This pericope begins a new section in the Gospel. The reader has seen the confession of the Son of God (5:1–8:11) and the ensuing controversy over the Son of God (8:12–10:42) and is given in this section of the Gospel a dramatic conclusion to the public ministry of Jesus (11:1–12:50). At the literary level, there is a strong break at 10:42, with the final verses of chapter 10 serving as a large inclusio, with the public ministry of Jesus beginning and ending with the witness of the Baptist (1:19–10:42).1 At the same time, the clear connections with what has just occurred makes certain that the narrator uses these two final chapters to conclude Jesus’s public presence. Jesus is done speaking publicly; his last public acts will sufficiently display who he is (his person) and what he is about (his work). In this pericope, Jesus’s message centers upon a significant miracle, the sixth sign (cf. 11:47), which serves as a clear demonstration of the truth already declared in the Gospel that it is the Son who gives life (cf. 5:21). In this way, the public receives further visible evidence of his invisible nature, and the reader receives greater insight into the unique Son of God.
Jesus is the resurrection and the life, the one who has defeated death and who uses the sufferings of sin for his good purposes and glory. God demonstrates his love in this in that while the world was dying to sin, Christ gave it life.
This pericope corresponds to the basic story form, although it could have been given a much more complicated structure with its dual-rising conflict and resolution (see Introduction).2 The introduction/setting is established in vv. 1–16, explaining the location, setting, and people around whom the plot’s conflict will focus. In vv. 17–37 the conflict (or conflicts) of the pericope is placed in front of Jesus, having a dual focus: the death of Lazarus and the crisis of faith among those present (Lazarus’s sisters as well as some of “the Jews”). In vv. 38–44 the conflict(s) is given resolution by the resurrection of Lazarus and the exhortation for a “resurrection of belief” given to Lazarus’s sisters.3 Finally, vv. 45–57 offer the conclusion/interpretation to the pericope by placing it within the context of Jesus’s public ministry, with a detailed description of the (prophetic) response of the Jews toward this sixth “sign” of Jesus.
The depth and beauty of this pericope has unfortunately made it fodder for biblical critics, especially source critics, who have difficulty accepting it without reconciling it with the rest of the biblical tradition.4 This is almost certainly because this story is only found in the Gospel of John, which to some already makes it suspect, but also because it is the most spectacular miracle in all four Gospels. Why does it not appear in the other three Gospels? A good amount of comparative work has already tried to find the material links between this pericope and other biblical material, primarily in the Synoptic Gospels,5 but also in the Johannine tradition.6 While there is some value to these questions and comparisons, there is no perfect solution. The material history (i.e., sources, tradition) of this pericope is as removed from the reader (and interpreter) as the power needed to raise Lazarus from the dead (on method, see Introduction). This miracle is not entirely unique in John but comfortably fits within the developing narrative as the climactic sixth sign, a capstone for the previous five signs and the narrative’s cornerstone for the seventh and final “sign” of the Gospel (see comments before 20:1).
11:1 There was a man who was sick, Lazarus from Bethany, from the village of Mary and Martha, her sister (Ἦν δέ τις ἀσθενῶν, Λάζαρος ἀπὸ Βηθανίας, ἐκ τῆς κώμης Μαρίας καὶ Μάρθας τῆς ἀδελφῆς αὐτῆς). The pericope starts with an introduction of the primary characters in the story. The narrator describes Lazarus as a man “who was sick” (ἀσθενῶν), without giving any indication of the nature of the sickness. The uniqueness of this miracle in the four Gospels has led several scholars to connect this Lazarus to the Lazarus in Luke’s parable of the rich man and Lazarus (16:19–31), but the lack of any thematic connection and the popularity of the name makes this highly unlikely.7
It is important to note that the narrator moves quickly from the sick Lazarus, the person the action of the pericope will focus upon, to Mary and Martha. Even more, while v. 2 will make the family connection between Lazarus and the sisters, here the family connection is only made between Mary and Martha. The focus of the story is surprisingly on the sisters—not Lazarus—and especially on Mary in this verse, who is listed as the primary relation both here and in v. 2 in reference to Lazarus. The appearance of the sisters in another Gospel (Luke 10:38–42) might explain the initial focus on them by the narrator, for it may already be assumed that they were known by the reader.8
The narrator also centers this story on the location of these related characters, “Bethany” (Βηθανίας), placing both Lazarus and the sisters in relation to this particular “village” (τῆς κώμης). The village of Bethany, which is on the east side of the Mount of Olives and about two miles from Jerusalem (see v. 18), has not been mentioned in the Gospel before and must be distinguished from the Bethany of 1:28 (and alluded to in 10:40–42).9
11:2 It was Mary who had anointed the Lord with perfume and had wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother, Lazarus, was sick (ἦν δὲ Μαριὰμ ἡ ἀλείψασα τὸν κύριον μύρῳ καὶ ἐκμάξασα τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ ταῖς θριξὶν αὐτῆς, ἧς ὁ ἀδελφὸς Λάζαρος ἠσθένει). The narrator adds a parenthetical statement in his introduction to explain further the identity of the Bethany family, especially Mary. The focus on Mary is likely because of the dramatic encounter between her and Jesus recorded in the Synoptics. The accounts can only be hesitantly compiled, for while the setting (Bethany) fits the account in Mark 14:3–9 (= Matt 26:6–13), the actions (specifically the wiping of the feet) fit the account in Luke 7:36–50. It is best to assume that the Fourth Gospel was written with readers in mind who were aware of the other Gospels (see comments on 3:24).
The connection of this previous encounter between the previously anonymous Mary and Jesus is more than a little significant for the story about to be told. Rather than being a meaningless addition or even a “clumsy introduction,”10 the narrator has established for the reader the intimate relational connection between Jesus and the Bethany family, specifically with both sisters (Luke 10:38–42), and especially Mary (Mark 14:3–9; Matt 26:6–13), who was heralded for her devotion (Mark 14:9). The upcoming request of the sisters in the next verse is no naive request, but the prayer of devoted and exemplary disciples. This explains why v. 1 moved so quickly from Lazarus to focus on Mary (and her sister, Martha). The response of Jesus, not merely the plight of Lazarus, will move to center stage.
11:3 Then the sisters sent to him saying, “Lord, we want you to know that the one whom you love is sick” (ἀπέστειλαν οὖν αἱ ἀδελφαὶ πρὸς αὐτὸν λέγουσαι, Κύριε, ἴδε ὃν φιλεῖς ἀσθενεῖ). The intimate relationship between Jesus and the Bethany family implied by vv. 1–2 is made certain in v. 3. The narrator explains that “the sisters” (αἱ ἀδελφαὶ) sent a message to Jesus to inform him of their brother’s sickness. The family clearly has close ties to Jesus, evidenced not only by the assumption that they could communicate their situation to Jesus but also by their access to him.
While the title “Lord” (Κύριε) could be simply translated as “sir,” the intimacy between Jesus and the family suggests that the sisters are relating to him in a manner that extends beyond polite respect. The word translated more loosely as “we want you to know” (ἴδε) is often merely translated as “behold” or “look,” but in this context is “arousing the attention” of Jesus in an emphatic way and therefore can be expressed this way in light of the context.11 This “message is an indirect request that Jesus should come and heal the sick man.”12 The sisters are speaking with affectionate reverence to Jesus, beckoning him to “see” their plight.
Interestingly, the sisters do not speak of their brother by his name, Lazarus, but as “the one whom you love” (ὃν φιλεῖς). While some have taken this phrase to help identify the Beloved Disciple and potentially the author of the Gospel of John (see Introduction), the designation has a clear narrative function here. In light of vv. 1–2, the statement reflects the real and intimate relationship between Jesus and Lazarus and, even more, between Jesus and the Bethany family. The entire Gospel has depicted the love that God has in general for the world (cf. 3:16), but in this moment and for the first time in the Gospel, an individual is described as being loved by God. The narrative is carefully revealing to the reader that the sickness of Lazarus is only part of the conflict of the pericope, for the conflict now also includes the love of God and the nature of its expression.
11:4 After hearing this Jesus said, “This sickness is not for the purpose of death but for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (ἀκούσας δὲ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν, Αὕτη ἡ ἀσθένεια οὐκ ἔστιν πρὸς θάνατον ἀλλ’ ὑπὲρ τῆς δόξης τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα δοξασθῇ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ δι’ αὐτῆς). After receiving the message from the sisters, Jesus offers a response that overlaps significantly with what he said earlier to his disciples in regard to the man born blind (see comments on 9:3). Like 9:3, Jesus sees the plight of the Bethany family in a different way and entirely through the lens of “purpose.” While the function of the preposition “for the purpose of” (πρὸς) could be result and not purpose (with BDAG preferring the former), the difference is slight at best and the meaning only established in view of the larger context.13 The larger sense seems to be less that the sickness “would not lead to death” and more “is not for the purpose of death.” The fact that Lazarus does die might further suggest that the meaning of this phrase was less result and more purpose. In other words, Jesus speaks less about the conclusion of the sickness and more about the intention of the sickness. And this important interpretation of the sickness of Lazarus will be necessary to explain the actions of Jesus to follow.
What is the intention of the sickness? Two things become clear. First, it is not about death but “the glory of God” (τῆς δόξης τοῦ θεοῦ). Just as the first sign was intended to reveal “his glory” (2:11), and the prologue claims a vision of “his glory” (1:14), so also the plight of Lazarus and the Bethany family is intended to make known, reveal, and magnify the glory of God. In light of its OT context, “glory” is “the manifestation of God’s being, nature and presence” (see comments on 1:14).14 In many ways, then, Jesus not only foreshadows what he is about to make manifest through the plight of Lazarus but also what all who believe are intended to see when they look at his creation, and more specifically, when they look at Jesus (cf. 20:31).
Second, it is not about Lazarus but about the “Son of God” (ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ). The glory of God is ultimately exhibited by and expressed in “the Son of God,” so that when one gives glory to the Son the entire Trinity is glorified. By this statement the reader is again reminded that everything God wanted to do and to show has been placed at the feet of the Son, the one through whom the Father is known (1:1; cf. Heb 1:1–2).
