After the final confrontation in the temple, our Lord went to the wilderness to carry on his ministry (10:40). The last verse in John 10 says, “And in that place many believed in Jesus.” His ministry was fruitful. But while he was there, a personal emergency arose in Bethany.

Jesus responded with a sermonette. Employing the traditional religious theme of light and darkness usually associated with good and evil, he applied these symbols to the imagery of travel by day and night. The former permits of safe travel whereas the latter is to be associated with the danger of stumbling. But picking up the theme from the Festival of Tabernacles that he was “the light of the world” (cf. 8:12; 9:5), Jesus reminded his disciples that the light enables them to see (blepein). Conversely, those who do not have the light in (en) them were in danger of stumbling. Time designations in John often carry powerful theological implications such as references to “night” (e.g., 3:2; 13:30) and “winter” (10:22). Like Nicodemus, who came by night, Jesus was implicitly suggesting in his sermonette that the disciples needed to deal with their spiritual condition of “nightness” by relying on the presence in their midst of “the light” (Jesus). Unfortunately, it will become evident in the crucial remark of Thomas (11:16) that the disciples were stuck in the fearful condition of night and were not responding to the presence of light.

Paul spoke of death as the last great enemy (cf. 1 Cor 15:26; Rev 20:14). To deal with that “last” enemy requires the Lord of life. In such a reality context of death Jesus told his disciples that he was glad he had not been at the bedside of Lazarus because what was about to happen would greatly enhance their believing (11:15)

Thomas is not a flat, one-dimensional character in John. He appears as a real person with genuine personality characteristics. Here he recognized the imminent danger that was lurking in the south, but he was willing to follow and to die with Jesus (11:16). History, I believe, has treated Thomas rather superficially. Although he can be labeled as a doubter, I cannot help but ask, Who would cast the first stone in condemnation (cf. 8:7) of him? Surely one can sense that his realism also was linked with courage here. And one must never forget that Thomas offered the major confession of this Gospel following the resurrection (20:28).

The organization of this chapter is rather straightforward. Following the introduction (11:1–4), the miracle story can be divided into four segments: Jesus’ dialogue with the disciples (11:5–16), his encounter with Martha (11:17–27), his encounter with Mary as well as the mourners (11:28–37), and the miracle at the tomb (11:38–44). The chapter then contains three final segments: the hostile reaction of the Jewish authorities epitomized in the Passover plot (11:45–53)

Humans generally interpret any delay in rendering help as cruel because of our perspectives on the avoidance of all pain and because of our general commitment to the immediacy of action as it pertains to time. But cruelty is hardly what this story is about.

When one reviews the time sequences in the story, it is quite possible that Lazarus was dead by the time Jesus received the message. By the time Jesus reached the tomb, the text says that Lazarus had been dead four days (11:39). Given the two-day delay and the time for travel, both of the messenger and of Jesus, it is not impossible that the sick man could have died while the messenger was en route. If such was the case, then the argument, as will become clear later, has an entirely different focus.

Paul prays that Christians will know the hope and the power available to them in Christ. He prays that the reality of their rich inheritance will transform them and that they will have a glimpse of the power of God at work when Jesus came from the grave. This is an apt description of the sort of confidence he carried as he stepped into Bethany that afternoon: God is victor over death. Jesus, as his Son, likewise understood God’s “incomparably great power” to call a man like Lazarus out of the tomb.

So the sisters sent word to Jesus, ‘Lord, the one you love is sick.’ Implied in this message was a request that Jesus come and heal Lazarus (cf. 11:21–22, 32). The basis of this request was Jesus’ love for Lazarus (cf. 5).

The sisters’ implied request to Jesus to come and heal their brother was based upon his love for Lazarus (3). In 11:5 the evangelist reiterates Jesus’ love for Lazarus and his sisters. This shows that Jesus’ failure to respond in the normal way, staying where he was for two more days, was not due to any lack of love for either Lazarus, who was on the verge of death, or his sisters, who had sent the urgent request for help. The NIV translation ‘yet when he heard’, which implies that Jesus’ delay was somehow at odds with his love for them, is misleading. The original (hōs oun ēkousen) should be rendered ‘so when he heard’ (as in the RSV), which shows that Jesus’ delay was not at odds with his love, but motivated by it. How could this be? When Jesus arrived, Lazarus had been dead for four days. Had he left immediately, Lazarus would still have been dead for two days. So nothing would have been gained by an immediate departure. However, there was something to be gained by waiting two days before setting out. The spirit of the departed was thought to hover around the body for three days in the hope of a resuscitation. The raising of Lazarus after four days, then, would be clearly seen as a manifestation of the glory of God (4), which would strengthen the two sisters’ faith.

