Come Out

You may have noticed over the last few weeks that our gospel readings are very long at the moment. In the cycle of the lectionary we read from different gospels in different years. At the moment we are in John’s gospel, and there is some interesting context to note about that. Matthew, Mark, and Luke are called the synoptic gospels, and share a lot of material. In these three you’ll find the same stories popping up, told in similar ways, and stylistically they are not too varied from each other. But John is different.

Most scholars think the gospel of John was written around AD 90–100, so several decades after Jesus’ death and after the writing of the other Gospels. That means that John is written after the church has had time to reflect deeply on who Jesus is. The result of that is that the earlier Gospels focus more on what Jesus did and said, where John focuses more on what it all means. We see that in the long theological conversations and the reflections about belief and eternal life.

So John is doing more than just telling stories about Jesus’ words and actions - he is interpreting them for a community of early Christians who already believe. He’s writing to people who have begun to experience alienation and rejection because of their faith in Jesus as the Messiah. So when John tells the story of Lazarus, he isn’t just telling his audience that Jesus can raise the dead, he is also telling us that through Jesus, God’s life has come into the world. He is reassuring his readers that Jesus really is as theologically significant as they believe. He is validating their choice of faith in Jesus over acceptance in society.

And there’s a reason we are having this reading today, the week before Palm Sunday, as John presents Lazarus’ death and resurrection as a trigger for the events of Holy Week. Lazarus lives in Bethany, which is only about two miles from Jerusalem. Jesus has been in the safer region across the Jordan river after only narrowly escaping being stoned in Jerusalem, and so returning to Bethany now means coming back into the danger zone. The disciples are very aware of this, leading to Thomas’ remarkable commitment, saying “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” They know full well that Jesus is putting himself at risk, but Thomas, despite the reputation he has with modern readers of being ‘doubting Thomas’, encourages the others to remain faithful in following Jesus no matter the cost. It seems that the disciples can sense where things might be heading.

But for Jesus, this is all about God’s glory. This is why he delays going to see Lazarus, knowing full well that by the time he got there, Lazarus would be dead. From Martha and Mary’s perspectives, Jesus fails them. He arrives too late, and they greet him from a place of grief and blame. Why didn’t he show up in time to heal Lazarus and stop him dying? I think in many ways this is a question we often carry, the question of why God didn’t show up sooner, the question, ‘Where were you?’ or ‘Why didn’t you stop this?’.

Jesus doesn’t answer these questions. He doesn’t offer the weeping sisters an explanation or a tidy theological solution, but instead he asks a question back. He asks Martha if she believes, and even now, even in the moment of thinking Jesus has let them down in such a way that she has lost her brother, she replies with a resounding yes: “You are the Messiah, the Son of God.” I love how we enter fully into all the emotions in this passage. We feel the confusion over the delay, the mourning of the loss, the finality of it having been four days, the reassurance of Jesus’ arrival, Martha’s faith, and then Jesus’ own grief. Despite knowing what will happen next, Jesus lives every moment with a depth that moves him to weeping. For the God John proclaims is not removed from suffering. He stands at the edge of the tomb and is shaken by it. And then, only then, Jesus calls Lazarus out.

Now John has been very deliberate in telling this part of the story. He highlights the point that Lazarus has been dead for four days. In the thinking of the time, people sometimes believed the soul lingered near the body for about three days, but by the fourth day death was considered completely final. On top of that, the body had begun to decay. As Martha explains, “Lord, already there is a stench.” There is no chance that Lazarus is just asleep, no chance that he’s in a coma or might recover. He is dead dead, and everyone knows it is over.

Now here we see God’s glory in full view. What happens next, when this dead man walks out into the light, is no mysterious resuscitation. It is not Jesus arriving just in time after all. Instead it is God bringing life where life was no longer possible. It is God’s glory thundering with power. It is an indisputable demonstration of Jesus’ relationship with God. So it is the week before Holy Week. Jesus has returned to the vicinity of Jerusalem, despite the animosity and danger. He has performed what is arguably his most dramatic and shocking miracle. And it is immediately after this story, three verses after the end of today’s reading, that the religious leaders say, “If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him.” This makes the raising of Lazarus the pivotal moment in John’s gospel: Jesus reveals his power over death, and as a result the authorities decide he must die. The stage is set.

The raising of Lazarus is a sneak preview of the loss of death’s finality. But God’s glory is about to be revealed through another death, another point of loss and grief, and another resurrection when all hope seemed lost, when loved ones stood before a tomb and wept. I wonder if this might be a point of resonance for us. There are all kinds of tombs we might find ourselves standing in front of: grief that has settled in too deeply, habits we can’t seem to shake, places where hope feels long gone. Places where we have come to believe: this is just how it is.

But Jesus does not stand at a distance. He comes close. He weeps. And then he calls: Come out. This is where John speaks to his community who feels like they have lost everything—their place, their identity, their security. And he is saying to them: even here, even now, life is not over. Because in Jesus, God is still calling people out of the tomb.

So as we stand on the edge of Holy Week, John’s gospel asks us this: do we believe that life can come out of places that feel completely lost? And are we willing to follow the one who brings that life, even when it leads us into places that feel costly, uncertain, or difficult? Can we say, with Martha and Thomas, “You are the Messiah, the Son of God… let us go with you.” Holy Week beckons.

John 11:1-45