Hearing The Word

A weekly newsletter delivering context and insight into the Sunday Gospels.

March 22, 2026

Fifth Sunday of Lent

John 11:1-45

Now a man was ill, Lazarus from Bethany, 

the village of Mary and her sister Martha.

Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil 

and dried his feet with her hair; 

it was her brother Lazarus who was ill.

So the sisters sent word to him saying, 

“Master, the one you love is ill.”

When Jesus heard this he said,

“This illness is not to end in death, 

but is for the glory of God, 

that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.

So when he heard that he was ill, 

he remained for two days in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to his disciples, 

“Let us go back to Judea.”

The disciples said to him, 

“Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, 

and you want to go back there?”

Jesus answered,

“Are there not twelve hours in a day?

If one walks during the day, he does not stumble, 

because he sees the light of this world.

But if one walks at night, he stumbles, 

because the light is not in him.” 

He said this, and then told them,

(Continue Reading)

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Jesus Fulfills His Promises in

Raising Lazarus

~Rev. Thomas Whittingham

Pastor, Saint Laurence Catholic Church + Upper Darby, Pa.

This week the Church proclaims the Gospel of the raising of Lazarus from Gospel of John (11:1–45). This passage lays the scriptural foundation for the Third Scrutiny celebrated with those preparing for baptism at the Easter Vigil. Throughout Lent, the scrutinies invite the elect, and indeed the whole Church, to deeper conversion as the gospels for these Sundays follow a deliberate pattern: living water, light for the blind, and finally victory over death.

Within John’s Gospel, the raising of Lazarus stands at a pivotal moment. Chapters 1–12 are often called the “Book of Signs,” a section in which Jesus performs a series of escalating miracles that reveal his divine identity. These signs include the transformation of water into wine at Cana, the multiplication of loaves, and the healing of the man born blind. Each sign reveals something about who Jesus is. Yet the raising of Lazarus is widely recognized as the greatest and most dramatic of these signs, because it reveals Jesus’ authority over death itself.

The narrative carefully builds toward Jesus’ declaration to Martha: “I AM the resurrection and the life (Greek = zoe).” In the Gospel of John, Jesus does not simply teach about resurrection as a future event. Instead, he identifies resurrection with his own person. Eternal life (zoe) is not merely something God gives at the end of time; it is already present in the one who believes in Christ and who eats his flesh and drinks his blood (see John 6). What Christ bestows is eternal and God-given life rather than the merely ‘biological’ (Greek bios) life of the world around us that blossoms and fades so quickly.

The story also shows the depth of Jesus’ humanity. Standing before the tomb of his friend, whom he knows he is about to raise, the Gospel tells us that “Jesus wept” (Jn 11:35). This moment boldly demonstrates to us that Christ truly enters into and experiences human grief and suffering. Yet the scene does not dwell on sorrow. Jesus summons Lazarus from the tomb, demonstrating that the power of God’s eternal life is stronger than ‘biological’ death.

For the elect undergoing the Third Scrutiny, as well as all of us praying for them, this Gospel proclaims the heart of the Christian hope they are preparing to receive in baptism. Through the waters of baptism, believers pass from death to eternal life and share already in the resurrection of Christ.



As Lent draws near to Holy Week, the Church places this Gospel before us to remind us that the One who will soon approach the Cross is the very author of life. The Resurrection of Jesus is a private, secret moment. But the raising of Lazarus shocked the world. As you prepare your heart for Easter are you ready to be summoned by Jesus Christ to new, abundant, and eternal life?

Standing in the Pause



~Christine Eberle

Saint Vincent de Paul Catholic Church + Philadelphia, Pa.

For how long had Lazarus been sick? How many sleepless nights had Martha and Mary spent trying to keep his fever down? Had there been a debate about whether to send for Jesus? If so, which sister had favored haste, and which delay—and did that become a dagger between them when their brother died? When they finally sent word, did they know how far away Jesus was, and calculate when he would arrive? How betrayed did they feel when he never came?

The first eleven verses of this Gospel focus on Jesus: his decision to let his friend die so that God would be glorified, and his frustration with the disciples’ customary obtuseness. But all the while, back in Bethany, the sisters were enduring what so many of us have: the dawning terror that their loved ones illness might prove fatal, the desperate measures matched by desperate prayers, and the rituals designed to hold people up in the wake of searing loss.

All of that would have been in Martha’s heart when she went tearing down the road to meet Jesus. Often, when this Gospel is proclaimed, there’s barely a breath between “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” and “even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” But if you listen with your heart, you will hear the pause—the sobbing accusation—between Martha’s first words and her final ones. In that pause, Jesus stands. Loving Martha. Sharing her grief. Strong enough to receive her anger. Infinitely patient. He knows her story does not end where she thinks it does.

God’s hand is poised to roll away the stone. Can we let Jesus hold us through the pause—no matter how long it lasts?