Jesus steps out of public.

John 11.54-57.

After raising Lazarus from the dead, after the Judean senate and head priest decided maybe Jesus oughta die to keep the Romans pacified, Jesus decided maybe he ought not be where the Judeans could easily grab him.

John 11.54-57 KWL

54So Jesus is no longer walking boldly among the Judeans,

but is leaving from there to a region near the wilderness,

to a city called Efrém.

He’s staying there with the students.

55It’s getting near the Judean Passover,

and many are leaving their land

to Jerusalem for Passover

so they might purify themselves.

56So those who are seeking Jesus

are also saying to one another

as they stood in the temple,

“What do you² think?

Might he choose to not come to the feast?”

57The head priests and Pharisees gave a command,

that when anyone knows where Jesus is,

they should make it known,

so they might arrest him.

“Purify themselves” in verse 55 refers to the people who’d traveled to Jerusalem from far away, and because there was no way of traveling long distances without becoming ritually unclean, they gave themselves an extra week to get ritually clean. So, lots of washing and baptizing. As soon as all the local pools are full of dusty diaspora Jews, you know Passover’s coming.

When I taught on this passage previously, one of the kids in the study said, “What’re they arresting him for, raising Lazarus? Was raising the dead illegal?” I had to remind him ancient Judea didn’t have any Fourth Amendment; only a command against kidnapping, Ex 21.16 which supposedly they weren’t doing because they were immediately gonna try him, condemn him, then have the Romans kill him.

And they expected to have him in their clutches fairly soon, since Jesus had to come to Jerusalem for Passover, because the Law said every adult male had to come to temple for Passover. Dt 16.6 Add to that they “gave a command” that if anyone knew where Jesus was, they had to tell them.

The Judean leaders plot to kill Jesus.

John 11.45-53.

In the other gospels, we read of Jesus annoying the Pharisees of his community to the point they start conspiring with the Herodians to kill him. Mk 3.6 But that’s in Herod Antipas’s province; that’s in the Galilee. Judea’s a whole different province.

In Jesus’s day, in the 30s CE, Judea was run directly by Rome, who sent a procurator—at this point in time, the prefect Pontius Pilate—to keep the peace, and make sure the Romans got their taxes. But day-to-day stuff was handled by Judean nobles, who mimicked the Roman senate by creating their own senate. They called it a συνέδριον/synédrion (Syriac ܣܢܗܕܪܝܢ/sanhedrín), “sit-together, council,” and people get the idea this was a legislative or judicial body. It really wasn’t either of them: It was an oligarchy, same as the Roman senate. These were the noble families, the rich families, the “important” people of the province, presided over by the temple’s head priest. (Until the Romans took over, the head priest was also the king of Judea; now he was just appointed by the procurator.) Bound by the Law of Moses—although they certainly bent it every which way—but yeah, they ruled the province wherever the Romans didn’t.

And Jesus’s raising of Lazarus threw ’em into a panic.

John 11.45-48 KWL

45So, many of the Judeans coming to mourn with Mary,

upon seeing what Jesus does,

believe in him.

46Some of them go off to the Pharisees

and tell them what Jesus does.

47So, the head priests and Pharisees gather in the senate

and say, “This person does many miracles.

48When we leave Jesusᴾ free to do so,

everyone will believe in him,

and the Romans will come,

will take us away,

plus the land and the nation.”

Well that escalated quickly: “If everyone believes in him, the Romans will destroy us!”

As I said, the senate consisted of all the important people in the province. Many of ’em were Pharisees, and Pharisees had a whole End Times Timeline which told of a Messiah coming to overthrow the Romans. Of course if you don’t believe Jesus is that Messiah—and they didn’t, ’cause Jesus didn’t act at all like they wanted—it means his overzealous followers might try to overthrow the Romans anyway, and you wind up… well, with what actually happened in the year 70. This fear the senators articulated in the last three lines of verse 48? Spot on.

The head priest, Joseph Caiaphas, then stepped in and shrewdly said no, things don’t have to be that way.

