Glory: SALT's Lectionary Commentary for Lent 5
Lent 5 (Year A): John 11:1-45 and Ezekiel 37:1-14
Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episode on these passages: “Jesus, Wendell, and Henri - Part Five: Cross.”
Big Picture:
1) This is the fifth of the six Sundays in Lent. We’ll return to Matthew next week for Palm Sunday — but first, this week is John’s account of why the powers that be decide to have Jesus killed.
2) John’s Gospel is organized around seven astounding “signs” that reveal Jesus’ identity and mission. The turning of water into wine is the first of these signs — and this week’s reading, the raising of Lazarus, is the seventh. John’s name for these events — “signs” — points to their purpose: they’re supposed to catch our attention (even catch our breath!), drawing us toward life with and in God. Like road signs, these events refer beyond themselves to bigger, deeper realities — and the raising of Lazarus is no exception.
3) In the previous chapter, Jesus has just declared himself “the good shepherd,” who “lays down his life for the sheep” so “they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10-11). And now he makes good on that declaration, risking his life to save Lazarus’ — and setting in motion the backlash that will lead to the cross.
4) Indeed, immediately following this episode, the religious authorities decide Jesus must be “put to death” (John 11:53). Their reasoning goes like this: Signs such as raising the dead will inspire the masses to believe in him, and the Roman occupiers, fearing an insurrection, will crack down on all of us, destroying our temple and nation. Which begs the question: why would the authorities think this particular sign, the raising of Lazarus, would tip the scales in the eyes of the people?
5) Ezekiel gives us a clue. According to the prophet, God says, “You shall know that I am the LORD when I open your graves” (Ezekiel 37:13). Ezekiel probably wrote from exile in Babylon, and this week’s reading is likely an allegorical picture — with military overtones, since “the valley” appears to be a battlefield — of God reinvigorating “the house of Israel” (Ezekiel 37:2,11). With passages like this in mind, then, many in Jesus’ day would have been ready to interpret the raising of Lazarus — an “opening of a grave” — as a signal that God is about to vindicate Israel, vanquish the Roman occupation, and restore the nation “on your own soil” (Ezekiel 37:14). This interpretation could provoke a popular uprising, or at the very least a credible rumor of one — and the Roman response would likely be brutal. Better to get rid of Jesus sooner rather than later...
Scripture:
1) Lazarus’ name means, “God is my help.” He is Mary and Martha’s brother, a follower of Jesus, and a friend whom Jesus loved (John 11:3). And Jesus, having just narrowly escaped death by stoning, has fled the region — but Mary and Martha send word to him that Lazarus is gravely ill. Echoing his teaching last week about difficulty being an occasion through which “God’s works might be revealed,” Jesus tells his companions that Lazarus’ predicament will disclose “God’s glory… so that you may believe” (John 9:3; 11:4,15).
2) So Jesus decides to visit Lazarus — and this decision itself is striking. As his disciples rather anxiously point out, Jesus’ opponents in Judea have just tried to stone him — and now you’re turning around and going back there again? (John 10:31; 11:8). Thomas’ valiant proposal — “Let us all go, that we may die with him” — underscores how, from the disciples’ point of view, returning to Judea seems like suicide (John 11:16). Thomas’ remark foreshadows Peter’s promise to “lay down his life” for Jesus; in the end, of course, neither Thomas nor Peter do any such thing (John 13:37). In this way, through contrast and irony, John sharpens the portrait of Jesus as the good shepherd, the one who will “lay down his life for the sheep,” the one willing to risk his own life to save his friend’s (John 10:11). The cross is getting closer.
3) If the decision to return to Judea is striking, so is the decision to delay an additional “two days longer” before doing so (John 11:6). By the time Jesus finally arrives in Bethany, Lazarus “had already been in the tomb four days” (John 11:17). Why the delay? The time span is telling: a traditional belief in those days was that the soul lingered around the body for three days after death; by the fourth day, it was thought, the soul had left the corpse behind for good. Jesus seems to postpone his arrival until just this point — the better to call attention to “God’s works” and “God’s glory” through this seventh and final sign, “so that you may believe,” and so that the ancient vision may be all the more vividly enacted: “You shall know that I am the LORD when I open your graves” (John 11:15; Ezekiel 37:13).
