Fifth Sunday of Lent (A) 6 April 2014
John 11: 1-45
A PROPHET WHO WEEPS
José Antonio Pagola
Jesus never conceals his affection for two sisters and a brother who live in Bethany. Certainly, they are the ones who always welcome him in their home whenever he goes up to Jerusalem. One day Jesus receives a message: our brother Lazarus, your friend, is sick ... Within a short time, Jesus makes his way towards the small village.
When he appears there, Lazarus has already died. On seeing him arrive, Maria, the younger sister, begins to weep. No one can console her. On seeing his friend weep, as also the Jews who accompany her, Jesus can no longer contain himself. He, too, “begins to weep” together with them. The people remark: “See how much he loved him!”
Jesus does not weep only for a much loved friend. He is crushed on feeling the helplessness of everyone faced with death. We all have in the depths of our being an unquenchable desire to live. Why do we have to die? Why isn’t life more happy, longer, more secure, more lively?
People today, as in all times, have deep in their hearts the most disquieting question and one difficult to answer: What will happen to all and each one of us? It is useless to try to deceive ourselves. What can we do? Rebel against our fate? Get depressed?
Without any doubt, the most usual reaction is to forget ourselves, and carry on with life. But, isn’t the human being called to live his life responsibly in an enlightened manner?
Must we approach only the end of our lives in an unthinking and irresponsible manner, without taking any position?
Before the ultimate mystery of our destiny it is not possible to appeal to scientific or religious dogmas. They cannot guide us beyond this life. The attitude of the sculptor Chillida seems more honorable. I once heard him say on a certain occasion: “About death, reason tells me it is definite. About reason, reason tells me it is limited.”
We Christians do not know more about the other life than anyone else. We too have to approach with humility the obscure fact of our death. But we do so with a radical trust in the Goodness of the Mystery of God whom we see in Jesus. That Jesus in whom, without having seen him, we place our trust.
This trust cannot be understood from the outside. It can only be lived by someone who has responded with simple faith to the words of Jesus: “I am the resurrection and the life. Do you believe this?” Recently, Hans Kung, the most critical catholic theologian of the twentieth century, already nearing his end, said that for him to die is “to rest in the mystery of the mercy of God.”
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