This was not an invitation or even a request. They did not say, “Lord, please come.” They just assumed that as soon as the Lord learned of the situation, he would hurry there. They knew Jesus. They understood his wonderful compassion. The word they used for “love” is the word for friendship. They were saying, “Your good friend whom you love is sick.” Of course Jesus would come—to think otherwise was inconceivable.

The word translated “loved” here is a different word than the sisters used. It is the word agape—that unstoppable, highest type of love, the love of God. Christ loves us with that kind of love. Knowing this, we might expect Scripture to say, “Jesus, upon hearing that Lazarus was sick, went to one of his disciples, found a horse, and rode as fast as he could to be with Lazarus!” But that is not what our text says. Our text says he loved Mary, Martha, and Lazarus so much that he stayed away. Incredible!

From ground level it sometimes appears to us that even though we are Christ’s children and we love him, he does not care about us anymore. At times, humanly speaking, our circumstances seem to admit no other interpretation than that. I think about Joseph being sold by his brothers into slavery.

Here we read the story of the most dramatic, provocative miracle in this Gospel. Jesus is master of life and death and proves it by bringing Lazarus back from the grave.

John assumes that Mary (11:2) is so well known to his readers that he can refer to her as the one who anointed Jesus with oil even before he describes the scene (12:1–8).

No doubt they are in a dilemma. They know about the hostility of the Jerusalem’s leadership toward Jesus (11:8) and conclude that for Jesus to visit would mean considerable risk

to help us reflect on the confidence and power of the person of Christ, and to wonder at the truth and glory of his presence on the earth. As we have seen in other chapters (e.g., chs. 1; 4; 9), John 11 provides another catalogue of names for Jesus so that we as readers will not miss who this central character is (Jesus, rabbi, Lord, Christ, Son of God, he who is coming into the world, the resurrection and the life). Therefore John 11 teaches us not simply about an idea, but about a person.

They prepared Lazarus for burial, putting a white linen gown on him, poignantly called a traveling dress, and wrapped him lovingly with bandages and spices.

Have you ever felt that way? “Where were you, Lord? You came too late. Where were you when my loved one died? Where were you when my marriage dissolved? Where were you when my parents divorced? Where were you when my father became an alcoholic? Where were you when I was cheated out of my promotion? Where were you when my child went astray?”

This climactic miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead was Jesus’ public evidence of the truth of His great claim, “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” Death is the great horror which sin has produced (Rom. 5:12; James 1:15). Physical death is the divine object lesson of what sin does in the spiritual realm. As physical death ends life and separates people, so spiritual death is the separation of people from God and the loss of life which is in God (John 1:4). Jesus has come so that people may live full lives (10:10). Rejecting Jesus means that one will not see life (3:36) and that his final destiny is “the second death,” the lake of fire (Rev. 20:14–15).

We have to face the fact that even the most spiritual suffer difficulties, the delays of love. They ask the hard questions. But God meets them and elevates them.

This is certainly Jesus’ most dramatic sign. Those who have difficulty with the miraculous will find themselves stumbling here. However, John’s entire theology aims to affirm that God has indeed intervened in the history of the world. An incarnational theology at once makes room for a story like this, in which this God who comes into history has power over the natural human processes over which he is master.

It likely took the messengers one day to find Jesus, Jesus continues to work where he is two days, and then he takes one more day to travel to Bethany. This means that Lazarus likely died right after the departure of the messengers. When they meet Jesus, Lazarus is already buried.

Furthermore, this episode contains a strong personal command to believe in Jesus in a crisis, when such belief would be most difficult. All that preceded is preparatory; all that follows it is the unfolding of a well-marked plot.

