Antony McMullen

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

What follows is a short reflection that comes very late indeed - tipping, perhaps, into the territory of the aphorism itself. Like many others I have been doing my best (and sometimes failing) to practice prayer and simplicity throughout this Lenten period; sitting with what matters, as the season invites. If you find something of value here and wish to provide support, you are warmly welcome to sponsor me (I work at UnitingWorld). For this reflection I’ll focus on the story of Lazurus and somewhat awkwardly reference a Nick Cave song while wondering if procrastination could be a hidden theme in the Gospel narrative. Not sure all of this hangs together; but here goes.

In the 2025–2026 Uniting Church lectionary, the Lazarus reading falls on 'Lent 5', Sunday 22 March 2026. The Gospel reading is John 11:1–45, which is the raising of Lazarus.

'Better late than never' goes the well-worn aphorism (tipping into cliché).

Perhaps it's an odd take for this following Lenten reflection on the story of Lazarus but here I am, reflecting on 'getting there late', as well as, appropriate for the season, new life.

When hearing this story in my local Catholic church, the Johannine reading communicated overarching themes of relationship, bereavement and, strangely, procrastination.

"Lord, the one you love is sick"

Mary and Martha, two sisters from Bethany in Judea (now Palestine), sent word. Mary (sometimes erroneously conflated with Mary of Magdala - a conflation formalised in the West by Pope Gregory I in 591 AD but firmly rejected in Eastern Christianity, which has always venerated them as distinct persons), whose brother Lazarus now lay sick, was the same one who poured perfume on Jesus' feet with her hair (John 12:1–8); in that other story, in western readings Martha is cast as stickler, while Mary remains intimately in the moment prioritising the importance of love over order (love taking precedence, although of course both are required in life); in Eastern Christian tradition, by contrast, Martha is also honoured as near-apostolic - her confession, "I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God" (John 11:27), is among the most luminous in all of the Gospels.

But by the time Jesus came it was too late. It is here where we get the oft-used phrase, "Jesus wept".

"Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died"

When Jesus saw Mary and the crowd weeping "he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled" - the Greek word, embrimaomai, carries something closer to a groan from the depths, a visceral grief.

Jesus approached the tomb where Lazarus lay.

"Lazarus, come out!"

Jesus said, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go"; the dead man, Lazarus, came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.

Indulge me for a moment as I diverge into popular culture and reference Nick Cave; once an enfant terrible, he now seems to be integrating his long use of Scripture in his work with something like lived faith, having also been in conversation with Rowan Williams, the former Archbishop of Canterbury and noted theologian. In my view, a bit of a lacklustre song (and album), albeit with a provocative title, "Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!"; Cave asks:

"But what do we really know of the dead "And who actually cares? "Well I don't know what it is "But there's definitely something going on upstairs"

Apparently, the song was inspired not only by the story of Lazarus, but also by Harry Houdini the famous escape artist of the late 1800s and early 1900s who loved to myth-bust, in his opinion, charlatan spiritualists taking advantage of the bereaved.

I’ll return to Cave briefly in the postscript to this, but for now let me get back to the Gospel story.

"Lord, the one you love is sick"

The stories of Mary, Martha and Lazarus bring relationship to the fore. The relationship of Jesus to these siblings - all three of whom John presents as beloved friends: "Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus" (John 11:5) - is one, it seems, best described as intimate friendship as opposed to the other stories of Apostles as followers. When Lazarus dies Jesus cries for the friend he loves in deep grief.

Here is the thing that I haven't heard anyone talk about (but I am sure there must have been someone in the last two thousand or so years who has). Despite Mary and Martha contacting Jesus that Lazarus is sick, he waits another couple of days before returning to Judea even though his disciples warn him against it due to the community attempting to stone him to death when he was last there.

Although Jesus is certain that his friend will not die; when he arrives, he has. The tears of grief may have incorporated some kind of shock even though the Gospel account seems to also suggest he might have seen it coming, where it states that Jesus exclaims that, "our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up."

Maybe it's just me (a purely personal reflection) but I think that Jesus may have procrastinated about going back to Judea (this is entirely speculative - the text also suggests a deliberate delay, so that "God's Son may be glorified through it", John 11:4) even if the overall arc of the story resolves in the resurrection of Lazarus. As someone who is prone to this challenge in life, i.e. putting things off, this possible reading deeply resonates with me.

Our most challenging compulsions though can be transfigured in faith. Jesus knows that his Father would hear him and that this miracle would result in "benefit of the people", "that they may believe that you sent me."

This is the hope implicit in the Gospel story; that even the things that appear to hold us back can be turned to the good. There is nothing more final than death; however, this story does not end that way for Lazarus - he is returned to new life transformed by miraculous loving friendship. As with all parts of life, it is relationship that really matters; with God, internally and with those around us.

Postscript: what came next?

So, what happened to Lazarus?

Despite the clergy of the day seeking out Lazarus as a wanted man, tradition has it that he lived another thirty years (after being resuscitated to new life by Jesus); eventually serving the church as Bishop of Kition (today's Larnaka in Cyprus) before dying a martyr (like so many fellow travellers on the Christian way), in AD 63.

One wonders what he experienced before all of this when he was clinically dead finding out what is, in the words of Cave, 'going on upstairs' (again this is possibly unwise speculation - the text is silent on this, and tradition tends toward reverent restraint on the question); modern accounts of such phenomena suggest a profound luminous moment for some. In any case, most do care about what happens after our death. Before bodily death, there are some prequels too. More broadly, does death have the last word, with all spiritual alternatives being essentially Houdini parlour tricks?

In the Eastern churches, 'Lazarus Saturday' is a kind of joyous Lenten prequel; a kind of mini-Pascha (Easter) that breaks the fast momentarily before Holy Week. Waking up to Jesus who would joyously wipe away his tears to greet him into life would have been nothing short of re-birth. This prefigures Christ rising from the dead, trampling down death by his death, and on those in the tombs bestowing life (as sung in the Troparion of Pascha).