Some Reflections on Lazarus Saturday
There are so many beautiful services in the Orthodox Church during Great Lent, but there is one in particular that has pierced my heart more than any of them. It is Lazarus Saturday, where we commemorate Christ’s raising Lazarus from the dead. At first, I wasn’t even sure why it made me feel the way that it did. The story from John, Chapter 11 has always been one of my favorites. As I reflect on its history in my own life, I am beginning to understand more about how the beauty of Christ’s own humanity has made it possible for me to become fully human again. When I say “fully human,” what I mean is that it is possible for a Christian to live a life so surrendered to Christ, that His image in them is fully realized and can be restored to what God had originally intended before the fall. This truth of restoration, or healing of the soul, has been the teaching of Christ’s Church since its beginning. It is unfortunate that many Christians today no longer understand this truth: that the soul’s healing is a process, and not just a “right standing” before God, which often reduces their relationship with God to a contractual agreement. This has unfortunate consequences in the lives of those who have a deep desire to seek the fullest possible relationship with God. In my own life it led to me feeling frustrated, like I had hit a wall when I sought to know Christ on a deeper level.
So, why does Lazarus’s story so profoundly affect my own?
The winter of 1998 was one of the darkest times I have ever experienced. I was severely depressed. My existance had been reduced to the entrapment of myself within the prison of my own mind. It felt like I was living in a cold, dark cave without any purpose and no hope of escape. I wanted to die. I don’t remember many ‘moments’ from that period, but one does stand out. I was riding in the car with my husband and parents. It was dark so no one could see me. I was crying my eyes out, thinking about Jesus, entering Bethany, calling into the darkness of Lazarus’s tomb and beckoning him to “come forth.” Just like that, he was alive after being dead for four days. The ache in my own soul was deep as I thought about the sweetness of Christ’s voice and what it must have sounded like to the soul of Lazarus. What joy must have quickened that soul to unite with its lifeless, earthly body – to once again experience life in the here and now? I wanted that! I wanted to be drawn out from the darkness of the tomb in which I had been existing for months. I wanted to live again. But what I think was happening on a much deeper level was that my soul, made in the image of God, yet corrupted by sin, was crying out to be healed.
When I ponder what is going on in this story, it is truly astounding. We learn that Mary, Lazarus’s sister, is the same Mary who anointed Christ’s feet with oil and wiped them with her hair. Then, in John 11:5 it says “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” For the Apostle to point this out in his Gospel stood out poignantly to me. Christ’s love, manifested in the lives of this family is a powerful picture of the love that He has for every one of us. We see it illustrated also in that He was willing to go to Judea, where He knew he was in danger of being killed, to be with Mary and Martha. When he arrives, Martha goes to Him. Jesus proclaims the Gospel to her, that He is the Resurrection and the Life and it is clear that Martha believes in her heart this truth. Christ then waits for Mary who, upon learning of His presence, runs to Him and falls at His feet. When Christ sees their sorrow, He is in anguish. Then when He is taken to Lazarus’s tomb, He weeps – God Himself – weeping for a man. The Jews remarked, “See how He loved Him!” Even though Christ was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, He weeps for him anyway! Why? Because He loved Lazarus. He loved Lazarus’s sisters. He wept over their sorrow. I had to believe that He wept over my sorrow, too.
Last year was my first Lazarus Saturday service. Great Lent has ended. It is the day before we enter into the quiet sorrow of Holy Week, in which we remember Christ’s final days before His crucifixion. During the Lazarus Saturday Liturgy, we sing one of the most powerful hymns ever written for the Church, “Rejoice, O Bethany!” The first time I sang it, its meaning was so heavy that it brought me to tears. I realized that Bethany, the little village where Jesus performed one of his most beautiful miracles, is also my soul. It is the place that contains the image of God in me. The place yearning to be made whole again and freed from the grip of darkness – called forth by the loving voice of my Savior. As I experienced my first Lazarus Saturday, it was like my past was finally brought to light in that present moment as I sang those powerful words…brought to life by the One Who is the Resurrection and the Life. I want to share with you the words of this hymn, as well as the music for the Koinonikon, which you can listen to here.
Rejoice, rejoice, O Bethany!
On this day God came to thee,
And in Him the dead are made alive,
As it is right for He is the Life.
When Martha went to receive Him,
Grieving loudly with bitter tears,
She poured out the sorrow of her heart to Him
With great sadness, wailing her lament.
She at once cried out unto Him:
“My most compassionate Lord, my Lord,
At the great loss of my brother Lazarus
My heart is broken, help me.”
Jesus said to her, “Cease your weeping,
Cease your grieving and sad lament;
For your brother, My most beloved friend, Lazarus,
Very soon will live again.”
Then He, the faithful Redeemer,
Made His way unto the tomb,
Where he cried unto him who was buried four days,
Calling him forth, saying “Lazarus, arise.”
Come with haste, ye two sisters,
And behold a wondrous thing,
For your brother from the tomb has returned to life.
To the beloved Redeemer now give thanks.
To Thee, O Lord of creation,
We kneel down in reverence profound,
For all we who are dead in sin,
In Thee, O Jesus, are made alive.
–A Koinonikon for Lazarus Saturday,
Composed in Arabic by Metropolitan Athanasios Attallah of Homs, and
Translated and arranged by Bishop +BASIL (Essey)
Renewing Eve 