St Margaret's Church Prestwich

Rev Sue preached this sermon on Passion Sunday, 22 March 2026. Here it is for you again:

I love a good story. One of the pleasures of my life is cooking a meal while listening to an audiobook. For me good fiction has convincing characters that I really care about, an absorbing plot and a sense that there is a level at which the book has something to say – it doesn’t just entertain – it makes me think. Anything from Charles Dickens to the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

So maybe that’s why today’s gospel reading is one of my favourite passages in the Bible. It has everything drama, characters, danger and through the story John teaches us the deepest truths about Jesus’ identity.

He is a master storyteller. He shows as well as tells. This is the climax of the first half of his gospel, and the last and greatest of the signs John tells us about, the miracles that reveal who Jesus is. He began with a wedding; he ends with a funeral.

There are three scenes: the delay, the encounters and the summons.

First the delay.  Jesus is some distance from Bethany when he gets a message – his close friend Lazarus is seriously ill. Although he has real affection for Lazarus and his sisters, he remains where he is for two more days. He knows that Lazarus will die and that in fact it’s too late to get there in time. He has a dilemma – does he drop what he is doing and immediately go to Bethany as soon as he can, so that he can comfort the sisters and shorten their grief, or wait and make the miracle he knows he will perform an unmistakable raising of the dead.

Meanwhile, the disciples, are understandably fearful. The last time Jesus was in Judea, the authorities tried to stone him. He’s going back into the lion’s den. It will, in fact, be the beginning of the end.

He waits two days and then goes.

We are left in the uncomfortable place of knowing that Jesus is doing the right thing, but really wishing that he would act right now. We don’t want to wait. When we are grieving, we want comfort. We don’t want to work through the anger and the sadness, the loss of the future we had planned. We want the pain to stop. Now.

We know in our heads that death is not the end. But, for a while, it really feels like it is.

Secondly, we have the encounters. By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been dead four days.

Martha, the sister who can’t sit still, comes out to meet him. She says what everyone is thinking, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

But even though he delayed, she trusts him. She has faith that somehow, he can put things right. Jesus speaks to her of resurrection – she cannot quite believe what will happen. She recites the doctrine she has been taught. Yes, there will be a resurrection on the last day.

And then Jesus says to her: “I am the resurrection and the life.” Not just something that will happen one day, but a fullness of life here and now.

Martha is a thinker. She meets Jesus with faith seeking understanding. And she responds with one of the clearest statements in the gospel about who he is.

But not everyone processes their grief that way. Jesus asks Martha to bring Mary to him, and Mary says exactly the same words. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died”. But she doesn’t stand and talk, she falls at his feet in tears. The people round about her are weeping, too. And Jesus weeps with them. He knows what he is about to do. He knows Lazarus will walk out of the tomb that very day. And still, he weeps. John tells us that he is deeply disturbed, using a Greek word that implies he is troubled – even angry. He is not just the Son of God, he is a real human being, who weeps and feels anger in solidarity with us.  Why does it have to be that way? Why must there be pain and suffering?

“Jesus wept.” Is the shortest verse in the Bible. And it’s one of the most profoundly comforting. Because it tells us that in our grief God is right there, weeping in solidarity.

Finally, the summons. At last Jesus comes to the tomb. He instructs them “Take away the stone”. But it is four days since Lazarus died, Martha, ever the practical one, warns Jesus about the smell. And yet, those present bowed to his authority and opened the tomb. Jesus commands Lazarus, “Come out”. Like a sheep hearing his shepherd’s voice, he obeys, though his hands and feet and face all still bound with the strips of cloth. Jesus tells those around him “Loose, him and let him go”.

Lazarus is alive, but he is not yet free.

And now the story becomes our story. When Christ calls us to new life, he doesn’t do everything for us. He forgives us and accepts us, yet there are still the things which bind us. The patterns of behaviour we struggle to change, the burdens we carry, old wounds that haunt us. We still have a lifetime of work ahead of us, but we are not alone. There are others there to help unbind us and set us free, if only we will let them.

Reactions were divided. Many people believed in Jesus. But others report what has happened to the authorities, who, from that day on begin to plan Jesus’ death.

The final miracle has revealed who Jesus is, but it has also set him on the path to the cross. Confrontation is inevitable. We turn with Jesus towards Jerusalem, to Holy Week and to the cross, where the one who weeps with us will suffer for us, and where by dying he will defeat death.

To sum up:

We may feel that Jesus is slow to come, but in his time, we will know his presence. He engages with our minds, and he also shares our tears. And he calls us by name, from death to life.

The question is, what is it that still binds you? And who might help release you from the grave clothes? Because he who called Lazarus from the tomb is calling each of us to new life today.