Two to four and seven to nine

When I visited my grandparents as a child they would always tune into the local radio station at noon to hear In Memoriam, the listing of recent deaths and upcoming funerals that the station included in their mid-day programming.

Funeral traditions in that time and place were pretty standardized. There was a template that almost everyone followed. I get the impression that’s no longer the case and that the things we did were more regional than we thought. A funeral was largely a public event not limited to close friends or family members. The death announcements were there so that everyone who knew the deceased or any of their family could participate. For the public, the first stage was a visitation. Usually held at a funeral home from two to four and seven to nine on a weekday shortly after the death, this event involves the close family of the deceased standing next to the coffin while other community members file through to pay their respects and offer their condolences.

The funeral would be the next day or perhaps a couple of days later, often in a church and nearly always open to the public. If someone young or well liked died they might need to find a bigger venue. Afterwards the hearse and family would form a procession to the cemetery for a shorter interment ceremony. There was all kinds of etiquette around funeral processions. They drove without lights or signals and other traffic was generally expected to pull over to allow the procession to pass. Afterwards, tea and cookies, or perhaps lunch.

The funeral traditions of Bethany in the second temple period are different from these and we only see a narrow glimpse of them here. There’s a tomb closed with a stone, a corpse wrapped in specialized grave clothes and a whole crowd of community members still around to marvel at what they are about to see and carry stories back to the centre of power.

I’ve heard at least one sermon suggesting that Jesus delayed to ensure that Lazarus would be dead when he arrived and enable this whole miracle. The math doesn’t math on that idea. The text here says that Jesus waited two days before setting off for Bethany, but also that Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days. Even if he had set out immediately, he would not have arrived in time and a several day long journey is not something that can be undertaken without preparation.

He’s not too late, not really. Not by the understanding of the time. He got a message and come as quickly as he could, arriving in time to comfort his friends during the first terrible week after their brother’s death.

When Lazarus’s sister chides him for not having been there I think it’s as much about the fact that he left at all. If he had been in Jerusalem he could have gotten a message and been at his friend’s bedside within a day or two. Why wasn’t he there? Why did he have to go so far?

There was the whole matter of the people who tried to stone him in the last chapter forcing him to relocate for his own safety. If he could just get along, keep his head down, not rock the boat, then he could have the kind of normal life where he could be there for his friends when they need him. Jesus isn’t just calling people to leave their homes and families to follow him. He’s living it and in this story he feels that cost and weeps.

Little white house with earthquake damage Psalm 130:3

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.

John 11:32-33 Full Text John 11:1-45

Blind

One of the difficulties in this passage is that blindness is being used both as a physical condition and as a metaphor for an unwillingness to notice or understand.

The physical disability, the text makes clear, has no moral implications. It is not sinful to be blind nor is it punishment for sin, not your sin and not the sins of your family or community either. It’s tempting to think that looking for someone to blame is an old-fashioned superstition, but the just world fallacy runs deep. When illness, disability, and tragic death are realities of life, we want to be able to blame someone. They were a smoker/ate too many seed oils/ate too much saturated fat/were vaccinated/were unvaccinated/wore dark colors/had brightly coloured hair/drank too much coffee/didn’t drink enough coffee. Because if it’s their fault then it won’t happen to us.

Modern science tells us that sometimes there are reasons. Sort of. Our actions and lifestyles can adjust some of the probabilities of ill-health. Though it’s rarely as clear a connection as people would like. Sometimes it’s still just something that happens. No blame. No reason.

The idea that something bad might happen without anyone to blame is vastly unsettling. Not just in some imagined superstitious past, but also here and now. The religious leaders in this week’s passage do a lot of work to assign blame at least in part because that preserves their comfort. We are not immune to blaming people for their own misfortune or ill-health.

In the text, the while thing is complicated by a debate about the miracle and who Christ is. The question of who is to blame for this man’s disability is all tied up in political positions. That sounds even more familiar.

Small house threatened by a dust storm

To this they replied, “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” And they threw him out.

John 9:34 Full Text John 9

Noon

The text this week is careful to specify that it’s noon. That could mean be for several reasons.

Maybe it’s just context setting, part of the excuse for Jesus to sit here by a well waiting for his disciples to return with a midday meal, tired and thirsty from the morning’s activity, but I think there’s something more here for us to notice.

The world that Jesus inhabits is a harsh one compared to most of 21st century North America. In my house, we have running water. Carefully cleaned and sent through pipes to arrive in my kitchen or my bathroom exactly when I need it, hot or cold, for washing or cooking, in vast quantities. But of course none of that is available in the place where Jesus walks. Here water needed to be drawn up by hand from a well and carried, potentially long distances, to where it was needed.

Noon is a terrible time of day to arrive at the well.

It’s OK for a traveling preacher who has, perhaps, been walking all morning and is looking for a convenient place to rest, eat, and regroup to journey onward or find accommodations for the night. But residents who use the well regularly would surely prefer to visit the well as early in the morning as possible especially if coming from any distance. The cooler part of the day is better for doing heavy work like carrying water and that leaves time in the day for other tasks, ones that require water. Perhaps this woman, arriving so late, lives so far from any source of water that it takes hours to travel there every day. The search for the most basic necessity of life could be taking up nearly her entire day leaving no time for anything else. Or perhaps she has experienced some kind of calamity this morning, an emergency that has forced her to put off this vital task, or perhaps a broken water jug necessitating a second trip. She could also have done this on purpose, putting off the trip to the well until a time when she would not see too many of her neighbours there. Or maybe she just overslept.

In any case, her very presence at the well at noon could indicate something about her. She’s struggling here.

The detail about the husbands should make that even more clear. Five husbands, and now living with a man who will not commit to her as a wife. This is a marginalized woman, low on the social and economic ladders of her community, doing what she has to in order to scrape out a living. Barely.

Thinking in an entirely different direction, the reference to the time of day here reminds me of what we saw last week — Nicodemus, the respected Jewish religious leader comes in secret at night. In the next chapter, this woman — a Samaritan, nameless and marginalized — speaks to Jesus in an extremely public place at noon.

These people and contexts are entirely opposite from each other, but Jesus interacts with both of them on essentially the same level, speaking in metaphor of spiritual ideas. It’s the Samaritan woman who understands where the Jewish leader did not. Though to be fair, abundant convenient water is a lot more appealing than the mess and difficulty of rebirth.

Lava flow threatening a white house. Psalm 95:4

Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon.

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

John 4:6-8 Full Text John 4:5-42

First

John 3:16 is very often the first verse we ask children to memorize. The very first summary of the Good News that we teach kids. With adult eyes it can feel kind of trite and simplistic. I have a hard time seeing around that.

Teaching this as a summary of the entire Gospel can mean that it gets hung with all kinds of baggage. Everything we think Christianity is gets stuffed into this single verse. Like the idea that this this image of a loving God is distinct to Christianity. The idea of God loving the world isn’t something that Nicodemus would find shocking. He’s confused by the idea of rebirth, but there’s no recorded objection to this set of ideas.

I can’t help but feel that the expected response to this verse is too small. We teach this verse to children and expect them to be cheerful and helpful in their families, churches, and schools. We expect them to grow into adults who get a job and pay taxes and go to church and marry and buy a house and raise a couple of kids and teach them this verse. But surely believing that Christ was sent out of God’s great love for the entire world should result in some larger action. Especially when there’s so much injustice in the world, so much violence and hatred.

Small house on a bluff threatened by coastal erosion

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.

John 3:16-17 Full Text John 3:1-17