IN order to visualize this scene, we must first see what a Jewish house of mourning was like. Normally in Palestine, because of the climate, burial followed death as quickly as possible. There was a time when a funeral was an exceedingly costly thing. The finest spices and ointments were used to anoint the body; the body itself was clothed in the most magnificent robes; all kinds of valuables were buried in the tomb along with the body. By midway through the first century, all this had become a ruinous expenditure. Naturally, no one wished on such an occasion to be outdone by a neighbour, and the wrappings and robes with which the body was covered, and the treasures left in the tomb, became ever more expensive. The matter had become almost an intolerable burden which no one liked to alter—until the advent of a famous Rabbi called Gamaliel the Second. He gave orders that he was to be buried in the simplest possible linen robe, and so broke the extravagance of funeral customs. To this day at orthodox Jewish funerals, a cup is drunk to Rabbi Gamaliel who brought release from the burden. From his time on, the body was wrapped in a simple linen dress which was sometimes called by the very beautiful name of the travelling-dress.

As many as possible attended a funeral. Everyone who could was supposed, out of courtesy and respect, to join the procession on its way. One curious custom was that women walked first, for it was held that since woman by her first sin brought death into the world, she ought to lead the mourners to the tomb. At the tomb, memorial speeches were sometimes made. Everyone was expected to express the deepest sympathy, and, on leaving the tomb, the others stood in two long lines while the principal mourners passed between them. But there was this very wise rule—the mourners were not to be tormented by idle and uninvited talk. They were to be left, at that moment, alone with their sorrow.

In the house of mourning, there were set customs. As long as the body was in the house, eating meat or drinking wine was forbidden, as was the wearing of phylacteries or engaging in any kind of study. No food was to be prepared in the house, and such food as was eaten must not be eaten in the presence of the dead. As soon as the body was carried out, all furniture was reversed, and the mourners sat on the ground or on low stools.

On the return from the tomb, a meal was served, which had been prepared by the friends of the family. It consisted of bread, hard-boiled eggs and lentils; the round eggs and lentils symbolized life, which was always rolling to death.

Deep mourning lasted for seven days, of which the first three were days of weeping. During these seven days, it was forbidden to anoint oneself, to put on shoes, to engage in any kind of study or business, and even to wash. The week of deep mourning was followed by thirty days of lighter mourning.

So when Jesus found a crowd in the house at Bethany, he found what anyone would expect to find in a Jewish house of mourning. It was a sacred duty to come to express loving sympathy with the sorrowing friends and relations of one who had died. The Talmud says that whoever visits the sick shall deliver his soul from Gehenna; and Maimonides, the great medieval Jewish scholar, declared that to visit the sick takes precedence over all other good works. Visits of sympathy to the sick, and to the sorrowing, were an essential part of Jewish religion. A certain Rabbi expounded the text in Deuteronomy 13:4 translated in the Revised Standard Version as: ‘You shall walk after the Lord your God.’ He said that text commands us to imitate the things which God is depicted as doing in Scripture. God clothed the naked (Genesis 3:21); God visited the sick (Genesis 18:1). God comforted the mourners (Genesis 25:11); God buried the dead (Deuteronomy 34:6). In all these things, we must imitate the actions of God.

Respect for the dead and sympathy for the mourner were an essential part of Jewish duty. As the mourners left the tomb, they turned and said: ‘Depart in peace,’ and they never mentioned the name of the one who had died without invoking a blessing on it. There is something very lovely in the way in which the Jews stressed the duty of showing sympathy to the mourner.

It would be to a household crowded with sympathizers that Jesus came that day

That is the highest form of courage. It does not mean not being afraid. If we are not afraid, it is the easiest thing in the world to do a thing. Real courage means being perfectly aware of the worst that can happen, being sickeningly afraid of it, and yet doing the right thing. That was what Thomas was like that day. We need never be ashamed of being afraid; but we may well be ashamed of allowing our fear to stop us doing what in our heart of hearts we know we ought to do.

This is a parenthetical note by the author. It was necessary for the author to reaffirm Jesus’ love for Martha and her sister and Lazarus here because Jesus’ actions in the following verse appear to be contradictory.

