Scripture readings for March 22, 2026, Fifth Sunday in Lent
Ez 37:12-14 Ps 130:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8 Rom 8:8-11 Jn 11:1-45
It is the seventh of John’s seven signs, the resurrection of Lazarus from the dead. It is a sign that at once tells us about Jesus and ourselves, that he is the resurrection and the life and that such is our destiny. That is, for those of us who believe.
As with any masterpiece, it’s a story to be discerned from many angles. Within the drama of John itself, for instance, the miracle of Lazarus is the controversy which pushes the plot toward the Passion; for after this, John tells us, “the Pharisees gathered the council, and said, ‘What are we to do?'” (Jn 11:47). That is, the story points us to Palm Sunday and to the Triduum; it alerts us that the tragedy is soon to unfold.
Mystagogically we can also read this story, again recalling the ancient scrutinies, as a parable of the catechumen’s journey toward baptism. Desiring the living water of God, receiving the light and sight of faith in Christ, now in death the Christian, the beloved of Jesus, receives resurrected life.
All these stories work as a symbol not only of baptism and life in Christ but of the future transformation of one’s earthly death into the gift of eternal life. That is, the Samaritan woman is us; the man born blind is us; Lazarus too is us.
This is also a story about the fulfillment of Christ, about how Jesus proves the truth of his words, the truth of who he is, by his deeds. “I am the light of the world,” Jesus says, and then in short order he gives the man born blind the light of sight (Jn 8:12; 9:5). “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus says, and then not long after that he shouts, “Lazarus, come out” (Jn 11:25; 43). What he is he accomplishes; the signs testify. He is the Messiah. He is light and life.
Which brings us to consider a spiritual truth. Jesus is resurrection and life; he is light too. That much is clear from what we have read of John’s Gospel thus far. But what’s beautiful is that the way we draw near to resurrection and life and light is by drawing near to Jesus, by loving him, by becoming his friend. Christianity is not some esoteric cult, some cold pure intellectual philosophy; rather, it’s humble friendship with God. It’s simply knowing and loving Jesus enough such that you can recognize his voice even from the grave.
The resurrection of Lazarus proves what Jesus said earlier in John’s Gospel. Arguing earlier in Jerusalem, Jesus said, “the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live” (Jn 5:25).
That’s why when Jesus heard of Lazarus’ death, he said that it was meant “for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it” (Jn 11:4). Because Jesus knew what he would do, that he would call his friend out from the darkness of the tomb into the light of life.
Again, because Jesus and Lazarus were friends. Repeatedly in this story the love between Jesus and Lazarus is underlined; that’s not an accident. “See how he loved him!” the onlookers say (Jn 11:36). In fact, over the years many scholars have wondered if Lazarus might have been the mysterious “Beloved Disciple,” but that’s beside the point. Rather, what matters is that what we see in John 11 is closer to what St. Thomas Aquinas put very simply, and that is that the perfection of charity is man’s friendship with God. Which, again very simply, is a friendship possible for each of us.
Are you close enough to Jesus that it makes sense for him to attend your funeral? That’s another way to put it. We attend the funerals of friends and acquaintances; sometimes we are close to the deceased while at other times we’re merely paying our respects. Family and close friends we honor and console. Who first received the news? Who needs to be there? These are questions of friendship. Who were the dead man’s friends?
If you were the deceased in question, where would Jesus fit into your funeral? Are you his friend? Is he yours? A close friend? A mere acquaintance? A fruitful meditation, maybe that’s a good way to pray about it. For I don’t know about you, but I want Jesus to attend my funeral, to call my name in the graveyard. Because I know what it did for Lazarus. I believe what it can do for me.
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.
