Mary therefore, when she came where Jesus was, seeing him, fell at his feet, saying to him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.
Martha met Jesus first and spoke at once; Mary came later, said less, and fell at His feet. Her words repeat Martha's word for word — so what makes the same sentence different on different lips?
What separates Mary is not what she says but the posture she says it from.
Mary was not above the pressure of death any more than others. She repeats what Martha said; but she was of a different spirit in repeating it. But if she saw in Him as yet only power to preserve, if she had to learn that He is the resurrection and the life, at least she fell at His feet, as Martha did not. And the Lord, if He says nothing, will soon answer in deed and in truth.
The verse puts three things in order: she came, she saw Him, and then she fell and spoke.
When Martha went and met the Lord, she spoke at once. But the account states two things about Mary before she expressed the sorrow of her heart. She had come into His presence, she had seen Him, and she had fallen at His feet — and only then did her lips utter her pent-up feeling. In fact, it would seem that Mary fell at His feet as a result of having gazed upon His face. She knew more of the Lord than her sister. With her quick and responsive affection, she would read in His face what Martha could not have perceived.
The onlookers assumed Mary was heading for the tomb to cry there. She was going somewhere else. Where a mourner weeps decides whether the grief finds any comfort.
The Jews, mistaking her action, say, "She goes to the grave to weep there." She was doing what was far better, what faith alone can do. She was going to the feet of Jesus to weep there. To weep at the grave of loved ones even the world can do, but it brings no comfort: tears will not bring back our dead. To weep at the feet of Jesus is to find the comfort of His love. We weep at the feet of One who, in His own time, can raise our dead, and in the meantime can comfort our hearts... In other days she had sat at His feet as a learner. So, in her days of sorrow, she is able to be at His feet as a mourner. And in a little while she will be found at His feet as a worshipper.
She trusted Him to stop a sickness. Once death had come, she could see no way forward.
Mary, too, was under the weight of death. In that respect she did not go beyond Martha. But she was sure of the goodness of Jesus, as Martha also had been, and she said, "If You had been here, my brother would not have died." Death was between her hope and Jesus, since Jesus had not been between Lazarus and death. For her, death had shut the door to all hope. Lazarus was no longer in the land of the living, and there was no longer anyone to be healed.
The same sentence could sound like a complaint. One writer traces her tone to her sense of who He is:
"He could not have died if You had been here, Lord." I do not think there was complaint in it. I think it was a simple statement of a soul that was under the sense of the glory of His Person in a very beautiful way.
Another writer weighs the same question and lands on her trust in Him:
In her case there might have been perplexity, but there was certainly neither complaint nor implied reproach. It was her heart's confession that if He had been in Bethany her brother would not have died. Great as her grief was, she could trust Him completely, and she did.
Martha kept talking. Mary stops — and that stopping is itself an act of trust.
She falls at His feet with a stronger emotion than Martha has shown, but only to repeat her sister's words... There, unlike Martha, she stops and says no more. She sees no way, and cannot speak as if she did. Let the lips she has listened to so often speak for Him and her.
- Feet, learned. She sat at those feet as a learner first. That is why she can kneel there as a mourner, and worship there later.
- Feet, not grave. Anyone can weep at a tomb and get nothing back; weeping at His feet reaches the One who comforts now and raises later.
- Feet, and few words. She says what Martha said, word for word, then stops — leaving the speaking to Him.
- Feet, and a short faith. Her hope stretched only to healing. With death in the way she saw no road left, and had yet to learn He is the resurrection and the life.
- Feet, and His answer. He gives her no word here at all. His answer comes in deed and in truth.
Jesus therefore, when he saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her weeping, was deeply moved in spirit, and was troubled,
Mary is in tears, and the crowd around her is weeping too. Jesus answers not with power but with a groan — why does He groan at a grave He is about to empty?
He is near the grave, but what moves Him first is the crying of the people in front of Him.
The sight of human tears drew out a groan from the loving, sympathising heart of the Son of God. Let all mourners remember this. Jesus did not rebuke Mary for weeping. He did not make light of her sorrow. He did not tell her she ought not to feel, that she ought to be above anything of that sort. No, that would not be like Him. Some heartless people may talk that way, but He knew better. Though He was the Son of God, He was a real man. So He felt as a man ought to feel. He knew what a man must feel while walking through the dark valley of tears.
Where the ESV says "deeply moved in his spirit," older translations read "He groaned in the spirit." The word behind it is strong. One commentator shows where else it turns up.
The word translated "deeply moved" occurs elsewhere for a "strict" or stern "charge," as in Matthew 9:30 and Mark 1:43. It also appears for angry speech, as in Mark 14:5. Here it is the inward feeling rather than the expression... It means the strong, and perhaps indignant, affection the Lord felt at the power of death. That power held not only the Jews but Mary, and the enemy still wielded it... His indignant sense of Satan's power through sin did not lessen His deep compassion in the least.
