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§30 The Raising of Lazarus (John 11:17–44)

After a brief introduction setting the stage for the action (vv. 17–19), the drama of the raising of Lazarus unfolds in three scenes: one between Jesus and Martha providing a theological interpretation for the whole (vv. 20–27), one in which Jesus reacts to the sorrow of Mary and some Jews who came to mourn with her (vv. 28–37), and one at the tomb recounting the actual procedure by which Jesus raised Lazarus to life (vv. 38–44).

It is not certain how long the journey took from Bethany to Bethany. The purpose of the statement that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days (v. 17) is not to construct a chronology or to help fix the location of the puzzling Bethany east of the Jordan (cf. 1:28). If Lazarus died at about the time Jesus received word of his illness (v. 4), the journey (after a two-day wait) would have taken at least two days. If he died (as is more likely) at about the time Jesus said he had “fallen asleep” (v. 11), it would have taken longer. The purpose of mentioning the four days is to provide a backdrop for Martha’s comment in verse 39, and thus for Jesus’ dramatic encounter with the grim reality of death in verses 40–44.

The narrator is more interested in Bethany’s location in relation to Jerusalem (v. 18) than in relation to the other Bethany to the east. Part of the reason may be that he knows this distance and does not know the other, but more significantly, he wants to explain the presence there of some Jews from Jerusalem (v. 19) who will play a small yet crucial role in the story (cf. vv. 31, 33, 36–37, 45–46). The fact that their presence in Bethany needs to be explained (most of the townspeople of Bethany, after all, were Jews!) suggests that here, as frequently in this Gospel, religious authorities of some kind are meant. Because Bethany was as close to Jerusalem as it was, people from Jerusalem had come to join in the mourning, and among these were many of the religious leaders. Jesus’ arrival in Bethany is described like the visit of a conquering king, or in the way the early Christians later expected him to come gloriously to earth a second time in his Parousia (e.g., 1 Thess. 4:15–17; 1 Cor. 15:23; 51–57; like the returning Lord of Paul’s expectation, Jesus is coming to Bethany to raise the dead). It is a kind of triumphal entry told in advance, more private than public, in a small village instead of a great city. It is not so much an anticipation of the public entry into Jerusalem (12:12–19) as the beginning of the chain of events leading up to it. To Martha, Jesus was the Coming One (v. 27; cf. 6:14), and when she heard that Jesus was coming to her village and her own house she went out to meet him (v. 20), like a delegation sent to welcome and escort a victorious emperor into a city (cf. the language used of Jesus’ welcome into Jerusalem in 12:13, 18).

Martha’s greeting to Jesus (v. 21) recalls his delay in responding to her message. But despite its tone, the intent is not to accuse; even if Jesus had come at once, Lazarus would still be two days dead. Martha’s purpose (and Mary’s in v. 32) is rather to affirm her confidence in Jesus’ power to heal the sick. Even in the present tragic circumstances she does not exclude the possibility of a miracle, though she has no inkling what form it might take (v. 22; for a similar note of anticipation, cf. the remarks of Jesus’ mother in 2:5). What is clear to her is that Jesus’ power is the power of God; if he works a miracle, he must do so not on his own authority but on that of the Father (cf. 5:17, 19). Every miracle of Jesus finally comes down to a miracle of answered prayer (cf. 6:11; 9:31), whether the prayer is expressed verbally or not. In the case of Lazarus, the prayer is explicit. Jesus will ask that Lazarus be made alive, and God will grant it (cf. vv. 41–44).

When Jesus assures Martha that your brother will rise again (v. 23), he is in one breath expressing the common hope he shares with the Pharisees (e.g., Acts 23:6–8; 24:15; cf. John 5:28–29) and announcing what he will do that very day. Martha comprehends the former but not the latter. That her brother will rise again in the resurrection at the last day (v. 24) is something on which she and Jesus can agree. It is a genuine consolation, but it is not something she needed Jesus to tell her, and it does not cut the sorrow of the moment. Instead of addressing the death of Lazarus directly, Jesus speaks to the larger issue of the Jewish resurrection hope (vv. 25–26). Though he says nothing he has not said before in this Gospel (cf. 5:21, 24–26; 6:39–40, 44, 54; 8:51, 58), Jesus quickly does two things that address Martha’s immediate concern: He puts himself, and faith in him, squarely at the center of the resurrection hope, and he transforms that hope from a future, somewhat theoretical, expectation into a present experience of the very life of God.

The form of Jesus’ reply (vv. 25–26) resembles that of several other of his “I am” pronouncements, in which the “I am” with its predicate is followed by an invitation or promise, introduced by a relative or conditional clause or a participle (cf. 6:35; 8:12; 10:9). In this instance there are two predicates (I am the resurrection and [I am] the life, v. 25a) and two invitation/promises (he who believes in me will live, even though he dies, v. 25b; whoever lives and believes in me will never die, v. 26a). The first of these relative clauses (participles in Greek) explains “I am the resurrection”; the second explains “I am the life.” The meaning can be set forth as follows:

(a) I am the resurrection—that is, whoever believes in me will live, even though he or she dies.

(b) I am the life—that is, whoever lives and believes in me will never die.

The relation of the two parts is best understood when (b) is viewed as following logically from (a). If it is true that whoever believes in Jesus and dies (e.g., Lazarus) will live again, then it follows that no living believer will ever die—ultimately. The life they have been given is eternal life (cf. 3:16; 10:28). They may die physically, but death’s dominion is only temporary. Jesus will “raise them up at the last day” (6:39–40).