11:5 Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus (ἠγάπα δὲ ὁ Ἰησοῦς τὴν Μάρθαν καὶ τὴν ἀδελφὴν αὐτῆς καὶ τὸν Λάζαρον). In light of the previous statement, this description of the love of Jesus for the Bethany family is remarkable, for it demands that the reader not see the purpose of God—even displayed through the plight of Lazarus—as outside the intention with which God loves the world and the people in it.15 The fact that the narrator adds this parenthetical statement gives support to reading v. 4 as a claim by Jesus to embrace and include within his mission and purpose the difficulties of life, even death. With the narrator’s direction the reader is corrected from a possible misinterpretation of v. 4 and v. 6.16
11:6 However, when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he remained in the place where he was two days (ὡς οὖν ἤκουσεν ὅτι ἀσθενεῖ, τότε μὲν ἔμεινεν ἐν ᾧ ἦν τόπῳ δύο ἡμέρας). Without any explanation, the narrator describes how Jesus, even after hearing about Lazarus’s plight, stayed where he was “two days” (δύο ἡμέρας). It is significant that the motive for the delay is not stated. It is common for interpreters to reconstruct the reasons motivating the delay. Yet there is little warrant for basing an interpretation upon possible but entirely unknown (and unstated) variables.
For this reason v. 5—which reminds the reader of the love of Christ for those involved in this crisis—is so significant, especially coming between v. 4 and v. 6 as it does. Quite simply, if God is intentional with the event of sickness and death, he can also be intentional with his response to such events. The mode in which God works, even if different than expected, must not be attributed to incompetence or insensitivity but as befitting his greater purposes, even if unseen.17 In a moment of crisis, the “however” of God (v. 6) is not to be believed more than the “love” of God (v. 5).
11:7 Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again” (ἔπειτα μετὰ τοῦτο λέγει τοῖς μαθηταῖς, Ἄγωμεν εἰς τὴν Ἰουδαίαν πάλιν). After the two-day delay, Jesus announced to his disciples that it was time to go back to Judea. The double note about time, “then” (ἔπειτα) and “after this” (μετὰ τοῦτο), places emphasis on the delay.18 Jesus mentions “Judea” not “Bethany” because it was in the general region of Judea that Jesus had encountered severe opposition (7:1).
11:8 The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews are now seeking to stone you, and you are going there again?” (λέγουσιν αὐτῷ οἱ μαθηταί, Ῥαββί, νῦν ἐζήτουν σε λιθάσαι οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι, καὶ πάλιν ὑπάγεις ἐκεῖ;). Aware of the intention of the Jews to bring the ministry (and influence) of Jesus to an end, the disciples offer advice to Jesus that serves as a counter to his just-announced plan. For the last time in the Gospel, the disciples address Jesus as “Rabbi” (Ῥαββί), an honorific title (see comments on 1:38) that the reader cannot help but see as nearsighted. The Gospel does not want the reader to believe in a “rabbi” but in “the Christ, the Son of God” (20:31). It is not merely his title that will be expanded but his intention. Rather than avoiding the murderous intentions of the Jews in Judea, it was for this very reason that Christ came to the world. In a unique twist, the narrative places before the reader a paradoxical comparison: the death Jesus is about to remove from the body of Lazarus he will not do for himself. In fact, as the reader is beginning to grasp, it is only by means of Jesus’s death that true life can ever be given, not just to Lazarus or his sisters or the disciples, but to the whole world. While the death of Lazarus will give Jesus the opportunity to prove he loves the Bethany family (v. 5), the death of Jesus will give God the opportunity to prove he loves the whole world (cf. 3:16).19
11:9 Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours during the day? If a person is walking in the day he will not stumble, because he sees the light of this world” (ἀπεκρίθη Ἰησοῦς, Οὐχὶ δώδεκα ὧραί εἰσιν τῆς ἡμέρας; ἐάν τις περιπατῇ ἐν τῇ ἡμέρᾳ, οὐ προσκόπτει, ὅτι τὸ φῶς τοῦ κόσμου τούτου βλέπει). Jesus responds to the misguided concern of his disciples with an illustration that explains what the disciples are misunderstanding.20 In the ancient world, time was much less precise and counted generally by the amount of daylight, which for both Jews and Romans was divided into twelve equal “hours” which occupied the whole period between sunrise and sunset.21 The illustration therefore depicts the time, established naturally—by God—for a person to move, work, and live. Outside of that time, that is, at night, movement is hindered (even dangerous) and therefore limited (see v. 10; cf. 9:4).
11:10 “But if a person walks in the night he will stumble, because the light is not in him” (ἐὰν δέ τις περιπατῇ ἐν τῇ νυκτί, προσκόπτει, ὅτι τὸ φῶς οὐκ ἔστιν ἐν αὐτῷ). Jesus concludes the illustration by describing the inability of a person who attempts to walk in the night. Again, the reason that is given employs a play on words: “The light is not in him” (τὸ φῶς οὐκ ἔστιν ἐν αὐτῷ). Rather than saying the person “has no light” (an external condition), Jesus declares that the light is not “in him” (an internal condition). The real issue, according to this play on words, is the internal condition of the person, the darkness of the person. In this way, the reader is reminded of the state of humanity declared by the prologue and the centrality of Jesus as “the light of humanity” (1:4–5).22
By this statement Jesus has not only redefined the solution but also redefined the problem. The problem is not the Jews or the threat of death, just as the sickness—even death—of Lazarus is not the real problem. The real problem is the cosmological problem that the ministry of Jesus as a whole was addressing, the solution to which was found in his body, his flesh (1:14). Ironically, the disciples (and all Christians) could not be more secure as they enter life-threatening situations (e.g., Judea), than when they are right where they are supposed to be: “In him.” The love of Christ (v. 5) is not to be defined by our location in regard to danger and death but by our location in regard to Christ, befitting his purposes and his glory (v. 4).
11:11 He said this, and after this said to them, “Lazarus, our friend, has fallen asleep, but I am going in order to wake him up” (ταῦτα εἶπεν, καὶ μετὰ τοῦτο λέγει αὐτοῖς, Λάζαρος ὁ φίλος ἡμῶν κεκοίμηται, ἀλλὰ πορεύομαι ἵνα ἐξυπνίσω αὐτόν). Jesus now gives the specific reason for their return to Judea. The fact that Lazarus is referred to as “our friend” (ὁ φίλος ἡμῶν) by Jesus reinforces the established relationship between Jesus and the Bethany family (cf. v. 3), for even the disciples consider him a friend. According to Jesus, Lazarus has “fallen asleep” (κεκοίμηται), which in the ancient world was used metaphorically to speak of death. In the NT, the term is used four times to speak of literal sleep and fourteen times to speak of death.23 The multiple senses of “sleep” and “wake up” (ἐξυπνίσω) are about to be explained in the verses to follow.
11:12 Then the disciples said to him, “Lord, if he sleeps he will be better” (εἶπαν οὖν οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτῷ, Κύριε, εἰ κεκοίμηται σωθήσεται). The disciples clearly misunderstand Jesus’s statement regarding Lazarus. He is not taking a nap; he is dead. The disciples are almost offering encouragement to Jesus, suggesting that the rest will do him good. What is significant, however, is not merely what the disciples say, but the way in which their statement offers an interpretation of Jesus’s statement. The disciples obviously interpreted Jesus’s statement as less severe than death. While they were clearly confused at a medical level, they were hardly wrong in their interpretation of what Jesus had said. The plain sense and tone of Jesus’s statement must have expressed not dire concern but the description of something that can (and would!) be overcome. Jesus would “wake” Lazarus from his rest. In that sense, the disciples understood Jesus perfectly.
11:13 But Jesus had been speaking about his death, but they thought he was speaking about natural sleep (εἰρήκει δὲ ὁ Ἰησοῦς περὶ τοῦ θανάτου αὐτοῦ. ἐκεῖνοι δὲ ἔδοξαν ὅτι περὶ τῆς κοιμήσεως τοῦ ὕπνου λέγει). The narrator intrudes again and offers another significant parenthetical statement, as in v. 5, which guides the reader to the correct interpretation of the scene and its meaning. It is common for interpreters to highlight what the disciples got wrong, specifically the misinterpretation of the word that can mean both “sleep” and “death.”24 But the confusion is not to be unexpected, and the exchange might be better viewed as another example of Jesus’s playful and rhetorical use of words. The narrator is helping the reader to understand Jesus, not the disciples, making sure that the significance of what was just said be applied correctly to what is about to take place.25
The significance of this clarification of what Jesus understands to be happening with Lazarus is vitally important for the reader. While the use of “sleep” for death was not a Christian invention, for it is also found in ancient secular writings, it was much more characteristic of Christians.26 When Jesus described Lazarus’s condition, he used a word that embraced the historically perceived condition of Lazarus with the cosmological vision of the Son of Man, about whom the prologue declared, “In the Word was life” (1:4). Augustine suggests the same when he writes, “It was in reference to His own power that He spoke of him as sleeping.”27 To the disciples (and to the honest reader), Lazarus’s status had separated him from his sisters and placed him in the custody of that which comes after this life, but to Jesus Lazarus had not even come close to leaving the Son’s custody or domain, for the Father has given the authority of life and death to the Son (5:22–29).
11:14 So then Jesus said to them plainly, “Lazarus is dead” (τότε οὖν εἶπεν αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰησοῦς παρρησίᾳ, Λάζαρος ἀπέθανεν). By beginning with “so then” (τότε οὖν), the narrative shows the chronological progression of the dialogue, helping the reader make sense of the change in Jesus’s explanation.28 The narrator’s introduction to Jesus’s statement is itself evidence that Jesus had spoken at first to the disciples in a rhetorically significant expression or mode. The use of the adverb “plainly” (παρρησίᾳ) confirms that Jesus had previously spoken to the disciples with intentional symbolism (see comments on 10:6). In a sense, Jesus first spoke with regard to the cosmological plot involving Lazarus but now speaks at the level of the historical plot. That is why the narrator’s instruction in v. 13 is so important for the reader, for it explains what Jesus had in mind; it explains the connection Jesus was making between his person and life and death.