The account never says anyone heard it.
He groaned in the spirit. That groaning is not said to have been audible. We do not read that the Jews noticed it. They made no remark on it. But we know it, and learn from it how really, how deeply, He can feel for the sorrows of His sinful creatures.
He is about to raise Lazarus, so the groan is not just grief over a loss He will undo. What, then, was pressing on Him?
He was so "deeply moved," or "groaning," because He had gone down in spirit under the heavy load of sorrow. That load lay on the heart of Mary and on the hearts of those around her. Through His sympathy He entered their grief and made it His own. He took it up on His own shoulders, so to speak. He knew perfectly what caused it, and He weighed its real character before God. So the burden pressed on Him until it forced out this groan. And remember that the heart of this burden was death. At that moment death lay on the mourners' hearts and over the whole scene. But death is the judgment of God on man. So we may say that in this scene the Lord anticipated His death on the cross. Here He took up and bore this judgment in compassion and sympathy; on the cross He bore it for the glory of God, making atonement for sin.
Older translations end the verse with "He troubled Himself." That is something He did, not something that happened to Him.
But we may note that in our Lord's case, deep as His grief was, it was His servant. "He troubled Himself." It did not gain the mastery, as our affections tend to do with us. Every feeling in Christ was perfect in kind, in measure, and in timing. His groaning, His trouble, His weeping — what were they not in God's sight!
His grief also had a Godward side.
He was holy, innocent, undefiled, and death had no claim on Him. Yet He felt in His spirit the dreadful dishonour done to God, and the awful distance and desolation of men. As perfect Man, He not only felt for God. Being God in His own glory, He also felt for man as only God could in the presence of human misery.
Why record the groan and the tears at all, when Lazarus was about to walk out alive?
Some might possibly think that such expressions of sorrow on the part of our Lord were needless, seeing He was about to raise Lazarus. But think what we should have missed if there were no record of His groaning and shedding tears. Now we may see how He knows "our frame."
- Seen — the groan starts with what He sees: Mary and the crowd weeping. He never tells a mourner to stop feeling.
- Felt — the word is strong, even indignant: His response to death's power in the enemy's hand. The feeling was inward; no one is said to have heard it.
- Carried — through sympathy He took their sorrow on His own shoulders. The heart of that burden was death, God's judgment on man. He bore it here in compassion; on the cross He bore it for God's glory.
- Controlled — "He troubled Himself." The grief was real, but it served Him. Every feeling in Him came in perfect measure, at the right moment.
- Recorded — the account could have left out the tears, since Lazarus was about to rise. We have them so we may see how He knows "our frame."
and said, Where have ye put him? They say to him, Lord, come and see.
The question is simple, but it comes from someone who already knew Lazarus was dead. So why did the One who could raise a man from the tomb need to ask where the tomb was?
Some read this line as proof that Jesus had limited knowledge and needed directions like anyone else. Other writers point to the chapter itself. He knew of the death from a distance and timed His return around it.
He was aware of His friend Lazarus' death while still in the place where He stayed two days, to allow it to happen in His absence. He timed His return to suit the circumstances. At the beginning of this whole course of events He declared, "This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it" — and that declaration makes it clear how fully He knew the whole sad episode and its happy outcome in advance. That He depended on ordinary sources of information for this detail — really, what can be said of this?
There is a second reason for asking out loud. The question made the crowd, not Jesus, name the spot.
"Where have you laid him?" If the Lord had not asked this question, would not unbelievers have said that He was only acting a part, or that there was collusion?
The verse before says He was deeply moved in His spirit and greatly troubled. Commentators find in that word something stronger than sadness — a reaction against the enemy holding these people in his grip.
It means the strong, and it may be indignant, affection the Lord felt at the power of death over Mary, and not only over the Jews. The enemy still wielded that power... His indignant sense of Satan's power through sin did not interfere in the least with His deep compassion.
He saw more than a dead man. He saw living hearts crushed by death.
He saw the power of death resting on those human hearts. It was a very deep thing. He knew He was just going to raise him from the dead. But He sees the state they are in. They do not know what is coming... He had the power to remove it all, but the weight and dark shadow of death was resting on human souls, on those He loved, and He felt it.
Here He does not tell the mourners to stop crying. He asks a question, and it puts Him where they are standing.
His tender question to the broken-hearted sister, "Where have you laid him?" shows how gently the Lord lightened the burden of the sorrowing heart. He made her see that His heart was just where hers was — at the tomb of Lazarus... He told the widow of Nain not to weep. He told Jairus that his daughter was not dead but sleeping. Each time He meant to wipe away the tears. But in Bethany the Lord weeps with His saints. The grandest display of the power of the Lord to raise the dead came together with the greatest witness to His deep sympathy with the bereaved.
Their answer is an invitation with nothing in it but loss. The same words appear earlier in John's Gospel. Jesus used them, and so did Philip when he called Nathanael.