Furthermore, this episode contains a strong personal command to believe in Jesus in a crisis, when such belief would be most difficult. All that preceded is preparatory; all that follows it is the unfolding of a well-marked plot.

Thomas expected that Jesus would be seized and executed and that his disciples would suffer with him. Notwithstanding this unhappy prospect, Thomas’s loyalty is revealed by his readiness to share Jesus’ peril. The skepticism that Thomas later evinced regarding the Resurrection was probably prompted by grief over Jesus’ death rather than by disillusionment because of apparent failure.

Jesus said that he embodied the vital power to bring the dead to life: “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die” (Jn 11:25–26). The one who believes in Christ has eternal life that transcends physical death. If he is living and believing, he will never die but will make an instant transition from the old life to the new life. Jesus’ words are amplified by Paul’s statement in 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17: “The dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are led will be caught up with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.”

The statement “whatever you ask from God, God will grant you” by Martha presents something of a dilemma, because she seems to be suggesting here (implicitly at least) the possibility of a resurrection for her brother. However, Martha’s statement in 11:39 makes it clear that she had no idea that a resurrection was still possible. How then are her words in 11:22 to be understood? It seems best to take them as a confession of Martha’s continuing faith in Jesus even though he was not there in time to help her brother. She means, in effect, “Even though you weren’t here in time to help, I still believe that God grants your requests.”

God’s ways are not our ways (Isa. 55:8). They are much better.

These statements are highly ironic: For Lazarus, the sickness did not end in his death, because he was restored to life. But for Jesus himself, the miraculous sign he performed led to his own death, because it confirmed the authorities in their plan to kill Jesus (11:47–53). In the Gospel of John, Jesus’ death is consistently portrayed as his ‘glorification’ through which he accomplishes his return to the Father.

But even though they may not understand that Jesus’ death is the cost of giving Lazarus (and others) life, they are prepared to die with him (v. 16). As much as disciples loved their teachers, this is a rare expression of commitment in practice; in general, Jewish people emphasized only being prepared to die for God and his law.

11:20. The first week of deep grief after a close relative’s burial would be spent mourning in one’s house, sitting on the floor and visited by friends. This custom, called shivah (for “seven” days), is still practiced in Judaism today and is very helpful for releasing grief. Mourners abstained from adornment for the next three weeks and from common pleasures for the next year.

11:21–24. Prayers for comfort were standard, and this may be the import of verse 22. Conversely, Martha may be asking in verse 22 for her brother’s resuscitation, and verse 24 may test Jesus, pressing him further for the favor (2 Kings 4:16; cf. 4:28). Ancient Near Eastern peoples often sought favors from benefactors in such self-effacing ways, as opposed to the more direct modern Western approach (“Hey, can I have …?”).

His feeling is expressed by three words: “deeply moved,” “troubled” (v. 33), and “wept” (v. 35). The first of these (enebrimēsato) means literally “to snort like a horse” and generally connotes anger. It could not have indicated displeasure with the sisters whom he was trying to comfort and for whom he felt the strongest compassion. Perhaps it expressed his resentment against the ravages of death that had entered the human world because of sin.

The second word, “troubled” (etaraxen), expresses agitation, confusion, or disorganization. Here it implies agitation rather than complete confusion. Jesus was not apathetic or unnerved by the prevailing mood of sorrow. Lazarus had been a beloved friend, and Jesus shared in the common feeling of grief over his death. His human feelings were normal and are revealed by the crisis of the moment. Overcome by emotion, he gave way to weeping. Williams’s translation reads: “Jesus burst into tears.” His grief was spontaneous.

When Martha met his condition, which was the last step of faith she could take, Jesus took the next step. He did not ask God to raise Lazarus; he thanked him for having already answered. So great was Jesus’ faith in the Father that he assumed this miracle that was necessary to his mission to be as good as done.

While in the Synoptics Thomas only appears in the lists of Jesus’ disciples, in John he appears here and in three other places. He offers a question in the Upper Room (14:5), he appears a week after Easter in the famous “doubting” narrative (20:24), and he is fishing with Peter in the final resurrection miracle (21:2). But here he shows himself with courage and faithfulness (even though Thomas is certainly filled with misunderstandings about Jesus).

