Today, the fifth Sunday of Lent, we will read the well-known account of the resurrection of Lazarus. It is a passage in which something quite singular takes place: in it we find two faces—two different dimensions—of Jesus. Both of them can help us to live the current situation, the Covi19 pandemic, with faith and hope.
On the one hand, we see Jesus who fully trusts his Father, who does not flinch, who does not collapse in the face of adversity, in the face of the loss of his dear friend: it is the Jesus who says to his disciples: «This sickness is for God’s Glory», and the one who later says to Martha: «If you believe, you will see the Glory of God». This Jesus assures us that the most painful situations, those when we experience death, can also be occasions when the tenderness of God may shine.
On the other hand, we see Jesus moved, crying over the death of the friend, an image to which we are not at all accustomed. It is an even more shocking image, in fact, since we find it in the John’s Gospel, the one that usually presents a more imperturbable Jesus; more in control of everything, more divine (and, sometimes, less human) than the one portrayed in the synoptic Gospels.
The first face of Jesus is today more necessary than ever: it assures us that every painful situation, even the current pandemic, is an occasion for the tenderness of God to be manifested. It is a dimension of Jesus that invites us to ask ourselves: and how can I help so that this global crisis may also be an occasion for the tenderness of God to shine? We know how: practicing a «plus» of solidarity, showing our closeness to those who are hurting the worst, with calls, with messages, praying for them and those who care for them, collaborating from home in everything possible (knitting masks , donating so that there is no lack of sanitary material, or food, in the most vulnerable sectors and countries).
And what about the second face of Jesus? This Jesus who cries, so human, for the death of the friend, is an image that today can be —paradoxically— quite comforting: it shows us that we have a God who shares our pain, who does not turn his back on us, who understands what it means to mourn the loss of a loved one, a God who has experienced exactly what thousands of people around the world are experiencing today. It is, of course, an invitation to unite ourselves—at least in prayer—with all those who suffer, like Martha and Maria, the loss of loved ones.
This, of course, is also the story of dying and raising from the death. It seems to me that it contains yet another message for us, in the current situation. Beyond the physical death of people due to Covid19, which is, of course, the greatest drama of this crisis, in these weeks many people are experiencing other types of «deaths»: our routines, our customs, our habits, our normal rhythms of life have all died. Everything has been radically changed by the pandemic. How do we want to resurrect from this? Even now, when in many countries the end of the crisis is not yet in sight, when in many others it is only just beginning, it is good that we begin already to think about how we want to get out of it. How do we want to «come out of the sepulcher» in which now we are, so to speak, buried? What things do we want to leave there? How do we envision the pandemic making us better?
Maybe we should think about «coming back to life», at the end of this crisis, more concerned about people and less about things? Or more focused on God and others, less than on ourselves? Or more concerned with the essentials of life (friendship, health, affection), and less concerned with countless issues than now, suddenly, we have seen they were not as fundamental or important as we thought they were just a few weeks ago?