This expression appears twice in chapter 1. First the Lord uses it, inviting others into His circumstances. Then Philip uses it, inviting Nathanael to see the Lord. But all that man has to show the Lord is a grave! How could He help thinking of His own coming death and burial for the sake of mankind in its sinful, ruined state?
Their answer also shows the limit of human sympathy.
The power of human sympathy only ties us down to the grief it wants to ease. It lays the body in the grave and puts a stone over the mouth. The Lord does indeed grieve and trouble Himself, but He seeks out the ruin to remedy it.
Their reply also shows how we bring our own sorrows to God.
"Where have you laid him?" That is all you can do. The man that I love I can do more for... Notice the tendency, which Jesus does meet. We bring God down to the service of our sorrow. We do not look to the power of God to remedy our sorrow for His glory. This is our unbelief. It is, "Come and see Lazarus dead," not, "You, O Lord, are the resurrection and the life."
- Asked, not needed. He had known of the death from far away and had timed His arrival; the question came from interest, not ignorance.
- Asked, so witnesses answer. By making the crowd name the tomb, He left no room for the charge that the miracle was staged.
- Asked from a troubled heart. Behind the words lies strong feeling against death's grip on those He loved. He felt it even while knowing He was about to break it.
- Answered with a grave. "Come and see" is an invitation elsewhere in John to see Christ; here all that man can show Him is a burial place.
- Answered beyond the grave. Sympathy alone only leads to the tomb and seals it. He goes to the ruin to remedy it, for the glory of God.
Jesus wept.
At the grave of Lazarus, two sisters and a crowd of mourners stand in tears, and Jesus is there among them. Two words record what He did, and they raise the question every grieving person asks: does God feel what I feel?
The chapter divisions and verse numbers in our Bibles were added by people, not by the writers. One commentator notes this, then draws attention to what happened here.
Everyone knows that the verses of our Bible are a human arrangement. Yet who can doubt that the Spirit of God guided the one who made it, in putting these two words into a verse of their own! They should stand alone, because they open a window into the very depths of the Lord's heart. They have comforted mourners in every age. They will keep comforting His people until God Himself wipes away every tear from their eyes.
Mary was weeping. What He did next shows how He treats sorrow in His own people.
The sight of human tears drew a groan from the loving, sympathising heart of the Son of God. Let all mourners remember this. Jesus did not rebuke Mary for weeping. He did not make light of her sorrow. He did not tell her she ought not to feel, that she ought to be above anything of that sort. No — that would not be like Him. Some heartless people may talk that way, but He knew better. He was the Son of God, but He was also a real man. So He felt as a man ought to feel. He knew what a person feels when passing through the dark valley of tears.
Jesus was about to raise Lazarus. So the tears had another cause.
The sisters had reason to weep for the loss of their brother. But the Lord had no need to weep for a man He was about to raise. It was not for the dead He wept, but for the living — not for the loss of Lazarus, but for the sorrow of Mary and Martha. In a little while, love will raise Lazarus, but first love will weep with Martha and Mary. He broke His heart to bind up our hearts, and shed His tears to dry our tears.
Others widen the circle further, past the two sisters to everyone death has ever touched.
These tears of the Saviour were deep sympathy for the whole human race. Death crushed it with a weight it could not lift. He felt for these tested souls too.
Watching Him cry, the crowd said He must have loved Lazarus. Commentators differ on whether they were right. Some say His plan to raise Lazarus rules that out. Others place it beside His sympathy for the sisters.
They are truly tears of sympathy with the grieving sisters in their great sorrow. There is truth in what the Jews said: "See how He loved him!" What deep comfort the tears of Jesus have brought to His own people in times of loss.
He knew He was about to raise Lazarus. He could have done it without a tear. He did not.
He wept as He was reaching the grave of Lazarus, though He knew He carried life for the dead. He who had just said, "I am the resurrection and the life," wept. Divine power left His human feelings free to run their full course.
The original word for weeping here is precise. It marks out one kind of tears from another.
The word here means shedding silent tears. It is not the word for loud wailing that Luke 19:41 uses. But those silent tears of Jesus have moved the hearts of grieving believers for two thousand years.
That is why sorrow is not wasted on a believer.
"God comforts the downcast." If we were never downcast, we would never know that precious care of His. A stoic does not need the comfort of God. It is worth having a broken heart to have it bound up by our most merciful High Priest.
- Tears, first. Before power raised Lazarus, love wept with the sisters — He shed His tears to dry theirs.
- Tears, real. He was a real man, and He felt as a man ought to feel; He never told Mary she should be above weeping.
- Tears, wide. They reached past one grave to a whole race crushed under a weight it could not lift.
- Tears, free. Divine power did not silence human sympathy; the One who said "I am the resurrection and the life" still wept.
- Tears, lasting. Silent tears have comforted mourners for two thousand years. A broken heart is worth having, if He is the one who binds it up.