Jesus Weeps

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 1, 2009, All Saints' Day.

Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Last week, our gospel reading was the glorious story of Blind Bartimaeus, a man who was shunned by the people because of his blindness. Bartimaeus was a beggar on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. He made a living being a nuisance to travelers. He lived a dirty life in a dangerous place on the margins of society.

Jesus called him, beckoned Bartimaeus to come to him. Leaving his old life behind with his cloak, Bartimaeus sprang up and came to Jesus. Bartimaeus receives two gifts, the first is his sight. The second gift he receives is the unconditional presence of the Lord. Bartimaeus is now and forever in the presence of the Lord. Every time we tell this story it is true. Every time we tell this story Bartimaeus is with Jesus. Every time we tell this story it is as true in the eternal sense, now as much as then, Bartimaeus is with Jesus.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of the prophet. Isaiah prophesies, Isaiah promises:

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the LORD has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the LORD for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of John the Revelator.

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them as their God;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

These promises are wonderful, and they are glorious. They are lived by Bartimaeus who lives in the words of Isaiah, walking beside Jesus, his tears wiped from his face. His disgrace nothing but a distant memory the moment that Jesus gives him the two greatest gifts he can receive, sight in his eyes and God’s own presence in his life now and forever.

The sorrow and mourning Bartimaeus knew were wiped from his eyes with the coming promise of the Revelation that the first things have passed away. It is the next thing, life in the presence of the Lord that is now his by the grace of Christ Jesus.

The lesson of Bartimaeus is revealed in the promises made in prophecy. They remind us that God is in this world, the Lord is with us.

We know, we have faith, it has been revealed that there will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain. The entire old order of things has passed away. The things that cause us to feel grief and pain released like dust in the wind.

This is where we can run into some trouble. It’s not that this isn’t true, it is. But just as it is true that the victory of Christ was won on the cross through his blood; there is still pain and grief and sorrow in this world.

Eugene Peterson wrote this for the introduction to Michael Card’s book, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.”

A number of years ago my mother died in Montana. My brother and sister, our spouses and children, gathered and prepared for the service of worship in which we would place our grief for her death and gratitude for her life before God. As the first-born I was appointed to conduct the funeral…I began reading Scriptures—several psalms, Isaiah’s strong words of comfort, Jesus’ parting words to His disciples, Paul’s archi-tec-tonic Romans 8, John’s final vision of heaven. I had done this scores of times over many years and have always loved doing it, saying again these powerful, honest words that give such enormous dignity to death and our tears. While reading, the air now thin between time and eternity, without warning lament surged within me. I tried to keep my composure and then just let it go…

The benediction pronounced, I ducked quickly into a small room just off the chancel. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. My twenty-two-year-old daughter slipped in beside me. We sat together, quiet and weeping our own “sacred sorrow.” And then a man I’d never seen before entered and sat down. He put his arm across my shoulder and spoke some preacherish clichés in a preacherish tone. Then, mercifully, he left. I said to my daughter, “Karen, I hope I’ve never done that to anybody.” She said, “Oh, Daddy, I don’t think you have ever done that.” I hope not.[1]

When we use these words of assurance to remember the promises of God that’s one thing, but when we use them as magic words to calm someone down so our pain is relieved, well, that’s the worst thing we can do.

There is an ancient theological concept that was greatly influenced by an even more ancient philosophical concept known as apatheia; it’s the root of our word apathy. The concept of apatheia allows us to define “God as one whose perfection leaves God unaffected by the contingencies and circumstances of the created order.”[2] John Calvin used this principle as a way to explain that the emotions attributed to God like the ones in this passage from John are the just way Scripture expresses what is truly incomprehensible in a way we can begin to understand.

To paraphrase this using the slang of a few years back: Divine emotion? It’s a God thing, you wouldn’t understand.

As for me, I don’t really understand that concept as it pertains to the Lord, and particularly not as it pertains to the fully human and fully divine Jesus of Nazareth. We read that because of the death of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is deeply disturbed in spirit. We read that Jesus is deeply moved. We read later again that Jesus is deeply disturbed. The Jews could even see that Jesus deeply loved Lazarus.

We read that Jesus began to weep.[3] Honestly though, I prefer the traditional translation of this verse, Jesus wept. Jesus was so overwhelmed that he wept at the loss of his friend. Jesus knew what he would do, and he knew what he would do for the glory of God for the sake of the crowd standing there; so that they may believe that it was the Father who sent the Son. Still, Jesus wept.

Jesus knew the pain. Jesus knew the grief. Jesus knew the sorrow. Jesus was overwhelmed.

Jesus knew the prophecy of Isaiah. Jesus knew the tears of the mourners would be wiped away. Jesus knew the extravagant grace and peace which comes from the glory seat of the Lord God Almighty would be known by his work.

Jesus knew the glory of the new heaven and the new earth; the glory made possible by the passing of the first heaven and the first earth. Jesus knew the glory of the holy city, the new Jerusalem. Jesus knew these things because he is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Jesus knew all of this and more than we could ever hope or imagine.

And Jesus wept.

Today as we celebrate All Saints’ Day, we celebrate those who have gone before us in the faith. Today we celebrate the life of Elizabeth Beck who played organ and provided music for worship for this part of the Body of Christ. We celebrate the life of Leah Chapman who was taken from this world all too soon. We celebrate the life of Raphael Mabry, and we celebrate the life of my mother Mary Margaret. We celebrate the lives of all of those who have preceded us onto the glory of God. As we celebrate their lives, and the richness that fills our lives because of them, we too mourn. We shed a tear as we smile. We weep.

We are the recipients, the heirs of these glorious promises; promises of peace, promises of grace. We have a confidence in the prophecies and we have confidence in Christ. By Christ, the kingdom of God is here; the kingdom of God is now. Still, we know by the realities of sin and life that the kingdom is not yet fully here, it is not yet. There is sorrow and there is mourning. In this not yet, Jesus weeps. Jesus who knows the fulfillment of the promises weeps with Martha and Mary. And Jesus weeps with us too.

[1] Card, Michael, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.” Introduction by Eugene Peterson. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2005, pages 11-12.
[2] “Feasting on the Word.” David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, page 236.
[3] John 11:35, New Revised Standard Version. This is the version we use in worship.