11:15 “And I rejoice for you that I was not there, in order that you might believe. But let us go to him” (καὶ χαίρω δι’ ὑμᾶς, ἵνα πιστεύσητε, ὅτι οὐκ ἤμην ἐκεῖ· ἀλλὰ ἄγωμεν πρὸς αὐτόν). This is a remarkable statement by Jesus that is entirely dependent on our interpretation of the previous verses. Taken on its own, even in context, it is marked by a certain degree of harshness. Even though Jesus is not glad that Lazarus is dead, his ability to rejoice in it for the sake of others, as if Lazarus’s death were a means to an end, is difficult to understand. Attempts to explain the grammar or to provide an alternate sense of the words fail to provide an adequate solution.29 Jesus’s statement can only be understood when one apprehends what he has already implied about death; namely, that death is not the end and is not supposed to be viewed as such. Like the plight of the blind man in 9:1–3, Jesus speaks with a cosmological vision that demands the subordination of all human circumstance and reality. Clearly Jesus is not using Lazarus for another end—he loves Lazarus (v. 5). At the same time, Jesus the Word, the one through whom all things were made (1:3), is in absolute control of all things, unbound by circumstance and time—even life and death—and cannot help but see the work of God and the value of God in all things.
Our interpretation is given merit by Jesus’s exhortation to his disciples, “Let us go to him” (ἄγωμεν πρὸς αὐτόν). The choice of words is striking. Jesus does not suggest a return to Lazarus’s sisters but specifically “to him,” as if he were not dead but still living.30 This prepositional phrase explains the manner in which Jesus has been addressing the entire Lazarus plight. The tension depicted by this pericope between death and love in vv. 4–6 and death and life in vv. 11–14 is solved in the person and work of Jesus (cf. Rom 8:38–39). It is worth noting that this verse offers unparalleled insight into a source of joy for God. With this verse, the reader learns that the faith his disciples place in him is what brings joy to God. God rejoices when we trust him.
11:16 Then Thomas (called Didymus) said to his fellow disciples: “Let us go also in order that we may die with him” (εἶπεν οὖν Θωμᾶς ὁ λεγόμενος Δίδυμος τοῖς συμμαθηταῖς, Ἄγωμεν καὶ ἡμεῖς ἵνα ἀποθάνωμεν μετ’ αὐτοῦ). The introduction and setting of the pericope concludes with this important statement by Thomas. The disciple named Thomas is known more for his doubting than his courageous belief (see comments on 20:24–29). The narrator’s explanatory addition of “called Didymus” (ὁ λεγόμενος Δίδυμος), which means “twin,” is almost certainly the provision of his nickname and the name by which he was more generally known. There is no need to speculate regarding his twin, as though his nickname would not make sense on its own; his twin may well have had nothing to do with Jesus and his public following.31 As implied by the scene, Thomas is “one of the Twelve” (20:24), and his exhortation to “his fellow disciples” (τοῖς συμμαθηταῖς), a term that only occurs here in the NT, is probably intended to reflect the feeling of the entire group.32
Thomas’s statement serves as a reminder to the reader that the disciples’ original concern was that the place where Lazarus had died and the place to where they must now go—Judea—was the same place where the Jews were even now trying to kill Jesus (cf. v. 8). In one sense, the statement completely overlooks what Jesus had just finished saying in regard to the plight of Lazarus that even death was under the authority of the Son of Man. Yet in another sense, the statement is a faithful response to the “rejoicing” of Jesus in v. 14. Thomas is motivated to respond to Jesus in a fitting manner, even if it involves loss. While such a response is honorable and a sign of vigorous faith (v. 14), it is clearly misguided in one important way. It is not their lives but the life of Jesus that is to suffer loss. By speaking beyond what he himself could see or understand, Thomas exhorts all believers to believe in Christ, even when such belief extends beyond oneself.33 In this way the introduction and setting of this lengthy pericope comes to an end.
11:17 After he arrived, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days (Ἐλθὼν οὖν ὁ Ἰησοῦς εὗρεν αὐτὸν τέσσαρας ἤδη ἡμέρας ἔχοντα ἐν τῷ μνημείῳ). The conflict of the pericope begins the moment Jesus arrives on the scene. For all the details not provided by the narrator, the insight regarding the four days Lazarus had already spent in the tomb is significant. The four days will not only become significant as the narrative develops, but they also confirm that Lazarus is truly dead. Lazarus is not simply sick or near death; he is already in the process of decay (cf. v. 39). There is no room for the “swoon theory” here.
11:18 Bethany was near Jerusalem, about two miles away (ἦν δὲ ἡ Βηθανία ἐγγὺς τῶν Ἱεροσολύμων ὡς ἀπὸ σταδίων δεκαπέντε). The geographic details are given so as to explain the visit of many Jews in v. 19. Yet it also serves to locate Jesus near Jerusalem, the place where Jesus’s ministry will find its conclusion. According to the narrator, Bethany was a distance of “fifteen” (δεκαπέντε) stadia (σταδίων); a stadion was the length of a Roman stadium, which was about 197 meters or about 607 feet.34 Thus, Bethany was between 1.7 and 1.85 miles from Jerusalem, hence our translation “about two miles away.”
11:19 And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary in order to comfort them in regard to their brother (πολλοὶ δὲ ἐκ τῶν Ἰουδαίων ἐληλύθεισαν πρὸς τὴν Μάρθαν καὶ Μαριὰμ ἵνα παραμυθήσωνται αὐτὰς περὶ τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ). This verse provides further context for the conflict of the pericope. The disciples had already voiced their concern about returning to Judea because of the threats against Jesus’s life (v. 8), and the narrator’s depiction of the presence of “the Jews” reminds the reader of the Gospel’s larger conflict regarding Jesus. In light of the Gospel’s depiction of “the Jews” as antagonists and opponents of Jesus (see comments on 1:19), their more favorable and neutral presence here is important to note. At the level of the narrative, the presence of “the Jews” connects Jesus and the Lazarus event to the Jewish authorities later in the pericope (see vv. 45–46). But their presence also helps situate the ministry of Jesus in its very Jewish context, magnifying the tension that Jesus had already created in and around Jerusalem.
The narrator explains that the Jews had come for the purpose of comforting the family. It was required in first-century Judaism that the deceased be buried on the day of death (cf. the immediate burial of Ananias and Sapphira in Acts 5:5–6, 10), which was followed by six further days of mourning (for a total of seven), known as shiva (i.e., “seven days”), during which the bereaved family would remain at home while others came to supply food and express sympathy.35 “The Jews,” in spite of all their failings thus far in the Gospel, are depicted as faithful to their religious tradition and to their friends/neighbors by attending to the needs of Martha and Mary.
11:20 Then Martha, when she heard that Jesus was coming, went out to meet him, but Mary was remaining in the house (ἡ οὖν Μάρθα ὡς ἤκουσεν ὅτι Ἰησοῦς ἔρχεται ὑπήντησεν αὐτῷ· Μαριὰμ δὲ ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ ἐκαθέζετο). The narrative now turns its attention to the sisters of Lazarus, who will be involved in a significant dialogue with Jesus for the remainder of the scene (vv. 17–37). The narrator offers an interesting insight into the sisters by describing their response to the news that Jesus was arriving at their home. Our translation of the verb “went out to meet” (ὑπήντησεν) treats it as an ingressive rather than a constative aorist, which places the focus of the description on the detailed response of Martha.36
Some interpreters have argued that the reason Martha left the house and went to Jesus is because he was hiding outside of the village for fear of “the Jews” and waiting for a safe escort to her home. This interpretation often highlights v. 30 as further evidence that Jesus was afraid to go to the house because of the Jews. But not only does this response find no comparison in the rest of the Gospel’s portrayal of Jesus’s concerns and fears, but it also disregards the rebuke Jesus had just given to his disciples for their own such fears (vv. 8–10). The reason Jesus did not go to the home is because it was not time for ceremonial and religious mourning (see comments on v. 30). Martha’s response is rather a reflection of her devotion to Jesus. Although it would have been expected according to religious custom for Martha to remain in her home and let Jesus come to her and express his sympathy, she paid him great respect by going out to greet him, even at the cost of offending those who had already come to her and her sister. In the ancient world one would honor a person by meeting them as they approached and conducting them to their destination.37
In what is probably intended to be a form of contrast, while Martha had departed to meet Jesus, Mary “was remaining” (ἐκαθέζετο) in the house, a verb which can also be translated as “was sitting.”38 The point of contrast need not be taken to mean that Mary’s faith or commitment to Jesus was inferior, for Mary was clearly following protocol in regard to the religious and ceremonial procedures following the death of her brother.39 What’s more, Mary is quick to respond to Jesus in vv. 29–31, which might suggest she had not even heard of Jesus’s arrival. But this does not mean that a contrast was not implied.40 As the interaction to follow will reveal, both sisters were dealing with the reality of death and the nature of grief at different levels. Perhaps more importantly, both sisters will also deal with Jesus differently, and Jesus was about to address them both in a manner that befitted not only their needs but also his person and work.
11:21 Then Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (εἶπεν οὖν ἡ Μάρθα πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν, Κύριε, εἰ ἦς ὧδε οὐκ ἂν ἀπέθανεν ὁ ἀδελφός μου). The respect Martha paid to Jesus by going out to greet him is counterbalanced by her first-recorded words for him. While several interpreters take her statement as “an expression of faith,”41 by speaking in the form of a conditional statement Martha is actually offering an indirect rebuke, especially when examined using speech act theory.42 Conditional sentences are often employed to communicate indirectly what would be harsh if communicated directly; the protasis (the if-clause) serves as “a mitigator or politeness marker.”43 What Martha was implicitly saying to Jesus was, “Lord, you should have been here!”
11:22 “But even now I know that whatever you ask God, God will give to you” ([ἀλλὰ] καὶ νῦν οἶδα ὅτι ὅσα ἂν αἰτήσῃ τὸν θεὸν δώσει σοι ὁ θεός). For the interpreters who take v. 21 as an expression of faith, this verse is “puzzling,”44 primarily because in v. 39 Martha will not express the high faith these words might imply. But by taking v. 21 as an indirect rebuke of Jesus, this verse offers further clarification. Martha’s statement is correct in what it affirms. Jesus has real and current—“even now” (καὶ νῦν)—access to God; about this Martha is certain (“I know” [οἶδα]). However, Martha’s statement is incorrect about what it implicitly denies, for it fails to reflect true faith in Jesus, the Son of God. By using “generic God” language as she stands before God the Son, Martha reveals an inadequate understanding of Jesus Christ, the one to whom God has given authority to render judgment, because he is the Son of Man (5:27).