4) In the Ezekiel reading, it’s “the spirit [Hebrew ruah, ‘breath, spirit’] of the LORD” who gives life, and in a sense is life: “I will cause breath [ruah] to enter you, and you shall live” (Ezekiel 37:1,5). Likewise, for John, Jesus not only causes Lazarus’ resurrection, he somehow is resurrection: “I am the resurrection and the life,” he says to Martha (John 11:25).
5) And though Martha then calls him “the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world,” she doesn’t yet grasp what this enigmatic claim, “I am the resurrection and the life,” might mean. When Jesus commands the stone to be rolled away from the tomb, Martha’s still skeptical: she points to the stench as evidence that Lazarus is truly, completely, four-days-worth dead. Jesus turns to her and says, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” (John 11:40).
6) The key to the passage, and in a sense to John’s Gospel as a whole, is contained in this question. Jesus isn’t saying, If you believe, the glory of God will shine. After all, despite Martha’s skepticism, Jesus raises Lazarus; God’s glory shines forth in any case! The issue is whether or not Martha will truly see it. She’ll see her brother raised from the dead, that’s for sure — but will she see it for what it truly is, “the glory of God,” a signpost pointing to Jesus’ identity and mission? If she believes in Jesus as “the resurrection and the life,” and so interprets her brother’s rising as a glimpse of that larger reality, she will. She will see God’s glory. She will catch sight of Jesus’ identity and mission. She will understand her brother’s rising as an icon, a window into something even bigger: the seventh and final “sign” before the descent to the cross.
Takeaways:
1) St. Augustine, the fourth-century North African bishop, writes of “faith seeking understanding.” It’s not that we understand everything first, and then determine whether or not to trust. Rather, in many cases, it’s only by seeing through the eyes of trust in the first place that we have an opportunity to see and understand what’s really going on. John conceives faith in a similar way. Accordingly, the seven “signs” in John (and the eighth, Jesus’ resurrection) point beyond themselves to even bigger, deeper realities about who Jesus is and what he’s all about. Faith, we might say, is a pair of glasses through which we can see dimensions of God’s glory we might otherwise miss.
2) Jesus famously taught through parables, but virtually all of his parables are found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke — not John. Instead, in John it’s as though Jesus shapes events around him into living, breathing parables, “signs” through which larger realities can be glimpsed. He’s like an icon painter, but his board and paints are the world around him. In his first iconic sign, he turns water into wine at a wedding — precisely, John explains, to “reveal his glory,” so that “his disciples believed in him” (John 2:11). And now, in his seventh sign, he “opens a grave,” shaping events by delaying his return to Bethany, weeping with the mourners, and revealing his identity as “resurrection” itself, as “life” itself, as God’s Word made flesh, the Logos of springtime at the heart of the world.
3) For the powers that be, it’s too much. This seventh icon is too vivid, too clear an evocation of Ezekiel. Surely the people, once they get wind of it, will be stirred and inspired to rise up (indeed, the crowds of Palm Sunday confirm as much; see John 12:9). And just as surely, the local authorities reason, Rome will crack down with a vengeance. To protect the people, to preserve the temple, Jesus must be sacrificed. In a broken, corrupt, upside-down world, even the best intentions can lead to unthinkable consequences. In the name of protecting life, the powers arise to strike down “resurrection” itself.
4) And right there, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear, is the good news of the Gospel this week. For the one thing in the world that cannot be struck down and kept down is “the resurrection and the life”! As we enter this year’s Holy Week, we can do so with Jesus’ and Ezekiel’s words ringing in our ears. Lazarus rising is an icon, a preview of Jesus rising. The death-dealing powers are no match for the God of Life. Night will fall — but Easter’s dawn, the shining glory of God, will rise!
Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episode on these passages: “Jesus, Wendell, and Henri - Part Five: Cross.”