John 11.49-50 KWL

49A certain one of them, Joseph Caiaphas,

being head priest that term,

tells them, “You² don’t know anything,

50nor do you² consider this:

It is better for you² that one person might die for the people,

and the whole nation might not be destroyed.”

If it sounds a little bit like a mafia don trying to quiet the agitated members of the other crime families by saying this could easily be solved by whacking the troublemaker… well yes it does. Oligarchs are oligarchs, you see.

Raising Lazarus.

John 11.38-44.

At the time Jesus raised Lazarus of Bethany from the dead, he had raised people from the dead before: His synagogue president’s daughter, and some unnamed widow’s son. Raising the girl had happened privately, but raising the boy was right out there in public. So this wasn’t a new miracle… except Lazarus had been in the ground four days. The others might’ve been just dead or recently dead, but Lazarus was dead-dead.

That, and the other raisings had happened in the Galilee. But now they were down south in Judea, a few kilometers from Jerusalem. A number of Jerusalemites were there to grieve with Lazarus’s sisters. From their point of view, the stories about Jesus raising the dead were just that—stories. Raising kids who probably weren’t quite dead, and after the story passed through a number of gossips it got exaggerated into him raising the dead. Myths.

Whether they believed those stories or not, here they saw Jesus do the impossible for themselves.

John 11.38-44 KWL

38So Jesus—again, outraged within himself—

goes to the sepulcher,

which is a cave,

and a rock is lying against it.

39Jesus says, “Take the rock away.”

Martha, the sister of the dead man, tells him, “Sir,

he stinks by now,

for it’s the fourth day.”

40Jesus tells Martha,ᴾ “Didn’t I tell you¹

that when you¹ trust me,

you’ll¹ see God’s glory?”

41So they take away the rock

{which is at the place the dead lay},

and Jesus lifts up his eyes to the sky and says,

“Father, I give you¹ thanks that you¹ hear me.

42I knew you¹ always hear me,

but I say this because of the crowd around,

so they might believe you¹ send me.”

43This said, Jesus shouts in a loud voice:

“Lazarus! Come out!”

44The dead man comes out—

his feet and hands bound in linen strips,

and his face wrapped in a sudra.

Jesus tells them, “Loose him

and let him go.”

I kinda got into why Jesus was outraged in the previous passage: His empathy meant he felt the crowd’s anger, and you see some of that anger come out in the previous verse, “Wasn’t this Jesus, who opened the eyes of the blind man, able to do something so that this Lazarus might not die?” Jn 11.37 KWL They were frustrated with him, and he felt some of that frustration.

But now was not the time to vent at their lack of faith; it was time to get Lazarus out of that sepulcher and return him to his family. So for their sake, he prayed the “Lazarus prayer,” in which he reminded them his Father hears him; then ordered Lazarus to come out. Because Lazarus was alive already.

Jesus weeps for Lazarus.

John 11.28-37.

One of the answers to the popular trivia question, “What’s the shortest verse in the bible?” is found in today’s passage. The shortest verse in the King James Version is the 9-letter “Jesus wept,” Jn 11.35 which I translate “Jesus weeps”—one letter longer—because aorist verbs aren’t always past tense.

Thing is, in the original texts, the 16-letter sentence ἐδάκρυσεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς/edákrusen o Yisús, is not the shortest verse. That’d be the 9-letter עֵ֥בֶר פֶּ֖לֶג רְעֽוּ/Evér, Pelég, Rev in 1 Chronicles 1.25; three of Abraham’s ancestors. And in the New Testament it’d be the 12-letter καὶ ὁ δεύτερος/ke o dévteros, “and the second.” Lk 20.30 Thing is, the Textus Receptus added seven words to this verse, so it’s not all that short in that particular NT. But there’s still a verse in the NT shorter than edákrusen o Yisús, and it’s the 14-letter πάντοτε χαίρετε/pántote hérete, “rejoice always.” 1Th 5.16

Enough bible trivia. Everybody remembers Jesus wept, but now let’s get to why. Because it tends to dumbfound people. Why’s he crying? Why’s he mourning the death of Lazarus? Didn’t he go to Bethany specifically to “awaken” Lazarus from the dead? Jn 11.11 Why’s he grieving a death that he’s about to undo within the next 15 minutes?