11:23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise” (λέγει αὐτῇ ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Ἀναστήσεται ὁ ἀδελφός σου). In the context of a rebuke, Jesus begins his response to Martha. Without correcting her confusion, Jesus speaks on the authority he has received from the Father. Although several translations have “will rise again,” the addition of “again”—a word not in the Greek—attempts to clarify what is clearly an ambiguous statement, as Martha’s interpretation of it makes clear (v. 24). The ambiguity is not intended to be a play between final resurrection, as Martha takes it, and the immediate resurrection of Lazarus about to transpire, but is intended as a statement that encompasses both. Jesus himself—in the eternally established power and authority of his person as the Son of Man—is resurrection (v. 25).
11:24 Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise in the resurrection in the last day” (λέγει αὐτῷ ἡ Μάρθα, Οἶδα ὅτι ἀναστήσεται ἐν τῇ ἀναστάσει ἐν τῇ ἐσχάτῃ ἡμέρᾳ). Jesus’s words are again mistakenly understood (see vv. 11–14). Martha believes that Jesus speaks on the linear-historical level about the resurrection at the end of human history, a belief common in Judaism (though a point of debate between Pharisees and Sadducees; cf. Mark 12:18–27; Acts 23:8; Josephus, J.W. 2.163). By these words Martha is finding solace in the promise of God that he will right all things in the end. One might even say that Martha’s words, “I know” (Οἶδα), contain an undertone of dissatisfaction.45 Was this to be Martha’s comfort, her solace “from above?” Not at all! Jesus was not offering solace in the final resurrection, as grand and true as that may (and should) be, but in his person, as his next words will make clear.
11:25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even if he dies” (εἶπεν αὐτῇ ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Ἐγώ εἰμι ἡ ἀνάστασις καὶ ἡ ζωή· ὁ πιστεύων εἰς ἐμὲ κἂν ἀποθάνῃ ζήσεται). Like with the disciples’ misunderstanding of his depiction of the death of Lazarus (cf. v. 14), Jesus now speaks to Martha plainly: “I am the resurrection and the life” (Ἐγώ εἰμι ἡ ἀνάστασις καὶ ἡ ζωή). This is the fifth of seven formal “I am” statements in the Gospel, each containing “I am” (Ἐγώ εἰμι) and a predicate (see comments on 6:35; cf. 8:58). These seven “I am” statements are emphatic descriptions of the person and ministry of Jesus and cumulatively form a detailed picture of Jesus Christ.
In the context of Jesus’s discussion with Martha, the occurrence of the “I am” statement is significant. Jesus does not say he will provide resurrection and life, but that he is resurrection and life. The combination of “resurrection and life” is also important. Since the former is more generally applied to the future (cf. v. 24) and the latter more generally applied to the present, their combination here demands that they both maintain an eschatological and present application. For example, “life” must now be understood to be “an eschatological phenomenon,”46 just as “resurrection” can no longer be confined to the resurrection “in the last day.” The two predicates, resurrection and life, speak to the same subject matter; “by a paradoxical mode of expression they remove the concepts of death and life into another sphere, for which human death and human life are only images and hints.”47 That is, Jesus’s statement here is only defined by the cosmological strand of the Gospel’s plot introduced by the prologue: “In the Word was life” (1:4). For this reason, “What to the Jews is a future hope is to Christians a present reality.”48
The connection between this paradoxical existence of resurrection and life and the Christian is located in faith in Jesus. Jesus offers this mode of existence to “the one who believes in me” (ὁ πιστεύων εἰς ἐμὲ). Here Jesus claims for himself the authority over life and death given to him by the Father (cf. 5:21–29). It is important to note that this resurrection and life are both coming and not yet; as Jesus explained it, “An hour comes and now is when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live” (5:25). In this way, “belief” in Jesus is faith placed in the person of Jesus, so that Jesus is both the promise of the provision of God for the future and the present reality of the provision of God. This is a paradoxical intrusion of the cosmological into the historical without contrast or contradiction.49
11:26 “And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” (καὶ πᾶς ὁ ζῶν καὶ πιστεύων εἰς ἐμὲ οὐ μὴ ἀποθάνῃ εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα· πιστεύεις τοῦτο;). After explaining the limitation of physical death (the historical), Jesus now explains the benefit of spiritual life (the cosmological): “Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die” (πᾶς ὁ ζῶν καὶ πιστεύων εἰς ἐμὲ οὐ μὴ ἀποθάνῃ εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα). While the first of the two parallel statements, “even if he dies,” is straightforward (found in v. 25), this second parallel statement oddly includes the phrase “everyone who lives” (ὁ ζῶν) instead of merely assuming that those who might believe would logically be alive. The reason is that the “life” of those who “believe in” Jesus is an entirely different life. It is not just that the Christian is given a different degree of life (more life—eternal life) but that they are given a different kind of life—a different life altogether.
The Christian life is life without the constraints of death. “Faith in Jesus does not make humans immortal. What it does bring about is that from this moment on they no longer live under the power of death.”50 The powerlessness of death over the believer is described with a redundant and emphatic expression that denies death its position of authority (“will never die” [οὐ μὴ ἀποθάνῃ εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα]; cf. 8:51). All such authority—over life and death itself—has been given by the Father to the Son, Jesus Christ (5:21–29). For this reason, belief in Jesus is the act of submitting to the authority of the Son of God, the creator of all things (1:3). This belief entails finding one’s end (death) secured in Jesus (both present and future) and one’s beginning (life) renewed and redefined in Jesus so that one is “free indeed” (8:36), unencumbered by the slavery of sin, having received the full rights of sonship in the house of God forever (8:34–35).
It is in light of the foregoing context that Jesus’s concluding question to Martha must be understood. The rebuke of Martha, even if only indirect (v. 21), is now seen by the reader to be a categorical misunderstanding. It was not Jesus’s presence that was the issue, as if had he been there this would not have happened. No, what was important was his position of authority over life and death, a position not confined by distance (a journey to Bethany) or time (four days in the tomb). Martha had made Jesus merely a divine steward. This was not only a misunderstanding regarding Jesus, but it was inappropriate belief in God. Faith in God is faith in Christ. For this reason Jesus concludes his robust declaration, the fifth “I am” statement, with a rejoinder in the form of a question to Martha—and to the reader: “Do you believe this?” (πιστεύεις τοῦτο;). The question is really asking, “Do you believe in me?” That is, Jesus asks Martha whether she believes in his person and work.
11:27 She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I have believed that you are the Christ, the Son of God who has come into the world” (λέγει αὐτῷ, Ναί, κύριε· ἐγὼ πεπίστευκα ὅτι σὺ εἶ ὁ Χριστὸς ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ ὁ εἰς τὸν κόσμον ἐρχόμενος). Martha responds with a collection of emphatics. The “Yes, Lord” (Ναί, κύριε) reveals the personal nature of her claim. What is slightly out of place is the perfect tense, “I have believed” (ἐγὼ πεπίστευκα), which is less fitting as a response than a present-tense verb would have been, which is why several versions translate it as a present (“I believe”; e.g., NIV; NRSV; ESV). The perfect gives force to the confession without demanding that Martha had already come to believe this about Jesus. (For a similar confession by Peter, see 6:69.) It is best to view Martha’s confessional statement as entirely focused on Jesus. In fact, Martha’s confession matches nearly word for word the confession that the Gospel desires for all of its readers (see 20:31). The additional element of Martha’s confession, “who has come into the world,” is clearly not unique to the Gospel as a whole. In fact, this addition is a core message of the entire Gospel from the prologue onward (e.g., 1:15, 27, 30; 4:25; 6:14; 12:13).51
11:28 And after she had said this, she went and quietly called Mary, her sister, saying, “The teacher is here and is calling for you” (Καὶ ταῦτα εἰποῦσα ἀπῆλθεν καὶ ἐφώνησεν Μαριὰμ τὴν ἀδελφὴν αὐτῆς λάθρᾳ εἰποῦσα, Ὁ διδάσκαλος πάρεστιν καὶ φωνεῖ σε). The narrative transitions from Martha to her sister Mary. After finishing her discussion with Jesus, Martha returns and informs Mary that Jesus has arrived. The narrator explains that Martha spoke to Mary “quietly” (λάθρᾳ), that is, privately or without others being aware.52 This may suggest that Martha was trying to draw Mary away from the ceremonial and religious mourning procedures she would have been expected to participate in. Martha calls Jesus “the teacher” (Ὁ διδάσκαλος), a term which might be a mere synonym for “rabbi” (see comments on 3:2). It may also be significant that Jesus is described as “calling” (φωνεῖ) or “summoning” Mary. The narrator does not give us a reason but simply describes how Jesus had not yet entered the village (v. 30). The narrator is careful to depict Jesus as outside of the ceremonial and religious mourning, for Jesus alone is the one who authorizes death and its ceremonies.
11:29 And when she heard that, she got up quickly and went to him (ἐκείνη δὲ ὡς ἤκουσεν ἠγέρθη ταχὺ καὶ ἤρχετο πρὸς αὐτόν). The narrator’s language suggests that Mary responded to her sister’s message without delay, as if she were getting up while Martha was still speaking. Although their responses to Jesus occur at different times (and in slightly different ways), clearly both respond in a timely manner. The contrast between the sisters’ encounters with Jesus is at least in part intended to depict the ongoing ceremonial and religious mourning taking place at their home and its distance from Jesus.
11:30 But Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him (οὔπω δὲ ἐληλύθει ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἰς τὴν κώμην, ἀλλ’ ἦν ἔτι ἐν τῷ τόπῳ ὅπου ὑπήντησεν αὐτῷ ἡ Μάρθα). The narrator again reminds the reader of the distance between Jesus and the ceremonial and religious mourning, explaining that Jesus had not yet entered the village but was still located where Martha had earlier met him. This statement is not intended to describe Jesus as timid and fearful of “the Jews” (see comments on v. 20), for certainly Jesus is not tempted to embrace a fear of the death and life he upholds by his own authority.
