Witness — the Christian response

There is no truth to what legendary Reggae artiste Bob Marley sang back in 1976 that “everywhere is war”. What remains true is war and conflict continue to claim lives and destroy communities.

The three-week-old war in the Middle East, and the prolonged devastation of the war in Ukraine show how easily human dignity becomes collateral damage in geopolitical struggles.

Nations justify military actions in the language of security and strategy, yet the result is the same: families and communities grieving, buildings left in ruins after airstrikes, and a generation learning the language of violence before the language of peace.

Closer to home, the Caribbean faces its own burdens. Haiti remains trapped in instability and suffering, where ordinary citizens struggle daily against lawlessness and despair. In Cuba, economic hardship, collapsing power grids, and food shortages test the resilience of the people.

These crises are not distant headlines for us. They are part of the regional reality in which Caribbean families, churches, and communities must live and respond.

Here in Trinidad and Tobago, the signs of social illness are also painfully visible. Crime and violence have become an almost routine part of the national conversation despite another State of Emergency. Economic uncertainty, rising costs of living, and deep social divisions add to the sense that something essential in our society is struggling for breath.

Rolling away the stone

In this Sunday’s Gospel from John, Lazarus lies in a tomb sealed with a stone. The symbolism is striking. A tomb represents more than death; it represents what appears irreversible. Martha herself warns Jesus that opening the tomb will reveal decay. In other words, some situations seem too far gone to restore.

Many people feel that way about the world today. The wars seem endless. Violence appears uncontrollable. Political systems often seem incapable of addressing the suffering of ordinary people. The temptation is to accept these realities as permanent, to leave the stone in place.

Yet the Gospel refuses that conclusion. Standing before the tomb, Jesus declares: “I am the resurrection and the life.” These words are not merely about the distant promise of eternal life. They are also a declaration that God’s power can break into situations that appear beyond hope.

Even before the miracle occurs, Jesus weeps. The Son of God does not remain distant from human suffering. He enters it fully. His tears remind us that compassion is not weakness; it is the beginning of transformation.

Then comes the command that changes everything: “Take the stone away.” In many ways, that command is directed not only at the disciples but to us. Christians are called to participate in the work of removing the stones that trap our societies in cycles of violence, injustice, and despair. The stone may be hatred between nations. It may be corruption or indifference within our own communities. It may be the resignation that says nothing can change.

After Lazarus emerges, Jesus gives another instruction: “Unbind him, let him go free.” Even resurrection requires human cooperation. Those around Lazarus must remove the cloths that bind him. John’s Gospel is a reminder that faith cannot remain abstract. It must take shape in the work of peace, justice, and reconciliation.

The Christian response to war, crime, and social suffering is not despair but witness—a witness grounded in the conviction that death and destruction do not have the final word. In a world that often feels like a tomb, the voice of Christ still calls for life. The question, as Jesus asked Martha, remains the same: “Do you believe this?”