I’ve got a ridiculously simple answer to that question, and it’d occur to you immediately if you share that trait. Unfortunately too many Christians don’t, don’t care to cultivate it, and even consider it an undesirable weakness. And it’s not; it’s a fruit of the Spirit. It’s empathy, the knowledge of what others are feeling—and feeling it too. The people were mourning—and kinda angry because they felt Jesus could’ve prevented Lazarus’s death. So Jesus was mourning—and, believe it or not, also kinda angry.

It’s all right there in the text:

John 11.28-37 KWL

28Martha, after saying this,

goes and secretly calls her sister Mary,

saying, “The Teacher is here and calls for you.¹”

29When she hears this,

this Maryᴾ quickly rises up

and is going to Jesus.ᴾ

30Jesus hadn’t yet come into the village,

but is still in the place where Martha met him.

31So the Judeans who are with Maryᴾ in the house,

comforting her,

seeing how Mary quickly rises up and goes out,

follow her,

thinking she goes out to the sepulcher

so she might weep there.

32So when Mary comes to where Jesus is,

on seeing him, she falls to his feet,

telling him, “Master, if you¹ were here,

my brother would never have died.”

33So when Jesus sees Maryᴾ weeping,

and those Judeans who came with her weeping,

he’s outraged in spirit

and stirred up within himself.

34Jesus says, “Where did you² put Lazarus?ᴾ”

They tell him, “Master, come and see.”

35Jesus weeps,

36so the Judeans are saying,

“Look how he loves Lazarus.ᴾ”

37And some say back to them, “Wasn’t this Jesus,ᴾ

who opened the eyes of the blind man,

able to do something

so that this Lazarusᴾ might not die?”

As it says in verse 33, when Jesus sees Mary and the crowd, he ἐνεβριμήσατο/enevrimísato, “snorts with anger.” The KJV has “groaned”; the translators skipped why he groaned, but they knew from their Latin bibles it was because Jesus fremuit spiritu, “raged in spirit.”

Why was Jesus angry? Like I said, empathy: The crowd of Judeans wanted to know why Jesus could cure the blind, but couldn’t’ve cured Lazarus. Jn 11.37 So, some of them were frustrated with him. And Jesus felt that, in his spirit. Not in his guts, which is where the ancients believed emotion came from; he spiritually knew there was anger in the crowd. They wanted to know why he hadn’t done anything. They expected he’d better do something now.

As for why he wept: Mary was weeping. So he wept with her. Because Jesus isn’t a compassionless, unfeeling dick. He’s a human being with the very same emotions we have, but he’s in full control of them and doesn’t use them as an excuse to sin. He rejoices with us; he mourns with us. And because he’s our example, we should do likewise.

Jesus’s Lazarus prayer.

John 11.41-42.

I’m going through the Lazarus story, and just before Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, he prays. It’s an odd little prayer, and from it we can learn a bit about both Jesus and prayer. Goes like so.

John 11.41-42 KWL

41So they take away the rock

{which is at the place the dead lay},

and Jesus lifts up his eyes to the sky and says,

“Father, I give you¹ thanks that you¹ hear me.

42I knew you¹ always hear me,

but I say this because of the crowd around,

so they might believe you¹ send me.”

It’s odd because y’notice Jesus doesn’t make a prayer request. Usually when a Christian’s about to try to cure someone, or even raise the dead, they ask the Holy Spirit, “Can I do this? Can you make me able to do this? Would you cure this person? Is this your will that they be cured? Please do this.” There’s a whole lot of requesting going on. Some begging. Sometimes even some deal-making.