WHEN JESUS FINALLY arrives in Bethany Lazarus has been dead for four days. This note is significant. There was a well-known Jewish belief (attested from about A.D. 200) that the soul of a dead person remained in the vicinity of the body “hoping to reenter it” for three days, but once decomposition set in, the soul departed. John wants us to know clearly that Lazarus is truly dead and that the miracle of Jesus cannot be construed as a resuscitation.

Formal mourning lasted for seven days, called in Hebrew the shibah (cf. Sir. 22:12), and it commenced immediately on the day of burial, which took place on the same day as death. We can assume that Lazarus was buried in a rock-cut tomb of the type that have been discovered throughout the hills of Judea.12 Inside a cave room (perhaps ten to fifteen feet square) burial benches were carved in stone along the inner wall. The body was prepared here and then laid in horizontally cut burial tunnels (Heb. kochim) about six feet deep and there left to decompose. After a year or so, the body was removed from the koch and the bones placed in a limestone “burial box” (an ossuary). The tomb was closed (and reopened for further burials) with a wheel-shaped “rolling stone” fitted to cover the entrance in a stone channel.

His correction leads to one of the most famous and significant “I am” sayings in John’s Gospel. Jesus does not say that he can provide resurrection and life (though this is implicit). That in itself would be astounding. In fact, the Synoptics recount stories of Jesus’ authority over death and his ability to call someone back to life (e.g., the widow’s son in Nain in Luke 7:11–17; Jairus’s daughter in Mark 5:21–43). But Jesus says that he is resurrection and life.

In other words, eternal life and rescue from the finality of death are not merely gifts obtained by appeal to God; they are aspects of what it means to live a life in association with Jesus. If Jesus is life, then those who believe in him will enjoy the confidence and power over death known by him. This does not mean that Jesus’ followers will not die a physical death (11:25b), but that life will be theirs beyond the grave; they will not suffer death in eternity. Moreover, they will have a life now and do not have to await the end of human time and history in order to enjoy the benefits of Jesus’ power.

. Jesus is asking if her faith can embrace a belief in Jesus’ lordship over death itself.

In the Synoptic Gospels Thomas appears only in lists of Jesus’ disciples. We learn much more about him in the Fourth Gospel, where he features in four separate places: here in 11:16, urging his fellow disciples to follow Jesus into Judea, even if it means death; in 14:5, where he speaks on behalf of the other disciples, telling Jesus they do not know where he is going; in 20:24–29, where he expresses his unwillingness to believe Jesus has risen from the dead unless he sees him for himself; and in 21:2–3, where he is numbered among those disciples who go fishing with Peter, and to whom Jesus appears again following his resurrection.

At one level, Thomas missed what Jesus had in mind—they were not being invited to accompany Jesus on a suicide mission, but to see a manifestation of the glory of God and believe (4, 15). At another level, however, Thomas’ words were true; Jesus was on his last trip to Judea and there he would die.

Jesus did not wail. That is not the word used here. The word means that tears ran down Jesus’ face. We have a great God and Savior who loves us, who delays and stays away, who allows us to go through ultimate extremity, and then he comes and enters into our sorrow

A typical tomb in those days had eight occupants. It was a hollowed-out room, perhaps in a hillside. It had three indentations on one side, three on the other, and two at the end. Lazarus’ tomb could well have already been occupied by other bodies from previous years. Jesus asked that the stone be rolled away.

Jesus saw Mary and all the sympathizing crowd weeping. We must remember that this would be no gentle shedding of tears. It would be almost hysterical wailing and shrieking, for it was the commonly held view of the time that the more unrestrained the weeping, the more honour it paid to the dead.

We must have in our minds a picture of the usual Palestinian tomb. It was either a natural cave or hewn out of the rock. There was an entrance in which the bier was first laid. Beyond that was a chamber, usually about six feet long, nine feet wide and ten feet high. There were usually eight shelves cut in the rock, three on each side and two on the wall facing the entrance, and on these shelves the bodies were laid. The bodies were enveloped in linen, but the hands and feet were swathed in bandage-like wrappings, and the head was wrapped separately. The tomb had no door, but in front of the opening ran a groove in which was set a great stone like a cartwheel that was rolled across the entrance to seal the grave.

