Lent 5
March 22, 2026
William G. Carter
Many
of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did
believed in him. 46 But some of them went to the
Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. 47 So
the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the council and said,
“What are we to do? This man is performing many signs. 48 If
we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will
come and destroy both our holy place[a] and our nation.” 49 But
one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know
nothing at all! 50 You do not understand that it is
better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation
destroyed.” 51 He did not say this on his own, but
being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus was about to die for the
nation, 52 and not for the nation only, but to
gather into one the dispersed children of God. 53 So
from that day on they planned to put him to death.
It’s a long story, so it may signal a short sermon. The problem is, there’s so much packed into the story, it’s hard to know where to start. Or how to finish.
Let’s start with the ending: “They planned to put Jesus to death.” It’s a signal that the religious leaders had enough. The conflict had been building for quite some time. Ever since chapter two, in fact. John tells us that Jesus disrupted the Jerusalem Temple from early on. As far as the religious leaders were concerned, the Temple was the center of the universe. That’s where the animal sacrifices atoned for sin and marked moments in human life – and Jesus turned over the tables.
Obviously, the leaders of the establishment set the tables up again as soon as he left. They rebooted business as usual. Yet Jesus was a marked man. They had him in his sights. And the stories began to accumulate. Up in the little town of Cana, he filled the purification jars with fresh wine. He healed a young boy at the point of death. He lifted up a man who hadn’t walked in thirty-eight years – and did so on the Sabbath. They perceived Jesus didn’t respect the customs of the people. He didn’t act as if he was bound by rules and rituals.
John’s gospel repeatedly tells us that Jesus was strangely indifferent to his own Jewish religion. Those who maintained the religion, who wanted to manage it, grew weary of this Galilean preacher and healer. The tension kept building. As we heard last week, Jesus healed another man on the Sabbath. The man extolled him, praised him as Messiah, and promptly got thrown out of his synagogue. Jesus found him, expressing in effect, “You don’t need a synagogue if you have a Messiah. Or if the Messiah has you.”
So, when Jesus returned to Jerusalem, the conflict reached a fever pitch. The religious leaders baited him, cajoled him, argued with him. He told them plainly, “I give the life of eternity to anybody I choose. I am the good shepherd, and my flock hears my voice.” Like a pack of wolves, they snarled at him. Growled.
Then he said it, “The Father and I are one.” With that, they picked up stones to hurl at him. They wanted to get rid of him, once and for all. Get rid of the troublemaker and things will get back to normal, isn’t that right? They reached out to grab him – and he slipped away. He went out to the desert where John the Baptist has splashed his water. This is where the story of Lazarus begins.
Someone found him to say, “Lazarus, your beloved friend, is sick. He’s not going to make it.” Jesus said, “OK, since he is sick, I’m going to stay right here.” It is a curious detail. But remember, in the Gospel of John, Jesus knows everything. He knows what he is going to do. He’s not going to rescue Lazarus. Instead, he is going to show everybody what kind of God we have. This has been his mission from the beginning. God is a God of grace and truth. He shows us who we are (that’s the truth). He comes to us in mercy (that’s the grace).
Now, this is a strange thing. All our lives, we have been trained by success stories. The plot goes like this: there is some kind of trouble, and the superhero comes to rescue us. Somebody is sick, he makes them well. Somebody is wounded; he lifts them up. Somebody is confused (like Nicodemus), or excluded (like the Samaritan woman), and Jesus makes it all better. But success is not the logic of the Gospel of John. Rather, it’s all about self-giving.
If you remember last week, in chapter nine, Jesus gives sight to man who has never been able to see. That’s when the man’s troubles begin. “Was blind but now I see,” and now I can’t go back to the way things were. And Jesus did that. He didn’t ask permission; rather, he took initiative. He healed – with grace – and life changed. Not because he was asked, but because he chose to do so.
It’s like that early story of the wedding in Cana. It must have been some blow-out. They ran out of wine. And the mother of Jesus (she’s never named in the Gospel of John, just the mother of Jesus) says to him, “They don’t have any wine.” What does he say? “Woman, what is that to me?” He doesn’t call her “Mama” but “Woman”! She says to the stewards, “Do whatever he says,” because he is the one in charge. What does he say? “Fill up those unnecessary ritual jars with water.” Out comes the best tasting wine anybody has ever had. Not because someone told him to do it – not even his Mama – but Jesus chose to do it.