And Jesus does none of that. It’s only, “Thank you, Father, for hearing me. Yeah, I know you already hear me; I’m just saying this for their sake.” Gotta be honest! But in this prayer, he doesn’t ask the Father for anything. It’s solely acknowledgement the Father is here with Jesus—and the Father sent Jesus.

And then Jesus raised Lazarus.

Why doesn’t Jesus beg the Father to empower him to pull off this miracle? Because he doesn’t need to. We already know from other scriptures Jesus prayed a lot. He was all prayed up. When he tells his students elsewhere, right after he threw an evil spirit out of a boy, “This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer and fasting,” Mk 9.29 you notice Jesus couldn’t just start fasting right then; he had to already have a lifestyle of fasting. Same with the prayer: Jesus could start praying his head off right at that moment, but what good is that when you don’t already have a conversational relationship with your Father? And Jesus undoubtedly had that already.

So when it came time to cure Lazarus of death, Jesus didn’t need to stand before the sepulcher, lift his hands to heaven, pray for three hours, and maybe Lazarus might come forth. Jesus spent his entire life patterning every action after the Father’s will. Today was no different. And Jesus spent his entire life praying, almost constantly, often intensely, to his Father. He’d been all prayed up since childhood.

If we’re all prayed up, and we step into a situation where someone needs to be cured of illness, we don’t need to drop to our knees and beg God for hours to grant our request. We’ve already been talking to him. We already know what he wants us to do. We already know whether he’ll empower us to cure this illness or not—and if not, we don’t give the poor person false hope that God’ll cure them immediately. We just remind ’em to keep praying, like the widow in Jesus’s Persistent Widow Story.

But if so, we don’t need to pray any more than Jesus did in this situation: “Hey, Father? Thank you so much for hearing me. You always do.” Then, “In Jesus’s name, I order this illness to go away.” And it will.

Jesus is resurrection and life.

John 11.17-27.

Lazarus’s sisters Martha and Mary come up elsewhere in the gospels. It’s in a story where Mary sits at Jesus’s feet during a lesson, which was not appropriate for women in their sexist culture, and Martha tells Jesus to shoo her away and make Mary help her. But Jesus tells Martha to leave her be; that’s exactly where Mary belongs. Lk 10.38-42 As a result Christians have preached many a sermon where Martha’s the bad example, and Mary’s the good.

Although they don’t always realize why Mary’s the good. Often these sermons only talk about Mary worshiping at Jesus’s feet—as if Mary was only fangirling over Jesus while he was at the serious business of training apostles. That’s not how rabbinic lessons worked. The rabbi makes a statement; the students challenge the statement based on their bible knowledge; the rabbi defends his statement based on his bible knowledge. Those at the rabbi’s feet actively participated in this. Meaning Mary was challenging Jesus, quoting bible, and showing an intellectual capacity that impressed Jesus so much he wanted her there. Valued her there.

Generally the lessons go: Martha frets about so many things which are ultimately irrelevant, but Mary sits at Jesus’s feet. Let’s all be like Mary. Martha bad, Mary good. But no, Martha wasn’t bad—she just didn’t realize she likewise had the right to sit at the Lord’s feet, same as Mary, and learn from Jesus, instead of doing busywork like her culture expected her to.

Anyway, by the time Lazarus died, Martha apparently had learned from Jesus, ’cause she makes some of the more profound faith statements in the bible. Her faith didn’t go heave-ho after her brother died, like we see in so many people; it was strong as ever. When she met with Jesus, she didn’t scream at him about not being there to save Lazarus, as some of the lousier Jesus movies depict her. She still trusts him. She knows the Father listens to him; she still believes he can do something. She still calls him Christ, God’s son.

John 11.17-27 KWL

17So, on arriving, Jesus finds Lazarusᴾ

is already four days in the sepulcher.

18Bethany is near Jerusalem;

like 15 stadia. [2⅓ km]

19Many of the Judeans came to Martha and Mary

so they might comfort them about their brother.

20So Martha, once she hears Jesus arrives, meets him.

Mary is sitting in the house.

21So Martha says to Jesus, “Master, if you¹ were here,

my brother never would have died.

