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.
The Jews therefore said, Behold how he loved him!
The crowd standing at the grave watches Jesus in tears and reaches a verdict about His heart. Their words are warm, and in one sense they are right. Yet commentators differ over what those tears were for.
The people had evidence for what they said. Both the sisters and John knew of that love. The crowd was not guessing.
Some who saw the tears of Jesus said, "See how He loved him" (John 11:36). This was surely true, as the sisters knew (John 11:3) and as John knew (John 11:5). The tears expressed the love of Jesus for Lazarus. They also showed that He was not unfeeling toward the cruel wounds death had made in the hearts of the sisters of Bethany.
Lazarus was about to walk out of the tomb. So the weeping must have had another object.
The Jews, standing around the grave, misread the tears. They say, "See how He loved him!" The Lord did love Lazarus, but the tears were not the expression of His love for Lazarus. The sisters may weep for the loss of their brother. But there was no need for the Lord to weep for one He was about to raise. He did not weep for the dead 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.
One writer goes further. He reads the tears as sympathy for everyone death has crushed, and denies they came from affection for Lazarus.
These tears of the Saviour were deep sympathy for the human race, crushed under the weight of death and unable to lift itself out. They were sympathy for these tested souls too. The Jews thought the tears of Jesus came from His affection for Lazarus: "See how He loved him!" they say. That was very natural, but what He was about to do forbids us to hold such a thought.
Who you believe the weeper to be changes what the tears mean. A bystander sees a grieving friend. Faith sees the mighty God about to raise the dead.
Even the Jews could not help saying, "See how He loved him!" What would they have thought if they had known He was just about to raise the dead man? ... Only faith in the glory of His Person reads the depth of His love rightly, and values it in its measure. "Jesus wept." These words mean one thing to someone who sees only a man. They mean far more to someone who knows Him as the mighty God, the only-begotten Son! Even a believer cannot fail to own His love here. But how much greater that love becomes when we see His divine dignity, and know that He was about to act in the power of divine life above death!
Their admiration did not stop there. Having praised the love, the crowd went on to ask why it had not acted sooner.
His tears told the Jews how Jesus loved Lazarus. Like the sisters, they could not understand why He had not kept him from dying. They reasoned in a human, worldly way. Love that showed such sympathy, they thought, might have used its power at the start to heal the sick man. But perfect wisdom and unfathomable love had arranged the circumstances. The Father was directing and the Son was obeying. Everything was working together for good — that is, for the glory of God.
The onlookers spoke of this love as something in the past. One writer points out that the New Testament refuses to leave it there.
John 11:36, "See how He loved him." While we can speak of His love in the past tense, how good to know it is a love that continues. John, in Revelation 1:5, spoke of the love of Christ as a reality that never stops. About our sins he used the past tense: "has freed us from our sins." But about the love that led Him to do that cleansing work once for all, he wrote, "To Him who loves us." Praise His Name, He loves and will go on loving His own.
- Seen — The crowd was right as far as it went. The tears showed love, and Jesus was not unfeeling toward hearts wounded by death.
- Misread — Commentators differ on the source of the tears. Some say they expressed love for Lazarus. Others say He had no reason to weep for a man He was about to raise. He wept for the living, and for a race crushed under death.
- Measured — Only faith in who He is can measure that love. The words "Jesus wept" mean one thing to someone who sees a man. They mean far more to someone who sees the only-begotten Son.
- Questioned — Admiration slid into complaint. Why had He not kept him from dying? That was human reasoning. All the while the Father was directing and the Son obeying, for the glory of God.
- Continuing — Their verb was past tense; Scripture keeps it present. He loves and goes on loving His own.