Can This Bird Die in Mid-Song?

...Not literally, of course. Death is ugly, and we'll likely not have energy for song in those last moments.

I ask this question as a follow-up to yesterday's question: Can this bird sing in any cage? That question was precipitated by yesterday's Book of Common Prayer reading from Jonah. I was challenged by they way Jonah belted out a song of praise from within the belly of the great fish.

After writing that blog, however, I went on to the Gospel reading for the day, which was taken from John 11. It covers the death and resurrection of Lazarus.

Jonah on steroids.

The story is terse in the telling. Lazarus was sick and dying. His sisters sent for Jesus, hoping he would come and heal him. Upon receiving the news, Jesus intentionally and purposefully refrained from visiting Lazarus until it was too late. Jesus then intentionally and purposefully showed up four days late — and proceeded to raise Lazarus back to life.

Once again... we readers know the whole story well, and so perhaps gloss over unpleasantries because we know the good ending. But poor Lazarus didn't have that luxury.

Jonah may have faced a bleak situation, but Jonah never died. Jonah was set free of his cage long before the throes of death approached. Lazarus, however, had to face death and meet it — because Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, thought it would be better that way.

Worse yet, Jesus didn't bother to explain any of this to Lazarus beforehand, either! So Lazarus met the end of his life with no escape from his condition and no clue as to what Jesus was up to. Lazarus died while Jesus was out of town.

Could Lazarus sing a song of praise to God through the entire ordeal? Not likely.

This passage is terrible in its greatness and mystery. Jesus, as always, was way beyond our normal ways of thinking. Jesus may have been out of town, but Lazarus was not out of his thoughts. He explained to the disciples, "Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe." The gospel writer John must have known just how bizarre and terrible this sounded, because he went on to write, "So although Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, he stayed where he was for the next two days."

John took pains in this account to point out two basic facts. Jesus did have power over death, and he did love Lazarus. So how did these two facts collide in Lazarus' life? They met a third terrible truth head on, which was this: Jesus had the long view in mind, and Lazarus was a pawn in a greater game.

It would be by raising a dead man to life that Jesus would strengthen the faith of lives untold throughout the ensuing centuries. Jesus wanted to give the world a cosmic demonstration of his power over death, and Lazarus happened to be the man he picked for the occasion.

How did Lazarus feel about this arrangement? We'll never know, since the gospel does not say. If Lazarus trusted to the very end that Jesus was in control and that Jesus loved him, he could have died with a song of praise in his heart. Odds are, however, that Lazarus was as bereft of hope as those living people Jesus encountered when he entered the scene.

How did Jesus feel about the situation? As soon as he arrived, he was overcome by sorrow. He wept. He was greatly troubled. The New Living Translation states that he was deeply angry. Garden of Gethsemane aside, I wonder if any other passage portrays Jesus in greater distress than the distress he evidenced here.

Why was he so upset? Because we mortals seem so singularly unable to die in mid-song. We have so little hope. Jesus knew and knows what we only dimly hope for. God wins in the end, and those he calls his own will rise again!

But we mortals see this ever so dimly. No wonder Jesus felt a demonstration of God's power would prove helpful.

Lazarus most likely died without hope on his first pass. I am sure Lazarus was more prepared on his second go-round.

As for me, I am the beneficiary of Jesus' longer view. I have the story of Lazarus to encourage me. Knowing this story, I hope that I too can rejoice in the mysteries of God's bigger plan — even if it involves my death in circumstances that neither I nor anyone else can understand.

Lord, let me sing to the very end, come what may.