22{But} I now know whatever you¹ ask God,

God will give you.¹”

23Jesus tells her, “Your brother will rise again.”

24Martha tells him, “I know he’ll rise—

in the resurrection, on the last day.”

25Jesus tells her, “I’m the resurrection.

I’m life.

One who trusts in me, if they¹ die, will live.

26And everyone who lives and trusts in me

ought never, ever die in the age to come.

Do you¹ believe this?”

27Marthaᴾ tells him, “Yes, Master.

I’ve believed you’re¹ the Christ,

God’s son coming into the world.”

Other Christians despair at their great losses, yet Martha still totally trusts Jesus. That’s huge. Let’s all be like Martha.

The Twelve Hours Story.

John 11.9-10.

All my life, whenever I’ve heard people teach about Jesus’s parables, they tend to note, “But there are no parables in John.” Which is rubbish; Jesus uses a number of parables in John. In fact I would argue it’s because of this false belief in John’s lack of parables, the parables which are totally in that gospel get skimmed over—“Well that’s not a parable; that’s just something Jesus said by way of teaching.” No dum-dum, it’s an analogy describing God’s kingdom which you’re meant to figure out, so it’s clearly a parable. And you’re acting like one of those people with plugged ears and closed minds.

Take fr’instance Jesus’s Twelve Hour Story. It’s rare you’ll find a biblical commentary which treats it like the parable it is, and instead treats it as some strange, hard-to-understand thing Jesus says in the middle of the Raising Lazarus Story. It’s only hard to understand if you’re not even trying to understand it. Here’s the thing he said:

John 11.9-10 KWL

9Jesus answers, “Aren’t there 12 hours in the day?

When someone walks in the day, they¹ don’t stumble.

For this person sees the world’s light.

10When someone walks in the night, they¹ stumble.

For the light isn’t in them.¹”

By now Christians oughta know who the world’s light is: Jesus. Do you remember what was happening when Jesus said “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world”? Jn 9.5 It was right before he cured a man born blind. It wasn’t just a metaphor to remind his students he can cure those whose only experience is living in the dark. The king of God’s kingdom personally exemplifies what we’re meant to do to bring hope, healing, and truth into a world which’d much rather stay in the dark because their deeds are evil. Jn 3.19-21

All Jesus’s parables describe God’s kingdom, and this saying obviously describes it too: When we walk in the day, we walk in the light; we don’t stumble. When we walk in the night, we’re not in the light, so of course we stumble. Stay in the light!

When Lazarus dies.

John 11.1-8, 11-16.

Most of Jesus’s miracle stories are short, but the story of raising his friend Lazarus of Bethany takes up most of John 11. Mostly because this is a whole new experience for Jesus’s students. He’d raised the dead before, but these were people who had just died. One could argue, like Miracle Max in The Princess Bride, those people were mostly dead, not fully dead; Jesus got to them just in time to resuscitate them. Whereas in Lazarus’s case, dude had been dead four days. Wrapped in suffocating strips of linen. Left in a sepulcher to rot. He was super dead. Jesus raised him anyway.

But the story starts with Lazarus alive:

John 11.1-8 KWL

1Someone is unwell—Lazarus of Bethany,

from the village of Mary, and Martha her sister.

2Mary is she who anointed the Master with ointment,

who wiped his feet with her hair.

Her brother Lazarus is unwell.

3So Lazarus’sᴾ sisters send for Jesus,ᴾ

saying, “Master, look!

He whom you¹ love is unwell.”

4Hearing, Jesus says, “This illness doesn’t end in death,

but in God’s glory,

so God’s son might be glorified by it.”

5Jesus loves Martha,

her sister, and Lazarus.

6So when he hears Lazarusᴾ is unwell,

he then stays two more days in the place he is.

7Afterwards, Jesusᴾ then tells his students,

“We should go to Judea again.”

8The students tell Jesus,ᴾ “Rabbi,

the Judeans are now looking for you¹ to lynch you,

and you’re¹ going there again?”

