Fifth Sunday of Lent
(Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John
11:1-45)
The Gospel according to Saint John is a
literary masterpiece. It tells a compelling story, but even more importantly,
it reveals the meaning of the Gospel through literary devices. Before speaking
about one of these devices in the Gospel, it may help to give an example.
Everyone knows the story of Pinocchio. He is
the puppet whose nose grows longer every time he tells a lie. The growing nose
functions in the story as a symbol, a type of literary device. In this case,
the symbol shows how lying deforms a person’s character.
The evangelist John says that Jesus performed
many “signs” during his ministry. For him, the miracles of Jesus are signs, but
not exactly in the same sense as in the other Gospels. For Matthew, Mark, and
Luke, Jesus’ healings are mighty deeds that show he comes from God. John has a
deeper understanding of signs. For him, signs are symbols that reveal not only
that Jesus comes from God, but also different aspects of who he is.
At the beginning of his Gospel, John writes
about the “Word” who “was with God” and who “was God.” The signs help reveal
who this Word is. John recounts seven
signs, although at the end of his Gospel he says that Jesus performed many
others. The first sign is when Jesus turns the six jars of water into excellent
wine at the wedding feast of Cana. In this sign, Jesus is revealed as the one who
replaces the rituals of the Old Testament with the new worship that comes
through him.
Today’s Gospel recounts the final sign before
Jesus’ death: the raising of Lazarus. In this sign, Jesus is revealed as the
living Son of God who has power over death.
In his First Letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul calls death “the last
enemy” of Christ. By this he means that death is not only the final enemy but
also the greatest one. Death separates us from our loved ones. It makes us feel
the weight and shame of our sins. It represents the unknown, where we might be
lost forever. Finally, as the end of earthly existence, death seems to deny our
value. Few people want their lives to be short; most of us want to live as long
as possible.
To avoid death, some people try to live very
healthy lives. They follow low-fat diets and exercise every day. Others, less
realistically, believe they can defeat death through technology. Some even plan
to have their bodies frozen when death approaches, hoping to be revived someday
when a cure for their illness is discovered. The story of Lazarus in today’s
Gospel points us to another remedy for death. It is less complicated than diets
and exercise, and infinitely more reliable than technology.
Jesus, the Son of God who has power over
death, is a friend of Lazarus. When he receives the news that Lazarus is
gravely ill, he eventually comes and calls him out of the tomb. We too want to
be friends with Jesus so that he will come and raise us when we die. How do we do this? First, by professing our faith in Jesus, just
as Martha does in the Gospel. Jesus tells her:
“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, even though
he die, will live; and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
It is also necessary that, moved by the
Spirit we receive in Baptism, we practice works of charity. The Gospel of
Matthew quotes Jesus saying that those who feed the hungry and visit the sick
will be rewarded with the Kingdom of his Father.
Father Cecil was a kind and wise Benedictine
monk. When he was around seventy years old, he was diagnosed with brain cancer.
Knowing that death was near, someone asked him if he was afraid. “No,” the
priest replied. “I have advised many people that God is there waiting to
receive them. How could I fear my own death?” Like Father Cecil, when our time
comes, may we trust in Jesus and die in peace.