The NIV’s “weeping” leaves the impression of quiet tears of sadness, but the Greek tells a different story. The verb klaio describes loud wailing and crying, which is echoed by the people standing around Mary. Such loud public displays of grief (relatively foreign to us in the West) were common in this culture.

In classical Greek this word describes the snort of a horse (in war or in a race). For humans it describes outrage, fury, or anger. This nuance appears in its Synoptic uses (Matt. 9:30; Mark 1:43; 14:5) and undoubtedly must be applied here. Beasley-Murray cites Schnackenburg: The word “indicates an outburst of anger, and any attempt to reinterpret it in terms of an internal emotional upset caused by grief, pain, or sympathy is illegitimate.”17 This is further seen in the explanation John attaches: Jesus was not only outraged but “troubled.”

Jesus’ tears (11:35) are not for Lazarus, whose removal from the grave is imminent and whose life is going to show God’s glory. He knows what good surprises are in store for his good friend! Jesus’ tears should be connected to the anger he is feeling so deeply. The public chaos surrounding him, the loud wailing and crying, and the scene of a cemetery and its reminders of death—all the result of sin and death—together produce outrage in the Son of God as he works to reverse such damage.

The Greek word used here for Jesus’ weeping (ἐδάκρυσεν, edakrusen) is different from the one used to describe the weeping of Mary and the Jews in v. 33 which indicated loud wailing and cries of lament. This word simply means “to shed tears” and has more the idea of quiet grief. But why did Jesus do this? Not out of grief for Lazarus, since he was about to be raised to life again. L. Morris (John [NICNT], 558) thinks it was grief over the misconception of those round about. But it seems that in the context the weeping is triggered by the thought of Lazarus in the tomb: This was not personal grief over the loss of a friend (since Lazarus was about to be restored to life) but grief over the effects of sin, death, and the realm of Satan. It was a natural complement to the previous emotional expression of anger (11:33). It is also possible that Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus because he knew there was also a tomb for himself ahead.

11:39. The body would be wrapped and left lying on the floor in the tomb’s antechamber; only after a year, when the flesh had rotted off, would family members return to collect the bones into a box, which they would then slide into a slot on the wall. After four days (11:17), decomposition was well under way, especially because it was no longer winter (11:55). Whatever spices they may have used to delay the stench (cf. comment on Mk 16:1) would no longer be effective.

I am the Resurrection and the Life. This is the fifth of Jesus’ great “I am” revelations. The Resurrection and the Life of the new Age is present right now because Jesus is the Lord of life (1:4). Jesus’ words about life and death are seemingly paradoxical. A believer’s death issues in new life. In fact, the life of a believer is of such a quality that he will never die spiritually. He has eternal life (3:16; 5:24; 10:28), and the end of physical life is only a sleep for his body until the resurrection unto life. At death the spiritual part of a believer, his soul, goes to be with the Lord (cf. 2 Cor. 5:6, 8; Phil. 1:23).

Martha gave a great confession of faith in Christ. She agreed with Jesus’ exposition about eternal life for those who believe in Him. Then she confessed three things about Jesus. He is (a) the Christ (“Messiah”), (b) the Son of God—which is probably a title of the Messiah (cf. 1:49; Ps. 2:7)—and (c) the One who was to come into the world (lit., “the Coming One”; cf. John 12:13). She believed that Jesus is the Messiah who came to do God’s will, but as yet she had no hint of the coming miracle regarding her brother.

Deeply moved may either be translated “groaned” or more likely “angered.” The Greek word enebrimēsato (from embrimaomai) seems to connote anger or sternness. (This Gr. verb is used only five times in the NT, each time of the Lord’s words or feelings: Matt. 9:30; Mark 1:43; 14:5; John 11:33, 38.)

Why was Jesus angry? Some have argued that He was angry because of the people’s unbelief or hypocritical wailing. But this seems foreign to the context. A better explanation is that Jesus was angry at the tyranny of Satan who had brought sorrow and death to people through sin (cf. 8:44; Heb. 2:14–15). Also Jesus was troubled (etaraxen, lit., “stirred” or “agitated,” like the pool water in John 5:7; cf. 12:27; 13:21; 14:1, 27). This disturbance was because of His conflict with sin, death, and Satan.

