye. Even though I am not a skilled interpreter of art, I was immediately drawn to the contrast and tension of the image. First, Jesus is portrayed at the centre of the icon, stepping over a collapsed bridge, a failed infrastructure, perhaps symbolizing religiosity or the vain pretentions of Pax Romana. Behind Him, huddled away from the cliff’s edge, are a group of well-dressed noblemen (Pharisees?) whose callous incredulity sullies their finery. In front of Him, Jesus inclines toward Lazarus, flanked by his sisters and friend Simon the Leper, whose humble attire contrasts that of the noblemen.
In his left hand Jesus raises the heraldic Cross, the emblem of His Kingdom. And in His right hand He holds the hand of lowly Lazarus who kneels on ground that is beginning to fall away.
The mountains in the background symbolize the two natures of Christ: very man and very God. And the whole image is wreathed in greenery: the fresh life of vine and leaf.
Lazarus Saturday marks a very significant shift in Lent —as we enter into Holy Week, we suddenly slow down to real time as the drama of God’s rescue unfolds.
We have deeply considered, and repented tearfully of, our collaboration with darkness. But our efforts now pale as the camera zooms in, as it were, on the passion of Christ in His final days.
There will be a real but brief celebration before all hell breaks loose.
There will be an intense increase in fury until it climaxes in the unspeakable.
Then, silence.
And then, well… wait for it!
BETHANY IN THE MORNING
by Steve Bell & Diana Pops
Praise the lord
blessed be
who has come to help the house called Bethany
and defends
those broken friends
who’ve been crying.
Comes a light
Breaks the dawn
Can you feel the ray of hope for those whose hope is gone?
Lift your head
Dry your eyes
Time for rising
Praise the Lord
Blessed be
Who brings comfort to the very least of these
In whose hands
The journey ends,
Joy surprises.
From the east
with every morn
can you hear the voice that summons up Horizon’s song?
Lift your head
dry your eyes
time for rising
Praise the Lord
Blessed be He
Anointed in the house of misery
Who defends
the humble hands
that bode His dying
Who braved the night
retrieved the dawn
A ray of hope for those whose hope is gone
lift your head
dry your eyes time for rising