11:31 Then the Jews, who had been with her in the house and comforting her, saw that Mary got up quickly and went out, they followed her, thinking that she was going to the tomb in order to weep there (οἱ οὖν Ἰουδαῖοι οἱ ὄντες μετ’ αὐτῆς ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ καὶ παραμυθούμενοι αὐτήν, ἰδόντες τὴν Μαριὰμ ὅτι ταχέως ἀνέστη καὶ ἐξῆλθεν, ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῇ, δόξαντες ὅτι ὑπάγει εἰς τὸ μνημεῖον ἵνα κλαύσῃ ἐκεῖ). The departure of Mary from the ceremonial mourning attracted the attention of the other mourners, the Jews, who had come to comfort the Bethany family (see v. 19). The narrator describes how the Jews, upon noticing the quickness of Mary’s departure, suppose that she was moving the ceremonial mourning from her house to the tomb of Lazarus. Since family tombs were frequently near family residences,53 it is likely that they considered her immediate departure to the tomb as an intentional and formal development in the ceremony (cf. Wis 19:3).
11:32 When Mary came where Jesus was, after seeing him she fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you were here my brother would not have died” (ἡ οὖν Μαριὰμ ὡς ἦλθεν ὅπου ἦν Ἰησοῦς ἰδοῦσα αὐτὸν ἔπεσεν αὐτοῦ πρὸς τοὺς πόδας, λέγουσα αὐτῷ, Κύριε, εἰ ἦς ὧδε οὐκ ἄν μου ἀπέθανεν ὁ ἀδελφός). When Mary reaches Jesus, she says the exact same thing her sister Martha had said. As with Martha, this statement is an implicit chastisement of Jesus for not doing what he alone can do (see comments on v. 21). And similar to Martha, Mary combines her indirect rebuke of Jesus not with further words of faith in “God” (see v. 22) but with action. According to the narrator, “after seeing him” (ἰδοῦσα αὐτὸν) Mary “fell at his feet” (ἔπεσεν αὐτοῦ πρὸς τοὺς πόδας). The action must only be interpreted with extreme caution as either “greater devotion”54 or as nothing more than “the first step of faith, from which her sister advanced.”55 With what is probably an equally confused confession, Mary says with action what Martha said with words that Jesus is the God-connected solution (see v. 22).56 With her words she indirectly rebukes him, yet by her actions she overtly worships him.
11:33 When Jesus saw her weeping and the weeping of the Jews who had come with her, he was outraged in spirit and troubled in himself (Ἰησοῦς οὖν ὡς εἶδεν αὐτὴν κλαίουσαν καὶ τοὺς συνελθόντας αὐτῇ Ἰουδαίους κλαίοντας, ἐνεβριμήσατο τῷ πνεύματι καὶ ἐτάραξεν ἑαυτόν). Just as Jesus responded to the words of Martha with a formative statement of his own, he likewise responds to Mary’s actions. While v. 32 said nothing of Mary “weeping” (κλαίουσαν), here the narrator says that both Mary and “the Jews” were weeping in the presence of Jesus. With Mary at his feet weeping, the narrator describes the response of Jesus, which is notoriously difficult to interpret. Not only is it difficult to know exactly what Jesus was doing—the terminology is rare and difficult to define—but it is also difficult to know why he responded in such a manner. We must address these issues in turn.
First, what was the response of Jesus? The verb we’ve translated as “was outraged” (ἐνεβριμήσατο) is used in two basic ways: 1) as an expression of anger or displeasure, and 2) as an expression of emotion.57 While option (2) is common in English translations (“deeply moved” [ESV, NASB, NIV, RSV]; “groaned” [KJV, RV]; “sighed heavily/deeply” [NEB]; “deeply touched” [GNB]; “greatly disturbed” [NRSV]), in German translations option (1) is the dominant translation, established by Luther’s translation of the verb as “angry” (ergrimmen). Because the verb is unusual, it is difficult to know how to translate it, especially in this context, and even more so in regard to Jesus, the one who “loves” (v. 5). But the term cannot be flattened in a manner that makes a more comfortable (i.e., less angry) Jesus. In the majority of contexts in which it occurs, the verb expresses anger or displeasure, that is, option (1).58 This is almost unanimously agreed upon by interpreters.59 The only problem, then, is how to make sense of this in the context of the Lazarus story.
This is not to say, however, that option (2) does not have warrant, for certainly Jesus’s reaction could be taken as more about grief than anger. It is a mistake to make too large of a distinction between anger and grief, since these are not contradictory emotions. They are in fact components of each other (cf. Mark 3:5).60 Since neither of the verb’s meanings can be denied the term in this context, both can rightly find their place in the narrative development. Even if we might want to give more priority to one of the meanings, we should not be surprised to see the Gospel intending for the term to have multiple senses simultaneously (on “impressions,” see Introduction). While our translation of the verb gives a slight priority to anger, it attempts also to express the emotional response of the grief of Jesus.
Second, why did Jesus respond in this manner? Usually the answer to this question is partly resolved by the interpreted sense of the verb, whether it refers to grief or anger. Is Jesus responding to the grief of the sisters (and perhaps the Jews as well),61 or is he angry at death and the sin that caused it and perhaps also the unbelief that is the root of all sin? At the level of the meaning of the verb, the “impressions” it creates allows for both possibilities; certainly the pericope suggests a more complex “impression” than an either/or decision allows.62 This is not to be vague in our interpretation but to allow the pericope, and the entire Gospel narrative, to explain the nature of Jesus’s reaction.
Since the narrator prefaces the response of Jesus with the twice-stated “weeping” of Mary and the Jews, certainly Jesus’s response is in part a coparticipatory response. At that moment, Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, was embracing the circumstances and plight of his people. Such a moment is commentary on the prologue’s declaration that “the Word became flesh,” when the Word took on the sinful and broken condition of the world and when the Light had come to live in the darkness (see comments on 1:14). At the same time, however, the larger context of the Gospel would also suggest that Jesus was not just sharing the grief of his people but “was outraged” at the condition of sin and disbelief. The insight the reader has been given by the prologue, with the historical and cosmological strands of the Gospel’s plot, gives direction to understanding the reaction of Jesus. At that moment, the Lord saw not only what Mary and the Jews saw—physical death—but what God saw: spiritual death and the effects of sin. The tomb of Lazarus was not the only place of death; the whole world was a tomb-in-waiting.
11:34 And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, Come and see” (καὶ εἶπεν, Ποῦ τεθείκατε αὐτόν; λέγουσιν αὐτῷ, Κύριε, ἔρχου καὶ ἴδε). Jesus begins to act upon his anger and grief by asking for the location of the tomb where Lazarus was laid. While it is not apparent to whom “they said” (λέγουσιν) refers, it likely refers to the two sisters of Jesus, who would be responsible for the burial of their brother, though the immediate context also allows for it to be some of the Jews with Mary (v. 33). The response to Jesus, “Come and see” (ἔρχου καὶ ἴδε), intriguingly recalls Jesus’s first words to his disciples in 1:39.63
11:35 Jesus began to cry (ἐδάκρυσεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς). In one of the shortest verses in the Bible, Jesus is described by an aorist verb that is probably to be interpreted as an ingressive, which stresses “the beginning of an action or the entrance into a state.”64 The word translated “cry” (ἐδάκρυσεν) is different than the word used to describe the “weeping” (κλαίουσαν) of Mary and the Jews in v. 33. While the latter is often taken to be a bit stronger (“weep” instead of “cry”), in light of Jesus’s previously stated response to the situation, the context does not allow for much of a distinction. Since this is the second of three descriptions of the emotional or angry response of Jesus by the narrator, the reader should take note.
11:36 The Jews were saying, “Look at how he cared for him” (ἔλεγον οὖν οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι, Ἴδε πῶς ἐφίλει αὐτόν). The narrator informs us that some of the Jews had their own interpretation of Jesus’s response to the plight of Lazarus. The Jews’ inference of the love of Jesus for Lazarus is entirely misguided.65 Certainly the cry of Jesus is partly due to human affection, but it was also much more. They could not even imagine how far and wide the love of Christ is (Eph 1:4–5; Rom 8:38–39).
11:37 But others from among them said, “Could not this one who opened the eyes of the blind man have acted so that this man would not have died?” (τινὲς δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν εἶπαν, Οὐκ ἐδύνατο οὗτος ὁ ἀνοίξας τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς τοῦ τυφλοῦ ποιῆσαι ἵνα καὶ οὗτος μὴ ἀποθάνῃ;). But not all of the Jews had such a positive, even if nearsighted, interpretation of Jesus and his actions. As the narrator allows us to see, several of “the Jews” also considered Jesus’s inaction as a failure of sorts, for certainly the one who healed the blind man (the fifth sign) would be able to have “acted” (ποιῆσαι) in a similar manner with “this man” (οὗτος). While not spoken at Jesus directly, this group of the Jews is indirectly rebuking him in a manner similar to the indirect rebukes of Martha (v. 21) and Mary (v. 32), but with a greater note of skepticism.66 They think of Jesus not as the light and the life, but “as a thaumaturge” (i.e., a worker of miracles), whose inaction is as much a moral failure as it is ineptitude.67 In this way the conflict of the pericope concludes.
11:38 Then Jesus, again becoming outraged in himself, came to the tomb. It was a cave and a stone was laying against it (Ἰησοῦς οὖν πάλιν ἐμβριμώμενος ἐν ἑαυτῷ ἔρχεται εἰς τὸ μνημεῖον· ἦν δὲ σπήλαιον, καὶ λίθος ἐπέκειτο ἐπ’ αὐτῷ). The resolution of the pericope begins in a dramatic way and serves as the narrative climax of the pericope.68 The narrator explains that Jesus “again” (πάλιν) became “outraged” (ἐμβριμώμενος), the term that bore so much significance earlier (see comments on v. 33) that expresses his internal state—“in himself” (ἐν ἑαυτῷ), an angry and emotional response to the situation. The narrator adds that the tomb was a “cave” (σπήλαιον) covered by “a stone” (λίθος). While many private burials used vertical shaft tombs, this cave burial was probably oriented horizontally. The stone would keep animals away from the body.69 The distance between the family home and the tomb guarded the family and others from ritual impurity.