So, Mary and Martha say, “Come quick. Our brother is dying.” To which Jesus says, “This is not going to be a rescue, but a revelation. I’m going to show you God is the God of the living. He is the God of life eternal. God is the fountain of generous life.” And each of the sisters says to him, “You know, Lord, we were hoping you got here in time to rescue him. He’s the one you love. You know, the beloved one.”
What they see is something more than that. Never before has anybody been raised from the dead! Revived, perhaps. Rescued just in time, sure. But never before raised. Yet this central to the Gospel story because Jesus is the One who gives life. As he said, just a few verses before the story began, “I give the life of eternity to the world.”
The problem is this world is a world of death. This world wants to run by control and force. This world operates on brutality and pain. The leaders of this world have no desire to be interrupted by grace or truth. In fact, they make fun of anybody who would hold them accountable, saying, “Good riddance, they deserve to die, I’m glad they are dead.”
But here comes Jesus, from the will of the Father. On behalf of the God of eternity who gives life, Jesus pierces the illusion of control. He offers freely what brutality can never manage. He raises Lazarus from the stone-cold tomb. By choosing to do that, he chooses to enter his own stone-cold tomb. This is how the world obsessed with death will treat the Author and Giver of life. And such a world will continue to mislead itself into thinking it continues in control.
As we hear today, Jesus raises his friend from the dead – and the world decides to kill him. It’s the only thing the world knows how to do. This is the truth Jesus has come to reveal. It’s the end of the story, of course, but it is the truth about where we live and how things usually operate – by self-interest, by greed, by the intoxication of control.
By self-interest: the high priest Caiaphas says, “It is better to get rid of him so we can stick around.”
By greed: Caiaphas and his priestly bunch were the richest folks in all of Jerusalem.[1] They wanted to stay that way. Rome could ensure that.
By the intoxication of control: the religious priesthood had a relationship with the Roman Empire, a toxic marriage of religion with politics. In that agreement, religion was not allowed to critique politics. In turn, religion got a piece of the power. It was a dangerous game. I hear it still goes on in some places.
This is the deadly mix that led to the death of Jesus. This is why Jesus wept. If it were a matter of compassion, grief, losing his friend, Jesus could have hurried up to rescue him. Yet it was not a rescue story. It was a revelation. What was revealed was that this world is no friend of life – and that Jesus continues to be the giver of life. That is why he has come, so that whoever trusts in him will receive life, here, now, and forever.
So, Jesus weeps. In the Gospel of John, this is his Gethsemane moment. This is the moment when he faces what he must do and what it will cost. He chooses to give life to Lazarus, to give life to the world, and he chooses to do it by giving his own life so that all of us will live.[2]
It is an astonishing story. More than a miracle, it’s a sign of what kind of God is sending Jesus to us. As we will hear next week and beyond, the story goes on. Yet for a moment, the conclusion is already clear. Jesus is more than the final resurrection. He is the Living One, the Life of God, our Life, Eternal Life. He continues to live.
By contrast, John says, “Caiaphas was high priest that year.” Actually, the high priesthood was a lifetime appointment, but John says, “that year.”[3] It’s his way of giving an elbow to the cruel and greedy leaders of this world. All of them have expiration date, while Jesus Christ continues to be completely, thoroughly alive.
This tired old world can do whatever it wishes to the Messiah. Yet even with his wounds, Jesus comes to us, breathes on us, breathes his life, and says, “I do not give to you as the world gives.” For it is his life given to us. This is what he chooses.
And Jesus says, “Very truly, anyone
who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and does not
come under judgment but has passed from death to life.”[4]
[1] See, for instance, “Profiteering in
the Temple,” https://thingspaulandluke.wordpress.com/2020/11/27/profiteering-inside-the-temple/
[2] See Fred B. Craddock, “A Two-Fold
Death and Resurrection,” online at https://www.religion-online.org/article/a-twofold-death-and-resurrection-jn-1125-26/
[3] Gail O’Day, “John,” The New
Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2015) 697.
[4] John 5:24
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