“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” These words, from the gospel passage about the raising of Lazarus, hold all the sorrow in the world. Martha and Mary, Lazarus’ sisters, each speak them as soon as they meet Jesus (Jn 11:21, 32). They’d sent word to Jesus almost a week before to come and heal Lazarus.
John writes, “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that he was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was” (11:5-6; emphasis mine). An inexplicable passage: so this is how you treat those you love, Lord? Yet He does love them, each uniquely. The rest of the episode bears this out.
Martha is the first of the three siblings to appear. She and Mary appear in two other gospel passages. In Luke 10:38-42, Martha is preparing the meal. She complains to Jesus that her sister Mary, rather than helping, is sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening to Him. In John 12:1-8, Martha is again serving the meal. Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with costly perfume and dries them with her hair. Martha is active and practical, a doer and a speaker. Mary is receptive and demonstrative.
In this episode, Martha is typically active, going out to meet Jesus. Her first words to him are, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” In the ensuing dialogue, Jesus challenges her to have faith. She does, to a point. But later, when Jesus orders the tomb to be opened, she speaks up. “Lord, by this time there will be an odor.” He again urges her to trust Him.
The image I have of Martha is of a pillar, washed by a waterfall of sorrow. She loved Lazarus. She wished he hadn’t died. She openly confesses this to the Lord. But she does so standing straight, gazing straight in Jesus’ eyes. “Here I am. Here’s my sorrow. Help me.”
Mary is sitting at home, waiting for her Lord to summon her. When He does, she comes to meet Him, crying out, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She falls at His feet, weeping, with heart laid bare. So another Mary (Magdalene) will when she recognizes her Risen Lord by the empty tomb (Jn 20:11-17). Jesus does not speak to Mary. He does not urge her to have faith. He weeps, weeps with her and the crowd.
Finally, there is Lazarus. He is dead. He is bound up with linen bandages. He cannot act, speak, wait for a summons, or weep at Jesus’ feet. He is powerless in every way. Jesus calls him out from death with a loud voice, and tells the mourners to unbind him.
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother, mother, daughter, husband would not have died…I would have seen the signs that she was going to kill herself…my parents would not have divorced…I wouldn’t have been raped, abused, bullied, excluded, abandoned…he wouldn’t have cancer…she wouldn’t have had the affair…I wouldn’t have mental illness…I would have had a chance to say goodbye.”
We may be the more stoic, practical type, like Martha – so Jesus urges us to hang on and have faith. We may be more passionate and emotional, like Mary – so Jesus weeps with us. We may be utterly unable to speak or move or act, like Lazarus – so Jesus comes to the tomb where we’re all bound up. He speaks power into our lifelessness, and sets us free.
“Lord, if you had been here…” Sometimes that’s all we can say to Him. It’s not an accusation; not even, exactly, a reproach. It’s an unspoken plea. “Jesus, here’s my heart. It’s broken. I am naked before You. I haven’t got the words to ask for what I need. I’m not sure I even know what I need. But something, some part of my life has died, and I need You to be my Resurrection. I need You to be my Life.” Whoever we are, He meets us where we’re at and gives us what we need. It may be after four days, or weeks, or months, or years of being locked in the tomb. But He meets us.
