The Gospel of this last Sunday of Lent is of great intensity: theological and anthropological. John invites us, first of all, to recognize the glory of God in the corruption of the grave (cf. Jn 11,1-17); then our gaze turns to the furrow from which new life springs (cf. Jn 11:18-27). Now a great mystery happens: the tears of God on the face of Jesus (cf. Jn 11:28-38). Finally, we have a clear link between Jesus, the Father, and the power of the word of the Son of Man (cf. Jn 11:39-45). John initially presents initially the three family members of Bethany: Lazarus, Mary and Martha. This presentation has a significant parallel (in the Greek text it is more evident) with the calling of Philip and the mention of Andrew and Peter (cf. Jn 1:44). Concerning Lazarus it is said that he was from Bethany, and then the two sisters of Philip are immediately mentioned. Concerning Philip, it is stated that he was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. The latter were brothers (cf. Jn 1:40). Why is the parallel significant, which at first glance seems not to be? Simple! Because, with the resurrection (better the resuscitation) of Lazarus we understand how far the action of Jesus is prepared to go, towards those who have become disciples. Following Jesus leads to overcoming death (cf. Jn 8:51). When Martha and Mary send word to Jesus that Lazarus is sick, Jesus answers a little enigmatically stating that disease will not lead to death, but through it the Son of God will be glorified (cf. Jn 11:4). What does it mean? Jesus wants to affirm this: whoever gave joins himself to me through following, he has already passed from death to life. For those who have come out of the slavery of sin the life has no end because they enjoy the fullness of new life, the Holy Spirit. That’s why the death of Lazarus will be interpreted by the master as a sleep. That’s not a euphemism (that would have been in bad taste) but a new reading of death. Death, the real one, is separation from God; the natural transition of physical death is a sleep, sleep that allows God, as T. De Chardin wrote, «to penetrate us definitively and to assimilate us to Him. Death has the task of opening up this passage, right into the necessary depths of ourselves”.

Commentary by b. Sandro Carotta, osb
Abbazia di Santa Maria – Praglia (Italy)

Translation by f. Mark Hargreaves, Prinknash Abbey