Fifth Sunday of Lent - March 29
Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:3-7, 17, 20-27, 33b-45
Within this famously dramatic gospel in which Jesus promises eternal life and performs the spectacular miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead, is the equally intriguing subplot of Jesus exhibiting his own humanity and emotion.
At first, we see a supremely confident, seemingly arrogant Jesus who, despite urgent messages from Mary and Martha imploring him to come save their dying brother, stays away from Judea while Lazarus suffers and finally dies. By Jesus’ own words, this appears to be a calculated delay. “For your sakes, I am glad I was not there, that you may come to believe” ( Jn. 11:15). Like a playwright using a first act to heighten the drama of a second, John’s Jesus lets Lazarus die, giving him the opportunity to raise his friend from the dead.
Yet, when he finally arrives at Bethany four days after Lazarus has died, the Gospel writer shows us a very different Jesus. Immediately upon arrival he is met by a distraught, grieving and angry Martha. She pulls no punches. “If you had been here, my brother never would have died” ( Jn. 11:21). At this, I imagine Jesus finally grasping the collateral suffering caused by Lazarus’ death: Martha’s tear streaked face and sleepless eyes; her sister Mary too despondent to have even left the house; a throng of weeping neighbors and friends. He was troubled in spirit, moved by the deepest emotions. Jesus
begins to weep. Is his previous confidence shattered? Confronted with the reality of death and its effect on the community, I can clearly imagine Jesus second guessing his decision to let Lazarus die.
While in his head Jesus probably knows that raising Lazarus from the dead was necessary to convince the community of his divine power; in his empathetic, human heart he feels the same sadness and pain as those affected by the original tragedy of Lazarus’ death.
Q: When faced with the sickness or death of a loved one, it is tempting to imagine God as disappointingly indifferent to our grief. However, in this Gospel, we see that Jesus feels everything we do and that he suffers and grieves right by our side. Can you name a time of sadness when you felt Jesus’ compassionate heart weeping with you?
Within this famously dramatic gospel in which Jesus promises eternal life and performs the spectacular miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead, is the equally intriguing subplot of Jesus exhibiting his own humanity and emotion.
At first, we see a supremely confident, seemingly arrogant Jesus who, despite urgent messages from Mary and Martha imploring him to come save their dying brother, stays away from Judea while Lazarus suffers and finally dies. By Jesus’ own words, this appears to be a calculated delay. “For your sakes, I am glad I was not there, that you may come to believe” ( Jn. 11:15). Like a playwright using a first act to heighten the drama of a second, John’s Jesus lets Lazarus die, giving him the opportunity to raise his friend from the dead.
Yet, when he finally arrives at Bethany four days after Lazarus has died, the Gospel writer shows us a very different Jesus. Immediately upon arrival he is met by a distraught, grieving and angry Martha. She pulls no punches. “If you had been here, my brother never would have died” ( Jn. 11:21). At this, I imagine Jesus finally grasping the collateral suffering caused by Lazarus’ death: Martha’s tear streaked face and sleepless eyes; her sister Mary too despondent to have even left the house; a throng of weeping neighbors and friends. He was troubled in spirit, moved by the deepest emotions. Jesus
begins to weep. Is his previous confidence shattered? Confronted with the reality of death and its effect on the community, I can clearly imagine Jesus second guessing his decision to let Lazarus die.
While in his head Jesus probably knows that raising Lazarus from the dead was necessary to convince the community of his divine power; in his empathetic, human heart he feels the same sadness and pain as those affected by the original tragedy of Lazarus’ death.
Q: When faced with the sickness or death of a loved one, it is tempting to imagine God as disappointingly indifferent to our grief. However, in this Gospel, we see that Jesus feels everything we do and that he suffers and grieves right by our side. Can you name a time of sadness when you felt Jesus’ compassionate heart weeping with you?
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