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“Lazarus Comes to the Light”
Homily for the 5th Sunday of Lent (Gospel of John, Chapter 11)
March 9, 2008
By Fr. Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP
Blessed Sacrament Church
Many people have a favorite Gospel, one that inspires or speaks to them in a unique way. I love
the Gospel of John most of all. It is such a rich text. It is filled with nuggets of wisdom, and
hidden connections within the story. The Gospel of John has many layers of meaning. Images
like light and darkness do not simply refer to physical realities. There is the surface meaning of
the text, and then there are many symbolic meanings. Almost every verse means more than one
thing.
The Gospel is structured around a series of signs or miracles: the changing of water into wine,
the multiplication of the loaves, and so on. John the evangelist prefers to call them signs. These
signs point to who Jesus is. They manifest his glory, his deepest identity. Today, we have one of
the greatest signs or miracles, the raising of Lazarus. It is no accident that Jesus’ last public
miracle involves raising a dead man back to life. He is preparing us for his own death and
resurrection. We dig beneath the surface layer of meaning, and find that this sign points beyond
itself. It foreshadows Jesus’ resurrection. But that is just the second layer of meaning. There’s a
third layer of meaning. What is it? Wait and see!
Lazarus, Mary and Martha are close friends of Jesus. He not only liked them, he loved them
with agape, with self-less, sacrificial love. Jesus wants to manifest his glory through his most
intimate disciples.
Jesus utters an obscure phrase about walking in the daylight or stumbling in the darkness. To
walk without stumbling, one must have the light within. What is the light? Two chapters before,
Jesus tells us: “I am the Light of the World.” The one who believes in Jesus as Lord and Savior
has the light within him. You see faith is not just something I do in my head. Faith means that
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Christ dwells in me. By faith, Jesus lives in me. He begins to think with me, to will with me, to
love and act with me. He has entered the very depth of my being, into the intimacy of the heart.
But Lazarus is in a cave that serves as a tomb. It is probably the family tomb in Bethany, that
village just outside Jerusalem, and Lazarus is probably one of several people buried there. He
dwells deep within a place of darkness. He is a friend of Jesus, but he did not yet have faith that
Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life. Lazarus dwells in spiritual darkness. He is not a grave
sinner. Yet he is blind to the deepest reality of who Jesus is. Lazarus will be raised from the
spiritual death of unbelief to the life of faith. That is the deeper or third layer of meaning of the
raising of Lazarus. Jesus goes to awaken Lazarus from the slumber of unbelief. Lazarus is also
a symbol. He stands for all who want to be close to Christ but lack faith, those who admire
Jesus’ teachings, his example and his person but who are not quite ready to follow him. He
symbolizes those who live fairly upright lives but still lack belief in Jesus as Lord.
But what is faith anyway? Throughout the New Testament and in the Gospel of John, faith is not
just something that happens in the mind, or something that I do. Faith transforms the whole of
person. The believer follows Jesus to the Cross, like Mary and the beloved disciple, who are
loyal to the very end. Faith is inseparable from love, from the active love that lives according to
the ways of Christ. Faith turns all of life upside down. It is not a cheap ticket to heaven. Some
people want faith to be a magic formula. As long as I utter the words, I will go to heaven, no
matter what I do in the future. That’s not true faith, that’s a cheap form of grace. Faith enables
the light of Christ to penetrate to the core of our being. It changes every aspect of life, one step
at a time. That is faith authentic.
Jesus calls Lazarus toward the light: “Lazarus, come out.” Then he says, “Untie him, and let him
go.” The surface meaning is all about physical bandages. But in fact, Lazarus has been in
spiritual bondage. He has been chained down by sin, by ingrained habits of sin. Sin leads to
spiritual decay and even death. Whenever I keep sinning and fail to repent, the spiritual life of
my soul corrupts more and more, eventually leading to spiritual death.
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Each of us has his or her own set of chains. Some of us are terribly judgmental of others. We
attribute faults or weaknesses to others in our thoughts or by our words, weaknesses that may or
may not be there. Others put our prayer life last. We do everything else first each day or each
week. Then, if there is time left over, we give it to God. Some of us are abusive. Perhaps
you’re a professional at verbally abusing you’re co-workers. Maybe you practice emotional
abuse toward a spouse. Maybe you even engage in physical abuse in the family. Some of us
have an awful habit of gossiping. We enjoy tearing others down behind their back, and parade
their faults and failings around for everyone to see. Maybe we do it because we have a low selfimage, and we feel better when we can make others look bad. Or perhaps we don’t like some
people, and this is how we express our anger and frustration. Some of us have addictions. Some
are addicted to alcohol. We may say to ourselves: “I have to have my drink, every day. I have to
have more than one. I deserve this. I’ve worked so hard. I need to relax, to relieve stress. I’ve
earned it.” Or maybe you’re addicted to sex or Internet pornography. “Not tonight, honey, I’m
logging on. I have to get my fix. I have to look at the pretty pictures.” Pretty soon, the
chemistry of your brain begins to change. Soon, you really need your fix. You have to keep
looking. Some of us have bandages of sin that are easy to peel away. Others are virtually
imprisoned by their habits of sin. Some have bandages that are fairly loose, but some are tightly
bound and in chains. Now I realize that some of us need much more help than simply repentance
and a good confession. Some of us are a long way from healing. But the first and essential step
is conversion. The first necessary step is to confess our sins.
How does Jesus bring Lazarus back to life? He prays, and he speaks. Jesus prays to manifest his
humanity. He was really a man. In his humanity, he is subordinate to the Father, so he prays.
He also speaks the words, “Lazarus, come out.” The booming voice of Jesus is efficacious and
filled with power. In Genesis, how does God create? Does he mold heaven and earth as a potter
molds clay with his metaphorical hands? No, God speaks and it comes to be. He says, “Let
there be light,” and there was light. The human voice of Jesus partakes of divine power. The
God-man speaks, and it comes to be. He says, “Lazarus, come out,” and a dead man comes out
of his tomb. It really happened, it’s not just a story. Lazarus walks towards the opening of the
tomb, and what is the first thing that he sees? Jesus standing in the blinding daylight.
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The same life-giving power can still be found. This is the beauty of our Catholic faith. The
power of Jesus’ voice did not simply disappear from this earth when he ascended into heaven.
Jesus healed in sensible, tangible ways during his earthly lifetime, and he still does so. He is
present in his Church. In baptism, the priest and all in attendance pray to God. Then the priest
utters the words, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Spirit,” and new life begins in the one being baptized. In that instant, sin is wiped away and God
comes to dwell in the person as in a temple. A child becomes the child of God. In confession,
the priest and penitent pray. Then, the priest utters the words, “I absolve you from your sins,” or
rather, Christ speaks through the priest that he uses as his instrument. In that instant, the guilt of
sin is truly wiped away. A new life begins in the penitent. Those who committed grave sins are
resurrected from spiritual death and brought back to life. Others receive a deeper share in
Christ’s life.
Jesus still comes to the tomb, to the place of darkness. Do you know who Lazarus really is?
He’s you, and he’s me. Some of us are still in the darkness of unbelief. All of us are in chains,
bound by our habits of sin. He still comes to encounter us in real and personal way. His prayer
and booming voice still resound. Jesus can also raise you to new life. You see we cannot peal
our own bandages away. We cannot forgive ourselves. That’s a heresy. Only Jesus can heal us.
He is still speaking. But of course, that presumes that I recognize my need for help.