The Greek text has λιθάσαι/litháse, “throw stones [at you],” but because stoning was illegal under Roman law, the students aren’t talking about the Judean leadership having Jesus executed by stoning; they’re worried about a Judean mob murdering him. So, “lynch.”

Jesus responds with the Twelve Hours Story, which tends to go over Christians’ heads entirely. So much so, we seldom list it among Jesus’s parables, and seldom teach on it. It deserves its own article, so I’ll discuss it elsewhere. But right after the story:

John 11.11-16 KWL

11Jesusᴾ says these things,

and after them he tells his students,

“Lazarus our friend slept.

But I go so I might awaken him.”

12So the students tell Jesus,ᴾ “Master,

if he slept, he will recover.”

13Jesus had spoken about Lazarus’sᴾ death,

and the students had thought

he speaks about sleep and slumber.

14So then Jesus tells them bluntly,

“Lazarus died.

15I rejoice for you,²

for you² can believe because I am not there.

But we should go to him.”

16So Thomas, called Didymus, told his fellow students,

“We should go, so we can die with him.”

Little pessimistic of Thomas, who’s likely still thinking about that lynch mob. But yeah, off they go to Judea, and by the time they get there Lazarus has been dead four days already. Jn 11.17

God doesn’t have a dark side.

1 John 1.5-7.

The thing about gnostics is they’ve always prioritized weirdness over Jesus. After all if these were commonsense teachings we could learn from the bible, be guided into by the Holy Spirit, or figure out on our own, we wouldn’t need to pay the gnostics a fistfull of money for their secrets. We wouldn’t need to buy their videos, attend their seminars, or pay tuition to their unaccredited universities.

Well, some of the gnostic ideas have leaked into Christendom. Some of them were affecting the first-century church. Hence the apostle John’s first letter, correcting his church. Something we still gotta read, because loads of these ideas are still around—either held over from the first century, or new gnostics came up with them independently. Still misinforming Christians.

Some of ’em are outright heresy. Others aren’t technically heresy… because heresy is defined by the creeds, and for whatever reason the creeds didn’t get to that particular error. Often because the ancient Christians figured, “Well of course that’s wrong; haven’t you read a bible?” But, then as now, people don’t read. (So read your bible!) Their favorite teachers did all the reading for them, and they blindly followed these teachers without double-checking any of their proof texts. It’s how gnostics have always got away with it.

And one of the more popular errors, still commonly believed, is about God having a dark side.

It’s based on determinism—the belief God is so sovereign, he controls absolutely everything in the cosmos. God’s the “unmoved mover” of Aristotle of Athens, the first cause of everything, and nothing in the universe happens without his permission. Really, determinists insist, if he isn’t wielding total control of everything, we can’t legitimately call him almighty.

But if God’s in charge, what about sin? Why is evil, chaos, and death part of our universe when God’s pulling every single string of our cosmic puppet show?

If you’re not a determinist—and I’m not, and neither is St. John—there’s a really simple answer: He’s not pulling every single string of the show. He’s not so inept a creator that he built the universe, yet constantly has to fiddle with it lest it go awry. Imagine a clockmaker who, instead of building a clockwork that effectively keeps time, always moves the arms himself. It’d make him the worst clockmaker. Likewise a micromanagerial creator would be an incompetent creator, not a masterful one.

So when creation goes wrong, God’s not at fault. He made it profoundly good, Ge 1.31 but he granted his creation free will. It can legitimately make its own decisions—and choose to do either what God told it to, or its own thing. That’s the cause of evil, chaos, and death. Not God.

Determinists insist no, God’d never cede control of his domain like that. (Certainly they never would, were they God.) And since he doesn’t stop or mitigate the evil (again, not like they would, were they God) he must’ve determined this evil, chaos, and death oughta happen. He wants it to. It’s not the fallout from our bad choices; it’s part of the plan. A plan full of evil, chaos, and death—so much so it’s really an evil plan—but it’ll all turn out in the long run. It’s just in the short run, God sovereignly decrees evil, chaos, and death.

