“Blessed are the Compassionate”
A sermon given this past Wednesday to “Churches for Middle East Peace” for the 2025 Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.
Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” John 11:26
In our passage for today, Lazarus’ sister Martha, confronts Jesus and, in what I imagine is quite a desperate tone of frustration and grieving, says to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Like many people do when they are grieving, she needs to find someone to blame, somewhere to place her sadness. And so, Martha blames Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She pushes past the theologizing, “Yes I know my brother will be raised again, but right now, I grieve the death of my family.” After this, Jesus has almost the same conversation with Martha’s sister, Mary. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” And after this interaction, John tells us, “[Jesus] was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” And after visiting Lazarus’ tomb, Jesus weeps.
Being an Armenian-American death is always present in my story, it is an ever-present burden of what it means to exist in the world. But along with the stories of the death of my people, there was also the stories of another death, the death of place; the stories of life lived on a land, in a place once called home, but that has now been ‘othered’ through displacement and dispossession. Perhaps, just as the body and soul are separated in death, so too, the separation of a people from their land is also a kind of death. This was also the case when 2023 Armenians in the territory of Artsakh were forced from the lands that they had inhabited for thousands of years. Also, with the constant threat of the displacement of Armenians from the Armenian Quarter in Jerusalem, where these people have lived since the third century.
The sad reality is that Armenians are not the only people from the Middle East who have had to experience both deaths, that of bodies, and of place. Syrians, Palestinians, Lebanese, to just name a few, have had these experiences in our living memory. For those who have roots in the Middle East, those who have family stories that go back to this region of the world, our stories are marred with the tales of harrowing deaths and courageous survivals.
But like Jesus, Martha, and Mary, between all these peoples and their stories, there is the shared experience of loss. Loss of loved ones and homes. There are so many cultural things that connect us. There are similar foods, traditions, and cultures. Similar religious practices. But one of the things that can unite us, is compassion.
When I read the news and hear of all the suffering that continues to take place in this part of the world I am filled with compassion. This is in part because in seeing the faces of those who suffer today, I see the echoes of my own family’s story. In this week of Christian unity, it is important to remember the role of compassion.
Compassion and unity are interconnected, each nurturing and sustaining the other in the pursuit of a more harmonious world. Compassion, the ability to empathize with the suffering of others and act with kindness, naturally fosters unity by breaking down barriers of division. The sense of shared purpose and interconnectedness among people, amplifies compassion by creating environments where empathy and care can flourish. Where unity is possible. Together, these principles can form the foundation of a just and loving world.
At its core, compassion requires recognizing the shared humanity of others, seeing their joys and struggles as intimately linked with our own. This recognition dissolves the illusion of separateness, inviting us to act in ways that promote mutual care. When we practice compassion, we acknowledge that the pain of one impacts the whole, encouraging solidarity and collective action. But perhaps it is this compassion that can be the root of unity amidst a diverse church and people. The understanding that our lives are entwined in ways that demand cooperation, empathy, and a commitment to the greater good. In cultivating both compassion and unity, we find the tools to build relationships that transcend individual interests, promoting a world where mutual care and shared purpose become the foundation of our collective identity.
Jesus saw the mourning of Martha and Mary and in empathy had compassion, and he wept. But with all this, with all our stories that include death and dispossession, there is one death, motivated by compassion for the world, that truly unifies. Like Lazarus, Jesus will die, but he will not stay dead. It is no longer only death that unites, but resurrection. Jesus’ is the death that brings life. It is the story of death that ends with resurrection. And through the Holy Spirit, we are united in the compassion of each other stories, united through the death, resurrection, and the ascension of Jesus Christ. Yes, compassion from the experience of death does unify, but Jesus’ is the death that unifies in life.
Paul reminds us in Galatians, that for those who believe in the resurrection of Jesus, we do not go from life to death, we go from life to true life. Death is no more, it is no longer the only thing that unifies, rather it is the one who is life that unifies us to the fullness of life. Compassion, both ours for each other, and Jesus’ for us, is what creates the unity required for us to be the Church of God. It is in this unity, that we can proclaim along with Jesus, “blessed are the compassionate, for they will receive compassion.” Amen