The distinctly Christian note here is that Jesus will raise them. He, in his own person, is the resurrection and therefore the life. Eternal life is a relationship to him. As long as Jesus is present, life is present, not simply the life breathed into humanity at the creation (cf. 1:4), but resurrection life, the new life that belongs to “the last day” and will never end.

Martha’s response to the pronouncement is entirely appropriate in centering on the person of Jesus (v. 27). This is true despite his lack of interest in titles (cf. 10:34–38) and despite the fact that he neither rebukes nor endorses her confession (he is similarly reserved about the confessions of Nathanael in 1:49, Peter in 6:69, and Thomas in 20:28). Martha acknowledges Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God in the context of his claim to be the giver of life; her explicit Yes, Lord to his question, Do you believe this? makes this clear. The narrator’s endorsement of her confession is seen in his use of the same two titles in stating the purpose for which the Gospel was written (20:31a). He wants his readers to join Martha in her testimony to Jesus, with the explicit intent “that by believing you may have life in his name” (20:31b). Though titles are not an end in themselves, they make sense when they display (as they do in Martha’s case) a recognition of Jesus’ deeds, and of his power and willingness to give life.

Thus Martha, the practical-minded but troubled hostess of Luke’s Gospel (cf. Luke 10:38–42), becomes in the Gospel of John both a woman of words and a woman of faith. Mary’s role, surprisingly, is but a faint echo of Martha’s (vv. 28–32). She had remained at home, in mourning, and came out to meet Jesus only when Martha came back to summon her (v. 28). Her first words on seeing Jesus duplicate exactly the words of Martha (v. 32; cf. v. 21), but without the added note of hopefulness (cf. v. 22). The narrator seems to know the same traditions about Mary and Martha that are known to Luke, for he portrays Mary always at Jesus’ feet (v. 32; cf. 12:3; Luke 10:39). But in the present account at least, hers is a secondary role. She is in the story mainly to weep, and this function she shares with the Jewish leaders who had come from Jerusalem (v. 31; cf. v. 19). The sight of her and these other Jews weeping aroused the emotions of Jesus—sorrow (v. 35), agitation, and (surprisingly) anger (vv. 33, 38). He was not angry at Mary and her fellow mourners for losing control (loud weeping was normal and expected in such situations), nor for their lack of faith in what he would do (for they had no way of knowing what that would be). Rather, he was angry at death, the Enemy who holds all human beings captive to uncleanness and shame (cf. Heb. 2:14–15). Death is not here personalized as the devil, yet the implicit conflict at the tomb of Lazarus is the same conflict with darkness and the “ruler of this world” that emerges in connection with Jesus’ own impending death (cf. 12:31; 13:2; 14:30). His anger recalls the anger he sometimes displays in the synoptic Gospels when he faces uncleanness (Mark 1:40–45) or drives out demons (Mark 9:19).

As Jesus proceeds to the tomb, his tears bring a mixed reaction from the Jewish leaders who had come to mourn with the two sisters. His strong emotion gives undeniable evidence of his love for Lazarus, yet there are those who question his power, or his willingness, or both, to have prevented his friend’s death (vv. 36–37). The momentary disagreement is a harbinger of a more serious division to come (cf. vv. 45–46).

The miracle itself is told briefly (vv. 38–44). No interpretive discourse follows because Martha has already been given the interpretation (vv. 25–26). Martha, accordingly, is the only witness singled out at the scene of the miracle itself. It is her remark that calls the reader’s attention to the stench and foulness of death (v. 39), and it is to her that Jesus renews his promise of the glory of God (v. 40; cf. v. 4). The promise is immediately fulfilled. When the stone blocking the entrance to the tomb is taken away (in spite of Martha’s warning), Jesus looks up to God in prayer. His prayer takes the form of a thanksgiving rather than a petition (cf. 6:11); his relationship to the Father is so close and intimate (cf. 10:38) that he knows his petitions are already answered and that Lazarus will come to life (vv. 41–42). He prays aloud, not because it is necessary, but so that the onlookers will know that he is not acting autonomously. He calls Lazarus by name, with an authority given him from the Father (cf. 5:21, 25–26). As soon as Jesus speaks, Lazarus hobbles from the tomb, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face (v. 44).

The almost ludicrous sight stands in sharp contrast to the description of the tomb of Jesus on the morning of his resurrection (cf. 20:5–7). The narrator knows (and emphasizes) the difference between the resurrection of Jesus and the resuscitation of Lazarus. Lazarus was raised from death only to die again. After the miracle, he would resume the same kind of life he had known before. Jesus, on the other hand, would be raised into a new existence in the presence of the Father and into a new relationship with his disciples. Never again would death touch him. Yet despite the contrast, the narrator uses the resuscitation of Lazarus as a “sign” (cf. 12:18) of the resurrection to new life, whether of Jesus or of those who belong to him.

In itself, the raising of Lazarus is not qualitatively different from Jesus’ other miracles of healing. A resuscitation is a kind of “superheating,” and the two instances in the synoptic Gospels in which Jesus raised the dead (i.e., Mark 5:35–43; Luke 7:11–17) are not singled out from his other healings for special attention. It is only as a sign that the raising of Lazarus stands supreme among Jesus’ miracles. But because John’s Gospel is interested in Jesus’ miracles precisely as signs of his glory (i.e., as expressions of his relationship to the Father), this miracle serves the narrator as the fitting conclusion and capstone to the series of signs that comprise Jesus’ public ministry.