Three Consolations

Composed by: Sr. Mary Magdalene

I just finished reading a recent post in the Dominican student brothers’ online publication known as Dominicana.  The February 25, 2016 edition supplied a link to the latest installment of Reflections on Ethics, Faith & Health Care, a weekly series from Dominican Friars Health Care Ministry of New York.  I come from a healthcare background so I found myself naturally drawn to the series. This week’s post was entitled, “The Consoling Love of Christ: A Reflection on John 11: 1-44.”  In it the author, Fr. Jonah Pollock, O.P., uses the well-known Scripture passage on the death of Lazarus and the grief of his sisters to explore 3 ways in which Jesus approaches the human person as consoler and healer.  If you’ll indulge me, I found it to be very well done and worth sharing.

First, a refresher on the story.  Jesus, we are told in Scripture, received word that his good friend Lazarus was ill and dying.  Rather than rushing immediately to his side, Jesus “delayed 2 days” before returning.  When he arrived, Martha came to meet him and exclaimed, “had you been here, Lord, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you” (John 11:21-22).   Lazarus had already been in the tomb about 4 days. A short time later, their sister Mary comes to the Lord.  She falls at his feet and sobs, saying “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” The familiar story culminates with Jesus going to the tomb and calling Lazarus back to life.

Fr. Pollock then went on to look at Jesus’ three main encounters within the story and how the Lord’s compassion and consolation are manifest in each.  The first is with Martha. When she approaches Jesus, she is both grieving and perhaps even a little bit frustrated with the Lord’s delay in coming.  Jesus responds by telling her that Lazarus will rise, and reminding her that Jesus, himself, is the resurrection and the life.  He asks her, “Do you believe this?” and gives her an opportunity for her own profession of faith, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” It is significant to note that he asks her this even before he raises Lazarus from the dead.  Fr. Pollock notes that Jesus is asking Martha to “trust Him”.  The Lord asks the same of us.  To trust that He is “the resurrection and the life” and that “all who believe will have eternal life”

The next encounter, of course, is with Mary.  Mary, we are told, “fell at his feet….weeping."  And Jesus’ response was silence. He saw her tears and was “disturbed……and (He) wept."  Over many years in healthcare, I have found myself referring to this passage frequently.  When I’ve had friends or patients who are grieving the loss of a loved one and “apologizing” for crying, I have often referred to this line in Scripture, “And Jesus wept.”  Jesus wept even though he knew exactly what would come next!  Knowing, as he did, that he would soon be calling Lazarus from the grave, why did he weep?  Fr. Pollock reminds us that Jesus is “fully human."  He wept because he loved his friend Lazarus.  He wept because Mary was weeping and he understood her suffering.  He shared in her sorrow and he shares in our sorrows, as well.

And now for the third encounter.  It may have seemed that Jesus was unconcerned with Lazarus’ illness.  He did, after all, delay his return to Bethany.  But perhaps there is something more than this. When Jesus first hears of Lazarus’ illness, and before he begins the journey to return to his friend’s side, Jesus tells his disciples “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”  But our loved ones’ lives do end in death, we might bemoan.  In fact, even Lazarus, once brought back from death, will live out his natural life and die once again!  It seems there was a greater purpose in the experience for Lazarus and his sisters.  It was “for the glory of God” and it is said that “many came to believe in Him” as the result.

I’d like to tell you about a visit I just shared with an older friend who is in the hospital, on the psychiatric unit.  She shared with me that she was finding herself in a dark period.  She said that she could only manage to “pray words and did not feel God.” I found myself applying Fr. Pollock’s “consolations” to my friend’s experience.   As I told her about Lazarus and his illness bringing about “the glory of God," she told me how many of the other patients she’s in contact with have shared some of their stories with her and appreciated her ability to listen and respond with compassion. “You’re being the face of Christ," I told her, “even in your pain."  As her tears began to flow, we spoke of that short but powerful verse in Scripture, “And Jesus wept."  She was comforted in the knowledge that the Lord knows her sorrows and sits in the midst of them with her.  And Martha?  Even in those moments when we cannot sense God’s intimate presence, when he seems to delay in coming, He asks us to trust.  Trust that there is something on the other side of this present darkness. And this “something” is His wonderful light.

Perhaps these are “consolations” worth pondering during our Lenten journey.  This voluntarily accepted desert time we choose in the hope of drawing closer to our Lord.  Trust that the Lord is both the culmination of the journey and the companion along its way.  Allow this man of sorrows to sit with you in the midst of your tears and you, in turn, be willing to sit with another.  Recognize that now “we see dimly, as if through a veil” and we may not recognize the ultimate good that might come from our present experiences.  This, too, is a consolation.  It is the consolation of being allowed to (in some small way) participate in bringing about the glory of God.

Image: Duccio, The Raising of Lazarus

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