You’ve seen this in sitcoms and superhero movies, like The Incredibles: Somebody wants to look like a hero, so he creates a disaster, fully intending to “solve” the problem himself so everybody can laud him as a hero. This is exactly the same way determinists describe God. He’s gonna solve all the evil in the world, and as a result receive all the glory. But wait… didn’t he create the problem in the first place?

And y’notice in the sitcoms and superhero movies, the mastermind gets exposed as creating the crisis in the first place. And universally denounced as a fraud. ’Cause he totally is. Yet for some reason, determinists think it’s way different with God: Even though God’s totally behind the evil, he’s not evil. He can’t be; he says he’s not!

Eventually their blasphemous explanations get a little too incredible for even them to believe. Which is why so many determinists quit Christianity or turn atheist. And y’know, if God really were the way determinists claim, I can’t blame people for rejecting him: That’s not a good God!

But I would counter that’s not God. The true God doesn’t have a dark side. Doesn’t have a secret evil plan. Far be it from him to even imagine a secret evil plan. And yes, he’s still sovereign and almighty; just not deterministic.

St. Thomas, and healthy skepticism.

21 December is the feast day of the apostle Thomas. His name Tomás is produced by taking the Aramaic word taóm/“twin” and adding the Greek noun-suffix -as to it. John pointed out he was also called Dídymos/“twice,” so likely he was an identical twin. There’s an old tradition he looked just like Jesus, and that’s why they called him a twin, but since Jesus was likely old enough to be his dad, I think they’d have nicknamed him “junior” instead of “twin.” No doubt Thomas had a twin brother, though we know nothing about him.

What we do know is Thomas was one of the Twelve, namely the one who wouldn’t believe Jesus was alive till he saw him for himself.

John 20.24-25 KWL

24 Thomas, one of the Twelve, called Twin, wasn’t with the others when Jesus came.

25 The other students told Thomas, “We saw the Master!”

He told them, “Unless I see the nail-marks on his hands and put my finger on the nail-scars

and put my hand on the scar on his side, I can’t believe it.”

And we give him crap for this.

We call him “Doubting Thomas.” Forgetting none of the Twelve believed the women whom Jesus first appeared to. Lk 24.11 Simon Peter did bother to check out the sepulcher for himself, and John informs us he followed behind, but all of them thought the women were nuts. And when Jesus did show up to talk to them, at first they thought he was a ghost. Lk 24.37

Thomas just happened to be the only guy not in the room when Jesus first appeared, and like the others, couldn’t believe until he saw Jesus with his own eyes.

So Jesus accommodated him.

John 20.26-29 KWL

26 Eight days later the students, Thomas included, were indoors again.

Though the door was closed, Jesus came, stood in the middle of them, and said, “Peace to you.”

27 Then he told Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands.

Put your hand on my side. Don‘t be an unbeliever. Believe!“

28 In reply, Thomas said, “My Master and my God!”

29 Jesus told him, “This you believe because you saw me?

How awesome for those who don‘t see me, yet believe.”

Jesus wants us to trust him wholeheartedly. Sometimes that’s hard for us to do. I get that. So does he. But he’s willing to work with us if we’re willing to make the effort, and not just close our minds to what he’s trying to teach us. Thomas, y’notice, didn’t abandon his fellow students just because they were sure Jesus was alive, and Thomas wasn’t so sure. Eight days later, there he was, the only doubter in a roomful of believers, holding out because you don’t just psyche yourself into believing things; that’s how people get led astray. You take your doubts to God—who might be the one making you doubt! You investigate. You look for evidence. You patiently wait. Thomas did all that, and his wait was rewarded.

So don’t give Thomas crap. Commend his patience. Jesus gave him the truth he sought. He’ll do that for you too, y’know.

Near-death experiences, and the afterlife.

In yesterday’s article, “How long does hell last?” I brought up the subject of near-death experiences, those cases where people died and came back, and have a tale to tell about what they saw in the afterlife.

