ON THE THIRD DAY
1. The Mount of Olives, familiar to most Christians as the starting point for Jesus’ jubilant procession into Jerusalem, its Garden of Gethsemane, and later his ascension to the right hand of God, proves to be the dramatic setting for still another miraculous event in salvation history. Lazarus, a friend of Jesus, becomes ill at his home in Bethany, a village situated on the east slope of the Mount of Olives (about two miles distant from Jerusalem).
2. His sisters Mary and Martha send an intimate, revealing, yet discreet message to Jesus who is some distance away: "Lord, he whom you love is ill." [Jn 11:3] Their words, spare and eloquent, witness their belief in Jesus' lordship and express feelings of tenderness and worry. For his part, Jesus mysteriously chooses to linger beyond the region of Judea, thereby giving full reign to the finality of Lazarus’ death. On the third day, approaching his decisive rendezvous at the cave in which his dear friend is interred, Jesus becomes deeply emotional.
PICTURE OF HEALTH
3. A number of years ago, late summer, I stood inside a small and complex ecosystem. I felt its cool atmosphere to be heavy and solemn. Not entirely quiet, the little grotto echoed with curious noises--the sound of sighing and varied little chirps. Intrusive voices disturbed its peace, however, which seemed to me disrespectful.
4. The cave was a small room in the intensive care unit of a nationally known cancer center. The sighing came from a mechanical respirator, the chirping noises were beeps from a heart monitor and other equipment. These things sustained a dear friend and fellow seminarian on life-support. He was only 32 years old. His name was Jim. Only a few days earlier, he was the picture of health. A devastating leukemia cut him down within the span of one week, a brain hemorrhage the cause of death.
UNINTERRUPTED CRY
5. I went straight to the hospital from the airport. I talked to Jim by phone from Toronto scarcely two days before, but I did not know what to expect. Lying there in his bed, he seemed to be resting. I could not grasp that he was clinically dead, that he would never open his eyes, or smile or get up again. My eyes saw what I wanted to see. What the nurses told me I did not want to hear. All I could trust was my faith in God. I asked God for more. I prayed to God saying, The victory is yours, help me to see with eyes of faith.
6. I prayed in vigil at Jim’s bedside throughout the night. (His family chose not to stay for reasons I will never understand.) I was there in the morning when the medical staff disconnected his life support. The sighing of the respirator stopped. The rhythmic up-and-down movement of Jim’s chest ceased. The color of his complexion darkened immediately. The chirping of the monitor went on a dreadfully long time, going slower and slower until the alarm sounded in one long uninterrupted cry.