Homily

The Gospel passage that we heard is among those that demonstrate the power and greatness of Jesus’ love. He finds himself far from the village of his friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus when he receives the news of his friend’s death. Jesus would run into many problems by returning to Judea because of the threats he had received, nonetheless he decides to go to his friend: he does not remain far from the suffering and tragedy of life. For Jesus, friendship is a very profound thing. It is for ever. Conversely, how many times do people flee in the face of the suffering of others, adding the bitterness of loneliness to the drama of evil! Today we cannot but think of the many men and women who are weighed down by heavy stones. At times there are entire peoples oppressed by the cold and heavy slabs of war, hunger, loneliness, sadness, misfortune, and prejudice. They are all heavy, sad stones that weigh on people not out of chance or because of some bitter destiny. These stones are placed there by the evil will of people. And there seems to be a cruel race to dig graves and to rush to cover them over with heavy slabs.
Jesus’ disciples, even those of today, often want to remain distant from the many Lazaruses buried and oppressed. Perhaps like Martha they even reprimand Jesus, saying: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died!” It is as if to say: “Lord, if you had been close by, these horrible things would not have happened!” Or even to say: “If you had been near to those people, the exterminations would not have happened,” and so forth. In truth, the Gospel tells us that it is not Jesus, who is far away, but men and women. Sometimes people impede even Jesus from drawing near. Let us ask ourselves, rather, where we are while millions of people die of hunger. Where are we while millions of people are abandoned in hospitals? Where are we while, both near and far, there are people who die without anyone, who suffer without anyone noticing? And we can continue to ask ourselves these questions. And yet, close to each one of them, we do find Jesus.
He is the only one who remains close by and cries for his abandoned friends, as he did for Lazarus. At Gethsemane Jesus will be abandoned in the same way, and he will remain alone and sweat blood due to his anguish. Jesus is alone before Lazarus to hope against all odds. Even the sisters try to dissuade him when he wants to open the tomb. “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days,” Martha tells him. Yes! The tomb already smells -- just as the poor smell; just as the refugee camps with hundreds of thousands of refugees smell; just as all of those on whom humanity heaps its wickedness smell! But Jesus does not stop. His affection for Lazarus is much stronger than the resignation of his friend’s sisters; he is much wiser than reason itself, than the very evidence of things. The Lord’s love knows no boundaries, not even death; he wants the impossible. That tomb, then, is not the final resting place of Jesus’ friends. For this reason he calls out: “Lazarus, come out!” His friend hears the voice of Jesus precisely as it is written: “The sheep hear his voice,” and again: “The good shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” (Jn 10:3). And already the prophet Ezekiel had written: “I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people” (37: 12).
Lazarus hears his voice and comes out of the tomb. Jesus does not speak to a dead person, but to a living person, at most one who is sleeping, and for this perhaps Jesus cries out. And he invites the others to undo the strips of cloth from his friend. But, in fact, by unbinding the “dead” Lazarus, Jesus unbinds each one of us from our egoism, coldness, and indifference and from our dead sentiments. Ancient eastern tradition recounts that Lazarus, once risen, eats nothing but sweets to underline the fact that life given by the Lord is sweet and beautiful, that the feelings the Lord deposits in our hearts are strong and tender, robust and loving and defeat every bitterness and sourness. “I am the resurrection and the life,” says the Lord. In his Gospel, in his body, life rises up. “Take away the stone.” Jesus opens up the place of death. He is not afraid of our weakness, of our sin, of all that makes us, half-hearted as we are, draw away from life’s difficulties and push aside suffering. “Lazarus, come out!” Jesus calls each person by name. A name represents the entirety of a person’s life. He protects life from evil. His love is personal. Today God’s friendship, which we see reflected in the friendship that he generates among people, calls our hearts and the world reduced to sepulchres back into joy. Lazarus anticipates Easter, when Jesus, friend of the suffering of every person, will be taken over by evil. Will we know how to be his friends and be moved for him? This is the choice we must make during Lent.