Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
22 March 2026 Lent 5A
The raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-45) is the seventh (and last) of the “signs” performed by Jesus in John’s narrative. It unfolds in a series of dramatic scenes: Scene 1, vv 1-6: Jesus receives word from Mary and Martha that their brother Lazarus (“whom you love”) is seriously ill. Jesus says, “this illness does not lead to death, but is for the glory of God.” Two days pass. Scene vv 7-16: Jesus announces that he and his disciples will return to Judea. The disciples recoil; the Jewish leadership there only recently tried to kill him. Declaring (figuratively) that daylight hours remain, Jesus announces he is going to the home of Lazarus, who has “fallen asleep.” He clarifies: Lazarus is dead. Yet, this creates an opportunity for them “to believe” (vv 7-16). Whether bold or resigned, Thomas says, “let us go and die with him.” Scene 3, vv 17-27: Martha comes to meet Jesus on the road. “If you had been here, my brother would not have died,” she says. “But even now, God will do whatever you ask.” The last of the “I am” statements in John’s Gospel occurs here: “I am the resurrection and the life.” Jesus asks if Martha believes this; and she affirms her faith in him. Scene 4, vv 28-37: Martha goes home and sends Mary to Jesus. Like her sister, Mary says, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Overcome by grief, she bows at his feet, weeping. Moved and distressed, Jesus asks to be shown the tomb. There, Jesus weeps. Scene 5, vv 38-44: Jesus asks that the stone be taken away. Martha hesitates; decay has set in. Jesus replies, “Did I not tell you that if you will believe, you will see the glory of God??” The stone is removed. Jesus cries out, “Lazarus, come forth!” He emerges, bound in graveclothes. Jesus commands the onlookers to unbind him. NOTE: A full appreciation of the impact of this “sign” requires that another scene be included. Scene 6, vv 45-53: Many Jews witness Lazarus’ return to life and believe; but the religious leaders fear that the crowds gathering because of Jesus’ deeds of power will elicit a crackdown from Rome. They plot to kill Jesus.
These scenes portray from multiple perspectives our human struggle to trust the ways of God as we wrestle with disappointed hope, death, and grief. One might take the perspective of the disciples as they move through these scenes. They experience perplexity, alarm, apprehension—and wonder. What does it mean today to “unwrap the graveclothes” of those liberated from “tombs” of grief, depression, or addiction in to newness of life? Might we, too, need to set aside our expectations, timetables, and fears, and trust Jesus enough to follow him into places that seem devoid of hope?
Face-to-face with Jesus, Martha and Mary each express the age-old cry of faithful hearts stricken by grief: “If you had been here, our brother [our mother, our parent, our child] would not have died.” Jesus reveals himself to Martha as Resurrection and Life, asking her to trust him. She affirms her faith, though death seems already to have won. Mary, inconsolable, is different; she needs Jesus’ presence and empathy. Jesus weeps at the tomb alongside her. In our pews are Marthas who struggle with faith and Marys ravaged by loss. Lazarus’ story will challenge some to more profound faith in the one who calls us out of our tombs. Others need to sense that Jesus deeply shares their grief and tears. Death would come again, for Lazarus; but it would be different, then. For his sisters and friends had met long ago the one who is Resurrection and Life. Death cannot forever claim us.
Matthew 21:1-11 (Liturgy of the Palms)
The semantics of this text are, in part, kinetic and optic. In other words, its meaning is conveyed, in part, by the symbolism and timing of Jesus’ ride into the city of Jerusalem.
Roman governors such as Pontius Pilate annually visited the major cities under their jurisdiction. Ancient sources indicate that such visits were often timed to coincide with major festivals in those cities. Thus, a Roman entourage would have entered Jerusalem just prior to the annual festival of Passover. At Passover, faithful Jews by the thousands, including Diaspora Jews, thronged into Jerusalem. The dense crowds, filled with religious ardor and potentially nationalistic fervor, might well have been regarded as a destabilizing threat to Roman control. The annual visit of a Roman entourage, including the governor, dozens of officials, and a military escort, would have high impact. They very likely entered from Jerusalem’s western gate.
To this point, Jesus, has sought to mute rumors that he is God’s chosen one—the Messiah, “the anointed.” But now, he chooses a donkey and rides into Jerusalem, echoing the prophetic vision of Zechariah 9:9. Furthermore, Jesus enters quite deliberately from the east, from the Mount of Olives (cf Ezekiel 46:12), as opposed to the entry point of the representatives of the Empire. Jesus’ humble mode of transport, coupled with the timing and direction of his entry, signifies a “reign” quite different from that of Rome. The shouts of “Hosanna!” (“Save/liberate us!”—cf. Psalm 118:25) clearly indicate the heightened messianic hope stirred by Jesus’ highly symbolic final entry into Jerusalem.
Strangely, in Matthew’s account, Jesus is said to use not one animal, but two, to enter Jerusalem. V 7 states that Jesus sat on “them” to ride into the city (v 7). One explanation is that Matthew is somehow unfamiliar with the customary poetic structure in Hebrew that follows one phrase with another similar (but not identical) one and thus reads Zechariah 9:9 incorrectly, concluding that two animals are involved. Whatever lies behind Matthew’s statement, we need not imagine Jesus rather oddly straddling two beasts; perhaps when one tires, he mounts the other. We have encountered this sort of doubling in Matthew in the immediately preceding passage, Mt 20:29-34. According to Matthew, Jesus encounters not one blind man, but two, at the outskirts of Jericho. The other Synoptics speak of just one.
As readers who know how this story will unfold, we join in the Hosannas, yet cannot put out of our minds what we know, and they do not: this adoring crowd will turn on Jesus. We can be almost certain that, underlying the Passover crowd’s clamorous welcome as Jesus rides into the city is based partly on a mistaken expectation that the miracle-working Jesus has come to confront and defeat the Roman occupiers. As the week progresses, and this showdown does not take place, ebullient joy will give way to the bitter resentment of a populace that believes it has been somehow misled.
Yet, every Palm Sunday, it is altogether fitting that we take up our palms fronds and shout our praise, for this one who rides into the holy city on a poor man’s mount is on his way to a victory no one could have imagined: the defeat of death itself.
Insights into Biblical Greek Grammar and Syntax 