In the account of the death of Lazarus, it’s interesting to note the details of measurement that John includes.
One person was sick and eventually died: Lazarus.
When Jesus heard that his friend was sick, he inexplicably delayed visiting him by two days,
When Jesus’ disciples protest his return to the area because of hostility toward him, he starts talking about twelve hours of daylight.
By the time Jesus arrived, Lazarus had been dead for four days. (Which seems to mean that by the time word read Jesus of Lazarus’ illness, he had already died).
Bethany was two miles from Jerusalem. A short journey.
How many people made that journey to come mourn with Mary and Martha, Lazarus’ sisters? John doesn’t know the exact number, so he says many.
And we are not told this part by John, but I think it’s fair to assume that Lazarus’ family and friends were counting the years of his life, lamenting a life that was cut far too short.
All of that is just to tell the story that Lazarus had died. No one could have even yet anticipated that Jesus would raise him from the dead. So in between every word is nothing but grief and loss and darkness.
I don’t think there’s any real significance to John’s numbers. There’s no spiritual code to crack. I think that the counting (and other vivid details) simply make the story more real, more vivid. John is a good storyteller, and he wants us to enter into the grief of Mary, Martha, Jesus, and the many others who gathered to mourn. The details remind us of losses we have endured.
Grief cannot be measured, but it is quite real. It is never enough to simply say, “A person died.” Mere counting does not do justice to such a loss. So thanks be to God for those who show up for us in times of grief. And thanks be to God that Jesus meets us there as well.