And they have all sorts of tales. Like of an out-of-body experience, where their ghost watched the doctors or EMTs trying to bring ’em back to life. Like a spirit-realm experience, where they met angels, dead loved ones, Jesus, or the Father. Like an afterlife experience, where they travel through a tunnel of light and get to poke around heaven for a bit. In some cases it’s the bad afterlife, and they’re in hell.

These stories are really popular, and people share them and cling to them for hope. Books about them sell. Movies too. Since we have big questions about the afterlife, we figure near-death experiences help answer these questions.

This is also true for Christians. The scriptures don’t tell us a whole lot about the afterlife, because God’s kingdom is about new life, not afterlife. Resurrection, not living in a realm of the dead. So since the afterlife ultimately doesn’t matter—we’re getting rescued from it!—all we know about it are hints, clues, and no real details. But we want details: If Jesus doesn’t return before we die, we’re gonna experience the afterlife, and wanna know what we’re in for. So we tend to fill in those gaps in our knowledge with educated guesses, mythology… and of course the near-death experiences of those who’ve “been there.”

Yeah, putting it in quotes kinda tips off the fact I doubt they’ve really been there. Here’s why.

Jesus raises a dead girl. (Or was she only asleep?)

Mark 5.21-24, 35-43, Matthew 9.18-19, 23-26, Luke 8.40-42, 49-56.

There’s a story in the middle of this story, about a woman with a bloodflow. I’ll get to it later.

Mark and Luke tell this story after Jesus’s side trip to the Dekapolis, and Matthew puts it after Jesus taught on fasting.

Mark 5.21-43 KWL

21After crossing back over the lake in the boat,

a great crowd again gathers around Jesus.

He’s on the shore.

22One of the synagogue presidents, named Jaïr,

sees him, falls at his feet,

23and urges him to come with him, saying this:

“My daughter is at the point of death.

If you¹ come lay your hands on her,

you¹ can save her; she can live.”

24Jesus goes with him.

The great crowd follows—and is crushing him.

Matthew 9.18-19 KWL

18While Jesus says these things, look:

A ruler comes and kneels before him,

saying this: “My daughter died just now,

but come lay hands on her and she’ll live.”

19Getting up, Jesus follows him,

as do his students.

Luke 8.40-42 KWL

40Upon Jesus’s return, the crowd greets him,

for they are all expecting him.

41Look: A man named Jair comes.

This man became president of the synagogue.

He falls at Jesus’s feet

and prays that he come to his house,

42for he has an only-begotten 12-year-old daughter,

and she is dying.

As Jesus is going away with Jair,

the crowd is choking him.

Maybe you caught the discrepancy; most Christians totally miss it. In Mark and Luke the girl’s at the point of death. In Matthew she’s already died.

Changes the story a little; there’s no longer any sense of urgency in getting to the house before death takes her. Not that curing illness, or curing death, makes any difference to Jesus. Does to doctors—and to us, because we have a bad habit of projecting our limitations upon God. We gotta not do that. Jesus can cure anything. Death too.

But the girl being dead already is why Matthew doesn’t include this bit in mid-story about people running up to tell them she’s died. Didn’t need to.

Mark 5.35-36 KWL

35While they’re speaking,

some come against the synagogue president,

saying this: “Your¹ daughter died.

Why keep bothering the teacher?”

36Jesus refuses to listen to their message,

and tells the synagogue president, “No fear.

Just trust me.”

Luke 8.49-50 KWL

49While Jesus is still speaking,

someone from the synagogue president’s house comes,

saying this: “Your¹ daughter has died.

You¹ needn’t bother the teacher.”

50Jesus, hearing this, tells Jair, “No fear.

Just trust me: She’ll be saved.”

So was the girl already dead or not? Obviously most Christians vote not—because it’s a more dramatic story that way. But that’s not enough of a reason to pick one gospel over the other. I lean towards the idea she wasn’t dead yet, mainly because there’s no good reason to make it up. “Don’t be afraid; just trust me” is a common theme in the gospels regardless.