11:39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the man who had died, said to him, “Lord, already it stinks, for it is the fourth day” (λέγει ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Ἄρατε τὸν λίθον. λέγει αὐτῷ ἡ ἀδελφὴ τοῦ τετελευτηκότος Μάρθα, Κύριε, ἤδη ὄζει, τεταρταῖος γάρ ἐστιν). The anger and grief of Jesus did not paralyze him but propelled him. With what must have been an authoritative tone, Jesus commanded that the stone be removed. Martha, the sister who is known to speak not just act (cf. vv. 21–22), who had obviously joined the group that took Jesus to the tomb, offers a corrective or word of caution to Jesus: “It stinks already” (ἤδη ὄζει). While the implied subject of the verb could also be “he,” the strongly established death of Lazarus almost demands that we interpret her description as impersonal (in contrast to Jesus; see comments on v. 15). Martha was speaking about a corpse and the decay of death, which she adds has been in process for four days. The concern for odor suggests that there had been no embalming of the body, even though there are hints of the embalming process (v. 44).70 Martha’s corrective assumes what all the mourners assume: Lazarus was dead. Although they were right about Lazarus, they were dead wrong about Jesus.
11:40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not say to you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” (λέγει αὐτῇ ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Οὐκ εἶπόν σοι ὅτι ἐὰν πιστεύσῃς ὄψῃ τὴν δόξαν τοῦ θεοῦ;). But Jesus corrects Martha’s correction. Jesus reminds Martha of what he had said to her earlier, which must be a summary of what Jesus said to Martha in vv. 25–26. Jesus did not promise to resurrect Lazarus in vv. 25–26; rather, he offered an entirely new (cosmological) definition of “resurrection” and “life,” established by faith in his person (see comments on vv. 25–26). Jesus’s earlier rebuke of Martha was in regard to her assumption that Jesus’s authority (to act) was limited by his presence and that Jesus was not the full manifestation of God. Here Jesus reconnects with his earlier argument in this new context, rebuking Martha for her assumption that Jesus’s authority (to act) was limited by death and that Jesus was not the full manifestation of resurrection and life.
11:41 They took away the stone. Then Jesus lifted his eyes upward and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me” (ἦραν οὖν τὸν λίθον. ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἦρεν τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς ἄνω καὶ εἶπεν, Πάτερ, εὐχαριστῶ σοι ὅτι ἤκουσάς μου). The narrator describes how those present at the tomb obeyed Jesus’s command and removed the stone covering the grave. As strange as it may have seemed, the narrator gives no indication that there was any pushback beyond that given by Martha (v. 39). The narrator then introduces the first prayer of Jesus in the Gospel, which he prefaces by describing his body movements: “Jesus lifted his eyes upward” (Ἰησοῦς ἦρεν τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς ἄνω). The other occurrences of “lifting the eyes” in the Gospel (4:35; 6:5) are intimately connected to the work of the Son. And the last occurrence of the phrase will have as its goal that “the world might believe that you have sent me” (17:1). Such a posture is intended to reflect the magnitude of the moment and the union (ontological and functional) between the Father and the Son and the mission they share. The Father sent the Son for this very moment.
Jesus begins the prayer by addressing his Father, making clear that the “sign” about to take place was connected to both the Son and the Father, because his entire mission is grounded in the mission and nature of the Trinitarian God. Jesus thanks the Father for already having heard him, a statement that is somewhat mysterious since by implication it assumes that all that is left is for God to be thanked. The statement implies that Jesus had already prayed to the Father on behalf of Lazarus. While it is possible that Jesus prayed earlier (and perhaps silently), the lack of a stated prayer (in contrast to the prayer of Jesus in ch. 17) is stark. The Christian is so embraced by Christ in faith that the cries of the child of God are also and immediately heard and felt by the Son of God. By recording only the prayer of thanksgiving and not the prayer of supplication, the reader is reminded of the diligent intercession of the Son to the Father on our behalf, even when we do not hear it ourselves (Heb 7:25).71
11:42 “I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the crowd standing around, so that they might believe that you sent me” (ἐγὼ δὲ ᾔδειν ὅτι πάντοτέ μου ἀκούεις· ἀλλὰ διὰ τὸν ὄχλον τὸν περιεστῶτα εἶπον, ἵνα πιστεύσωσιν ὅτι σύ με ἀπέστειλας). Jesus continues the prayer by describing the confidence he has in the Father, who “always” (πάντοτέ) hears him. Such a statement magnifies the intimate union between the Father and the Son, who is in every way “with God” (1:1). As said above (v. 41), if the Father hears the Son, and the children of God are embraced by Christ in faith, then God will also “always” (πάντοτέ) hear our prayers—prayers to the Father, through the Son, and empowered by the Holy Spirit. Just as Jesus has been drawing Mary and Martha into a kind of life that can overcome death (vv. 23–26), so now by his example of prayer he is trying to draw those standing around him into the life of God.
11:43 After he said these things, Jesus shouted in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” (καὶ ταῦτα εἰπὼν φωνῇ μεγάλῃ ἐκραύγασεν, Λάζαρε, δεῦρο ἔξω). The resolution of the pericope ends quickly and dramatically. With a majestic tone and volume, Jesus commands Lazarus to come out of the tomb. According to the narrator, Jesus “shouted” (ἐκραύγασεν) at Lazarus, a term that only in this occurrence depicts Jesus’s manner of speech, with every other occurrence of the term directed at Jesus—primarily used in the Jews’ rejection of Jesus later in the Gospel (cf. 18:40; 19:6, 12, 15). When Jesus “shouts,” it is for the purpose of giving life; when the Jews “shout,” it is for the purpose of taking life.72 Jesus speaks to Lazarus not as one absent but as one merely “sleeping” (cf. vv. 11–13). Jesus does not use an imperative verb but only an adverb, “come” (δεῦρο), which bears the force of both an imperative (command) and an interjection.73 In this act Jesus asserts his divine office, for the Father has given the authority of life and death to the Son (5:22–29): “An hour comes and now is when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live” (5:25).
11:44 The man who had died came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of cloth, and with a cloth wrapped around his face. Jesus said to them, “Unwrap him and let him go” (ἐξῆλθεν ὁ τεθνηκὼς δεδεμένος τοὺς πόδας καὶ τὰς χεῖρας κειρίαις, καὶ ἡ ὄψις αὐτοῦ σουδαρίῳ περιεδέδετο. λέγει αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Λύσατε αὐτὸν καὶ ἄφετε αὐτὸν ὑπάγειν). And Lazarus came out! The narrator offers a rich description of his reappearance. Instead of calling him Lazarus, the narrator describes him as “the man who had died” (ὁ τεθνηκὼς); although he had once died, denoted by the perfect tense participle, he was dead no longer. The title, then, is entirely ironic and serves as a mockery of death by the Son of God, who speaks and “the dead will hear” his voice (5:25).
The irony continues as the narrator describes how “the man who had died” came out dressed in the clothes of a corpse, that is, grave clothes. To prevent premature distortion of tissue, a dead body would be wrapped tightly with shrouds or strips of cloth from head to toe, including the tight wrap around the head and face to keep the mouth closed.74 The wrapping would have been so tight and comprehensive that Lazarus would have hardly been able to walk; it is probably best to imagine him shuffling or hopping out of the tomb.75 The image is remarkable. The “man who had died” makes his way out of the tomb in a manner that required great exertion. He is alive and well!
Befitting his renewed state, Jesus commands “them” (αὐτοῖς)—probably the same bystanders who removed the stone from the grave—to “unwrap him and let him go” (Λύσατε αὐτὸν καὶ ἄφετε αὐτὸν ὑπάγειν). Only Christ could resurrect Lazarus’s body, but it was appropriate for the bystanders to undress it. He is no longer dead, so the clothes of a grave are now unnecessary, just as the grave is no longer a tomb but a “cave” (σπήλαιον), which might be why the narrator described it as such in v. 38. What was thought to be a tomb was nothing more than a cave in which Lazarus had a four-day “sleep” (cf. vv. 11–13). In this way the resolution of the pericope concludes.
11:45 Then many of the Jews, those who had come with Mary and had seen what he did, believed in him (Πολλοὶ οὖν ἐκ τῶν Ἰουδαίων, οἱ ἐλθόντες πρὸς τὴν Μαριὰμ καὶ θεασάμενοι ἃ ἐποίησεν, ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτόν). The conclusion and interpretation of the pericope begins with a description of the responses to the resurrection of Lazarus, the sixth sign. The narrator explains that “many” (Πολλοὶ) of the Jews “believed in him” (ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτόν). This need not be taken to mean that these Jews had true belief (see comments on 2:23), just as this pericope has shown how much more Martha and Mary had still to grasp about the person and work of Jesus. The narrator is showing that the “sign” was recognized by the Jews and that it in some way tickled their faith.
11:46 But some of them went to the Pharisees and reported to them what Jesus had done (τινὲς δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν ἀπῆλθον πρὸς τοὺς Φαρισαίους καὶ εἶπαν αὐτοῖς ἃ ἐποίησεν Ἰησοῦς). The narrator contrasts the Jews that “believed” with the Jews that “reported” (εἶπαν) to the Pharisees the actions of Jesus. Since the beginning of the Gospel, the “Pharisees” were connected to the authorities in Jerusalem (see 1:19, 24), and the people had long been aware (often motivated by fear; 9:22) that they were to report such incidents to the authorities (cf. 9:13; see also v. 57). The witness of the Jews both for and against Jesus (vv. 45–46) does not end here and will later facilitate and even magnify the concern of the Jewish authorities regarding Jesus (see 12:17–19).
11:47 Then the high priests and the Pharisees assembled a meeting of the council and said, “What are we doing, because this man is doing many signs?” (συνήγαγον οὖν οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ Φαρισαῖοι συνέδριον, καὶ ἔλεγον, Τί ποιοῦμεν, ὅτι οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος πολλὰ ποιεῖ σημεῖα;). Upon hearing the report of the resurrection of Lazarus, an official gathering of the Jewish authorities takes place. The “high priests” (οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς) were members of the leading priestly families, the “court” of the high priest, with the majority aligning not with the Pharisees (see comments on 1:24) but with the party of the Sadducees (see comments on 7:32; cf. 3:1). Their gathering together for a second time suggests that their common enemy—Jesus—is large enough to overshadow the differences that normally stood between them.