But unless the sisters had trusted Jesus, permission would not have been given to open the tomb.

On other occasions Jesus had said that men would hear His voice and come out of their graves (5:28) and that His sheep hear His voice (10:16, 27). After His brief prayer He called (ekraugasen, lit., “shouted loudly”) in a loud voice. This verb is used only nine times in the New Testament, eight of them in the Gospels (Matt. 12:19; Luke 4:41; John 11:43; 12:13; 18:40; 19:6, 12, 15; Acts 22:23).

Jesus shouted only three words: Lazarus come out! Augustine once remarked that if Jesus had not said Lazarus’ name all would have come out from the graves. Immediately, the dead man came out.

It is one thing to say we are “saved,” but quite another to understand what it means to possess “life” now in the present. How do I proclaim this? How do I possess this without denying the reality of death?

meaning of v. 33. In contrast to German translations of this sentence, Beasley-Murray has argued convincingly that English polite translations (Including the NIV’s “he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled”) have failed to give sufficient negative impact to the Greek words in the sentence.328 The sense conveyed by most english versions is that Jesus was troubled along with the Jews over the death of Lazarus because he loved Lazarus (11:36). But that statement was made by the mourners, not Jesus. Clearly Jesus did not like death. Death, like sin, was an enemy for him, as it was for Paul (cf. 1 Cor 15:26, 54–57). His problem in this story, however, was not death. It was the mourners. Jesus was not a helpless human in the face of death. The story has a much different focus. Martha had been full of words, and here Mary and her supporters were full of tears and wailing. But for all of them Jesus was an unrecognized power in their midst.

Therefore Jesus asked for the tomb. It was then that Jesus wept (11:35). John carefully used a different word (dakryein) for Jesus’ tears, a word that is not used elsewhere in the New Testament. It was almost as though the evangelist wanted to send a signal to his readers not to misinterpret Jesus’ weeping. It is, I would argue, precisely what the Jews here did. They interpreted his weeping as the loss of one “he loved” (11:36). They also questioned why the wonder-worker could not “have kept this man from dying” (11:37; italics added). After all, he had already opened the eyes of a blind man (cf. 9:6–11). But the time for miracles had by their reckoning already passed. Clearly, it had been four days since the death of Lazarus, and for them the situation was closed.

Then what about Jesus’ weeping? The other places in the Gospels where such a depth of Jesus’ emotions were expressed are specifically places related to his mission: the places where he groaned over the failure of Jerusalem to come to him (cf. Matt 23:37–39; Luke 13:34–35), where he prayed for his disciples’ safety and future (cf. John 17:9–26), and where he wrestled with his death and the disciples’ weaknesses (cf. Matt 26:37–41; Mark 13:33–37; Luke 22:40–46; John 12:27–28). Accordingly, I would maintain that Jesus’ weeping here is directly related to the failure of his followers to recognize his mission as the agent of God. God’s Son was in their midst. They really missed the point. That fact becomes more evident in the next two segments of the story.

The point of this text, however, is that the world was about to receive a taste of God’s matchless power and grace that would conclude Jesus’ public acts of power and point beyond the event to his own resurrection. It would forever mark him as entirely unique.

In summary, the first and third commands involved the mourners. The second involved Lazarus and the great enemy, “death.” What is important to note is that Jesus performed the miracle, but he employed human agents to assist him with the circumstances. Thus the very mourners who doubted him were agents in the completion of the miracle. In their participation the mourners in fact became part of the sign and therefore were undeniable witnesses to the power of Jesus (11:47–48).

But this is another touch of John’s irony (a common ancient literary device): this was their view, not that of the Romans (18:38; 19:12); and although they killed Jesus, the Romans ultimately did take away their temple and nation, in A.D. 70, anyway.