The term translated as “a meeting of the council” (συνέδριον), or the “Sanhedrin,” refers to the governing council and chief court of the Jewish nation. The Sanhedrin was a ruling council or senate. Although it was limited in authority by the Romans (cf. v. 48), it was the highest authoritative and governing body in first-century Judaism. It was the final authority and primary decision-making body in all major administrative and judicial roles in Jewish self-governance.76 The council was able to be called on short notice and was frequently the place where religious “politics” took place. Since the rest of the Gospel says so little about the Jewish trial of Jesus, it is possible that this “meeting of the council” was the real trial of Jesus, where the decision was made to solve the Jesus problem.77
The question asked by the council, presumably one that summarizes the feelings of the entire group, reveals their exasperation toward Jesus. “What shall we do?” (Τί ποιοῦμεν) suggests that the little they have done has not worked (e.g., 7:13, 30, 45–52; 9:22). The reason they have failed is clearly stated as “because this man is doing many signs” (ὅτι οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος πολλὰ ποιεῖ σημεῖα). If Jesus’s miraculous works had already drawn attention to him, how much more after this latest miracle—the resurrection of Lazarus (see 12:9–11)? The glaring absence of his name by the Jewish authorities and in its place the now common designation, “this man,” serves to reflect the disdain of Jesus’s person. There is no longer the need to make a legal case (e.g., 5:16–18), for the case against “this man” had become much more personal.
11:48 “If we allow him to continue like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation” (ἐὰν ἀφῶμεν αὐτὸν οὕτως, πάντες πιστεύσουσιν εἰς αὐτόν, καὶ ἐλεύσονται οἱ Ῥωμαῖοι καὶ ἀροῦσιν ἡμῶν καὶ τὸν τόπον καὶ τὸ ἔθνος). The summarized feelings of the council continue, this time with the potential political ramifications. According to the Sanhedrin, “if we allow him” (ἀφῶμεν αὐτὸν), as in, “if we do not stop him,” and he continues to do what he has been doing, two things are likely to happen. First, “everyone will believe in him” (πάντες πιστεύσουσιν εἰς αὐτόν). While this is certainly an exaggeration, it suggests that they truly fear the response of the people to Jesus.
Second, the Romans will “take away both our place and our nation” (ἀροῦσιν ἡμῶν καὶ τὸν τόπον καὶ τὸ ἔθνος). The concern is that the Romans would see the upheaval caused by the heralding of a newly crowned king (see comments on 6:14–15), who would probably be viewed in a messianic manner as a warrior-king. Such would be considered a threat to the power and authority of Rome. Although the Jews were officially subordinate to Roman authority, they enjoyed a good amount of religious freedom. Nevertheless, they were not allowed to have their own king; Caesar was their king. Thus, the political ramifications could be severe, even deadly. Rome could come and take away their “place” (τὸν τόπον), which likely refers to their city or more specifically to the temple, and their “nation” (τὸ ἔθνος), which likely refers to the semiautonomous status of the Jewish nation under the Roman Empire. The grammar presses together “place and nation” as a unit, which is not without precedence in Jewish writings (cf. 2 Macc 1:29; 5:19) and which taken together reflects a concern for religious freedom and, more personally (and selfishly), their own power as the ruling council.78
11:49 But one of them, Caiaphas, who was the high priest that year, said to them, “You do not understand anything” (εἷς δέ τις ἐξ αὐτῶν Καϊάφας, ἀρχιερεὺς ὢν τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἐκείνου, εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Ὑμεῖς οὐκ οἴδατε οὐδέν). The narrator explains how Caiaphas, the high priest, provides a response to the summarized voice given in vv. 47–48. The narrator’s qualification that Caiaphas was high priest “that year” (τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἐκείνου) does not mean that there was a new high priest every year, since the evidence suggests that high priests were generally in positions for much longer than a year (see comments on 18:13). According to Josephus, while his two predecessors served for only a year or less (Ant. 18.35), Caiaphas was high priest for eighteen years (Ant. 18.35; 18.95; cf. Luke 3:2).79 The qualification might simply give emphasis to the significance of “that year” in which Jesus was crucified. It might also strike a note of irony, especially in light of v. 48.80 With the ruling authority belonging to Rome, Caiaphas—or any high priest—could be easily deposed—like Caiaphas’s father-in-law, Annas (18:13). The threefold occurrence of the qualification that Caiaphas was high priest “that year” (vv. 49, 51; 18:13)81 directs the reader’s attention to the eternal high priest about whom the narrator speaks: Jesus Christ, the High Priest (Heb 8:1–2). In a real way, “that year” was the year of transition from the old covenant and a temporary priesthood to the new covenant, a better covenant and an eternal priesthood (Heb. 7:22, 24).
The high priest functioned as the chair of the council, held considerable political authority, and according to tradition could break ties in the case of a split vote.82 Thus, it is not unusual for him to direct the proceedings, as he does here. His statement to the council, with its dual emphatic pronoun and emphatic double negative, is contemptuous,83 rebuking the Sanhedrin for not taking their logical observations and concerns to their obvious conclusion. As Bultmann suggests, “The words of rebuke with which his proposition is introduced sets the blindness crassly in the light.”84
11:50 “You are not considering that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not the whole nation perish” (οὐδὲ λογίζεσθε ὅτι συμφέρει ὑμῖν ἵνα εἷς ἄνθρωπος ἀποθάνῃ ὑπὲρ τοῦ λαοῦ καὶ μὴ ὅλον τὸ ἔθνος ἀπόληται). According to the political wisdom of the high priest, “it is better” (συμφέρει), that is, more advantageous or profitable,85 for one man to “die” (ἀποθάνῃ) than for the whole nation to “perish” (ἀπόληται). The statement need not mean that they (the Jewish authorities) need to kill Jesus but simply that they need to direct the attention of Rome away from the nation (with its growing messianic fervor) and toward the one man who is the source of it all.86 Said another way, Caiaphas, with great “political sagacity,”87 suggests to the Sanhedrin that they make a Jewish problem look just as much like a Roman problem! Such a maneuver would remove Jewish-Roman tensions and pit both the Jews and the Romans against the one man, Jesus.
11:51 He said this not by himself, but as high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation (τοῦτο δὲ ἀφ’ ἑαυτοῦ οὐκ εἶπεν, ἀλλὰ ἀρχιερεὺς ὢν τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἐκείνου ἐπροφήτευσεν ὅτι ἔμελλεν Ἰησοῦς ἀποθνῄσκειν ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἔθνους). The significance of the statement is so great that the narrator inserts an explanatory “intrusion” (cf. 3:16) to ensure the reader grasps its full meaning and irony. The narrator does not just explain the meaning of Caiaphas’s statement but describes its true source (“he said this not by himself”) and its true nature (“he prophesied”). The narrator is not claiming that Caiaphas was speaking like Balaam’s donkey, even if the analogy is in one sense quite appropriate,88 but that by his own “cognitive processes” (v. 50) Caiaphas’s intended and plain-sense meaning actually carried with it a clear and retrievable extended-sense meaning. Using the lens offered by the prologue, Caiaphas spoke by means of the historical strand, whereas the reader is expected to see the cosmological plot also at work.89
To make this even more emphatic, the narrator claims Caiaphas “prophesied” (ἐπροφήτευσεν). In one sense this is just a playful use of the traditional understanding of the significant office held by the high priest, who could be regarded as “particularly prophetically endowed.”90 But in another, more important sense the narrator speaks of the use that God would make of this statement, using Caiaphas like an OT prophet who speaks with specificity about what would soon take place! In a remarkable moment, the Jerusalem high priest declares in the voice of a prophet “against his knowledge and intention” that Jesus would redemptively die for the nation of Israel (cf. Isa 53:11).91 The redemptive sense is highlighted by the use of “for” or “on behalf of” (ὑπὲρ), which the Gospel has already used to refer to the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross (see comments on 6:51). Jesus said he would lay down his life “for” the sheep (10:11, 14). Indeed, it was his alone to give; there was no authority (Jewish or Roman) that could take it from him (10:18). Caiaphas, then, was simply repeating what Jesus had himself already “prophesied.”
This helps to explain not only the use of the word “prophesy” but also the enigmatic, threefold use of “that year,” occurring for a second time here. At “that” moment, Caiaphas the high priest may have been moving his lips, but it was Jesus the high priest who was doing the speaking. The demonstrative “that,” used also in the Gospel to refer to two different objects simultaneously (see comments on 7:8), indicates that the transition has begun. It was in “that year” that the high priest was replaced by the eternal high priest. The Gospel is moving us to see that the work of Jesus the high priest is quickly and necessarily headed to the cross.
11:52 And not only for the nation, but also in order to gather together into one the scattered children of God (καὶ οὐχ ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἔθνους μόνον ἀλλ’ ἵνα καὶ τὰ τέκνα τοῦ θεοῦ τὰ διεσκορπισμένα συναγάγῃ εἰς ἕν). The narrator continues to express the extended-sense meaning of Caiaphas’s “prophecy.” The narrator had already shifted the plain-sense focus on political expediency to the extended-sense meaning of salvation;92 now he shifts again from the plain-sense focus on Israel to the extended-sense referent of the church. The narrator claims that the death of Jesus is not only “for” (see v. 51) the nation of Israel but also for the “children of God” (τὰ τέκνα τοῦ θεοῦ), whom he depicts in the language Jesus used of his sheep in 10:16, sheep who are “scattered” (τὰ διεσκορπισμένα), that is, not yet united in his person and work. The work of Jesus is universal and, as denoted by the purpose clause, is intended to “gather together” (συναγάγῃ) all God’s children, both Jew and gentile, into one body, the church. This is, then, the Israel of God (Gal 6:16), and Jesus will be their eternal high priest.93
11:53 So from that day they planned to kill him (ἀπ’ ἐκείνης οὖν τῆς ἡμέρας ἐβουλεύσαντο ἵνα ἀποκτείνωσιν αὐτόν). The narrator concludes his insights into the meeting chambers of the Sanhedrin by revealing their agreement with the political strategy of Caiaphas. Their decision was that “they planned” (ἐβουλεύσαντο) to kill Jesus, almost certainly by using the political strategy suggested by Caiaphas to join hands with the Romans against Jesus. The qualifying demonstrative “that year” (vv. 49, 51) is now being used to qualify a single day (“that day” [ἐκείνης τῆς ἡμέρας]). Little did they know that the plan the Jewish authorities made on that day had always been the plan of God. As Peter would soon say to the Jerusalem crowd in regard to Jesus, “This man was handed over to you by God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him to the cross” (Acts 2:23; emphasis added).
11:54 Therefore Jesus no longer traveled openly among the Jews, but went away from there to the region near the country, to a city called Ephraim, where he remained with the disciples (Ὁ οὖν Ἰησοῦς οὐκέτι παρρησίᾳ περιεπάτει ἐν τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις, ἀλλὰ ἀπῆλθεν ἐκεῖθεν εἰς τὴν χώραν ἐγγὺς τῆς ἐρήμου, εἰς Ἐφραὶμ λεγομένην πόλιν, κἀκεῖ διέτριβεν μετὰ τῶν μαθητῶν). The narrator concludes the pericope by describing the strategy of Jesus, who intentionally avoided being seen by the Jews. Jesus is not running out of fear but is acting by his own authority (10:18) and according to his own schedule—“my hour” (see comments on 2:4). Jesus withdrew with his disciples outside the populated area of Jerusalem to “the country” (τὴν χώραν), specifically to a city called Ephraim on the edge of the desert about twelve miles northeast of Jerusalem.94
11:55 The Passover of the Jews was near, and many went up to Jerusalem from the country before the Passover in order to purify themselves (Ἦν δὲ ἐγγὺς τὸ πάσχα τῶν Ἰουδαίων, καὶ ἀνέβησαν πολλοὶ εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα ἐκ τῆς χώρας πρὸ τοῦ πάσχα ἵνα ἁγνίσωσιν ἑαυτούς). Jesus would not remain away for long, however, for Passover was approaching, which for the Gospel will no longer be background but foreground: the Lamb of God, the cross, and a new exodus. This is the third Passover mentioned by the Gospel (2:13, 23; 6:4). The narrator describes the Jewish traditional and ceremonial practice of traveling to Jerusalem to prepare for Passover. The Passover required self-purification as mandated by the OT (see Num 9:6–12; 2 Chr 30:17–18).95 Jesus, in sharp contrast, needed no purification (cf. 12:1).
11:56 They were seeking Jesus, and as they stood in the temple spoke with one another, “What do you think? Surely he is not coming to the Feast?” (ἐζήτουν οὖν τὸν Ἰησοῦν καὶ ἔλεγον μετ’ ἀλλήλων ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ ἑστηκότες, Τί δοκεῖ ὑμῖν; ὅτι οὐ μὴ ἔλθῃ εἰς τὴν ἑορτήν;). Even the Passover could not eclipse the attention Jesus had drawn. The narrator explains that the travelers were hoping to see Jesus and are even described as continually “seeking” (ἐζήτουν) him, denoted by the imperfect tense verb. The narrator depicts them standing in the temple, in the central and populated area, asking one another if Jesus would make an appearance. While the first question reflects the discussion among the people present, the second question reveals their answer, since the question is asked with the emphatic negation subjunctive, the strongest negation in Greek: “Surely he is not coming to the Feast?” (οὐ μὴ ἔλθῃ εἰς τὴν ἑορτήν).96
11:57 But the high priests and the Pharisees had given an order that if anyone knew where he was, he should report it, in order that they could arrest him (δεδώκεισαν δὲ οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ Φαρισαῖοι ἐντολὴν ἵνα ἐάν τις γνῷ ποῦ ἐστιν μηνύσῃ, ὅπως πιάσωσιν αὐτόν). The reason people could not imagine the appearance of Jesus is because the Jewish authorities had already made it known to the public that the presence of Jesus should be reported so that he could be arrested. In light of the decision of the Sanhedrin, Jesus was now a wanted criminal. The seriousness of the situation is denoted both by the pluperfect tense verb, “had given” (δεδώκεισαν), which carries the element of “lasting consequence,”97 and by the term “order” (ἐντολὴν), which only occurs here in the Gospel for anything other than a command of God or Christ (cf. 10:18). The authorities had devised a plan for dealing with Jesus, but the reader is well aware that the plan truly belongs to the Lord (see v. 53). The narrator concludes the pericope with a description of the mounting social and religious pressure placed upon Jesus as well as the growing interest in his person and presence. The narrator is transitioning the reader to the final stage of Jesus’s journey by connecting the narrative time to Passover, for the remainder of the Gospel takes place in connection with the Passover and the true Passover, the death of Christ.
As the sixth section of the Gospel begins, the reader is given an insider’s view on the sixth sign of the Gospel, which displays not only the cosmological identity of Jesus as “the resurrection and the life” but also the intimate love of God for the world. This pericope is a powerful and engaging story that exhorts the reader to see God as he truly is, the one who loves and conquers death because he is life, true life. While the length of the pericope might prohibit the preacher from handling it in its entirety, the message should at least be maintained in the context of the full story and its movement.
On the surface this pericope is about the resurrection of a man named Lazarus, who was once dead. But the raising of Lazarus is only part of the miracle—the “sign”—this pericope intends to communicate. The thirty-seven verses (!) leading up to the resurrection are filled with their own significant drama regarding the threat of sickness and death and the greater purpose of God. Earlier in the pericope, the reader is confronted with a paradox: the sickness (and death) of Lazarus was not “for the purpose of death but for the glory of God” (v. 4). Jesus’s statement imposes itself upon the reader, demanding that they interpret everything recorded thereafter as divinely purposeful and directed at bringing glory to God. But before such a paradox gets fully explained to the reader, the narrator breaks into the story and makes a remarkable statement about the love of Jesus (v. 5). God’s ability to use the sickness and death of Lazarus must be understood as fitting perfectly and purposefully with his love for Lazarus and his family. Even the delay of Jesus recorded in v. 6 is not to be viewed as a dispassionate response but must be understood in light of the love of God.
The Christian, like the Bethany family, is also loved by Jesus, by God (cf. 3:16). For the same reason, then, the threat and experience of sickness and death for the Christian cannot (must not!) be viewed as a betrayal or contradiction of the love of God for them. If God delays in responding to our crisis (as he did for Lazarus in v. 6), that does not mean he does not love us or is not being purposeful in regard to our plight. This pericope urges the Christian to look for the glory of God in every circumstance, even if (and maybe emphatically so) the result does not appear to meet the demand—our demand. Because “Christ is the unique mirror of the divine grace,”98 Christians are exhorted by this pericope to claim the life Christ offers over their own standards for life.
This pericope presses upon the reader a much more robust understanding of “life.” Jesus declares that he is “the resurrection and the life” (v. 26), two terms that speak to the same subject matter, even though one is more often considered to refer to the future and the other to the present. In the person and work of Jesus, life is no longer bound by death, and death no longer may willfully intrude into life. Death is so impotent for the Christian that he or she can actually die and yet still live (v. 25)! The reader of the Gospel is exhorted to believe that death is now “unreal.”99 The Christian shouts with the apostle Paul: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55).
For this reason, sickness and death are no longer what they seem. Those “in [Christ]” (v. 10) have an internal security that defeats and mutes all external conditions. “Indeed, it is because the Word became flesh and dwelt among us that the distinction between the physical and the spiritual is blurred and the two become bewilderingly interlocked. . . . In Jesus, the continuity between all degrees of being is complete.”100 The life of the Christian is now entirely in Christ. Divide life into physical and spiritual and you risk a depersonalizing dualism; affirm the indivisible and you endanger the reality of the transcendent. “But the heart of this baffling mystery is simply Jesus.”101 According to the Gospel of John, Jesus is life. The life of the Christian, therefore, is no longer defined by his own living but by the life he has in Christ.
This pericope offers the Christian insight into the very heart of God. Jesus may be the Word who was with God in the beginning of time itself, but he is also with his people in their time, experiencing the depth of their pain and weeping with them (vv. 33, 35, 38). Debates over the anger or emotion of Jesus in vv. 33 and 38 can often eclipse the truth that Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, was embracing the circumstances and plight of his people. In a crystal clear picture of grace, the Creator embraced creation and the Light associated with the darkness, although not in a manner that corrupted God but in a manner that depicted clearly the fact that God loves the world (cf. 3:16).
O church, your God is “outraged and troubled” (v. 33) over you, coparticipating in your burdens by being angry and mournful at sickness, death, and sin. The “unmoved mover” (Aristotle) is moved to tears for his people, the shepherd of his sheep (ch. 10). “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin” (Heb 4:15). Worship the Lord, all his people, for he has come to you, meeting you where you are in your difficulties, embracing the suffering you face just as fully as he embraces you.
God does not merely embrace with his children the evil they face but uses that same evil for his own good purposes. The response of Caiaphas before the Sanhedrin to the resurrection of Lazarus was filled with rich irony, which the narrator of the Gospel explains to the reader (vv. 49–52). The intentions of the Jewish leadership to kill Jesus fit perfectly within the divine intentions of God, so much so that Caiaphas words were, quite literally, “prophetic.” As God explained back in the days of Joseph, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives” (Gen 50:20).
The God who created all things also controls all things, even the evil intentions and actions of his enemies. This is your God, Christian, the one in whom you have placed your trust. Your faith is not in the systems and institutions of humanity nor in your own ability to devise a plan, but in the God who controls them all—in the mysterious but gracious plan of God for you and the world. For we know that in all things God works for the good (Rom 8:28), and for this reason we trust in him, no matter the initial forecast.
After Jesus made one of the most cosmological statements in the Gospel, declaring himself to be the resurrection and the life, declaring death itself to be subsumed by life in him (v. 25), he asks Martha a pointed question: “Do you believe this?” (v. 26). At that moment Jesus was not just speaking to Martha but to all the earth: “Do you, O human, believe?” For the Christian this question continually points them to Christ, who must become for them the foundation of their existence, their life. Like Moses declared before the Israelites: “This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live” (Deut 30:19). So Jesus declares to the Christian through the Gospel: “I am the resurrection and the life. . . . Do you believe this?”