In his own mind Caiaphas was no doubt giving voice to a common-sense statement of political expediency. Yet he was unconsciously echoing a saying of Jesus himself (cf. Mark 10:45). Caiaphas was right; the death of Jesus would save the nation from destruction. Yet Caiaphas could not suspect that Jesus would die, not in place of the political nation Israel, but on behalf of the true people of God; and he would save them, not from physical destruction, but from eternal destruction (cf. 3:16–17). The understanding of Caiaphas’ words in a sense that Caiaphas could not possibly have imagined at the time he uttered them serves as a clear example of the way in which the author understood that words and actions could be invested retrospectively with a meaning not consciously intended or understood by those present at the time.

Caiaphas meant Jesus had to be killed, but God intended the priest’s words as a reference to His substitutionary atonement. Jesus’ death would abolish the old system in God’s eyes by fulfilling all its types and shadows. His death was not only for Jews but also for the world, thus making a new body from both (cf. Eph. 2:14–18; 3:6). The Sanhedrin then decided to kill Jesus.

Jesus will die for the salvation of the nation. An unwitting prophecy here points to the cross since the salvation Judaism needs has less to do with Rome than it does with Jerusalem’s spiritual jeopardy.

The Lord of Life demonstrates that he is victor over death and in the end, he has death pronounced on himself. He dispenses life while his enemies try to take it away. We are even given signals in 11:55–57 pointing us to the festival (Passover), which is going to be the final feast of Jesus’ life. Life and hope as well as dread and doom hang over the chapter ominously.

Caiaphas tells us that Jesus’ death will be purposeful. Jesus will die for the people and the nation (11:50). Jesus will give life only by giving his own life. Central to any explanation of this chapter, therefore, must be a confident and compelling explanation of Jesus’ saving death and his personal victory over his own grave.

When we do so, we should place ourselves in the narrative and identify what it means to lose someone to death who is as close to us as Lazarus was to his sisters. We dare not trivialize death.

Baptism connects us to Christ’s death (6:3), but it also connects us with his resurrection (6:4). Paul summarizes, “If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection” (6:5).

Martha says that Lazarus will be raised in the future. But Jesus says that Lazarus is going to be raised now. This means that there is a real power available in the present experience of Christ that is unknown to the Jewish framework of Martha and Mary. The power of God resident in our lives today is the same power that will enable us to live for eternity. John no doubt hopes that this will be no small comfort for us. As L. Morris puts it, “Death is but a gateway to further life and fellowship with God.” As we think about death, it should be a passageway, not a terminus. Jesus’ power is in us and it will continue to carry us through that darkest hour, for nothing can ever separate us from God’s mighty love (Rom. 8:35–39).

His argument was that it was better for one man, Jesus, to be put to death, than that the whole nation of the Jews should perish because of a Roman crackdown. Caiaphas’ solution was rational and ruthless.

51–52. The evangelist comments on Caiaphas’ ‘final solution’, He did not say this on his own, but as high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the Jewish nation. There is evidence in the writings of Josephus that a high priest might function as a prophet and that it was thought that a ‘true priest’ was necessarily a prophet. There is also evidence in rabbinic writings that it was thought people might prophesy without knowing that they were doing so (Str-B 2, 546). In any case, the evangelist explains that Caiaphas was not speaking ‘on his own’ when he said Jesus would die for the nation.

Perspective is everything. As believers, we know that all our times of sorrow will eventually turn into joy. Revelation 21:4 promises:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

That is a wonderful verse about a fantastic future! But what about right now? We can choose our perspective.

The general belief was that the spirit of the deceased hovered around the body for three days in anticipation of some possible means of reentry into the body. But on the third day it was believed that the body lost its color and the spirit was locked out. Therefore the spirit was obliged to enter the chambers of Sheol (the place of the dead). The passing of the third day, therefore, signaled the conclusion of the last modicum of hope for the mourners.

But beyond resurrection, Jesus is also life.323 Accordingly, whoever experiences resurrection (“lives and believes,” 11:26) also will experience the great Johannine goal of life (20:31) or eternal life (3:16) and will never die (11:26, or perish, 3:16). Jesus’ statement to Martha therefore is not a tautology. Her brother was dead and even though he had entered Sheol (the four days), he was not beyond the range of Jesus’ power. Martha, however, could think only eschatologically about Lazarus and thus she was in for a surprise.