Lazarus Unbound

This is part four of a five-week series on the raising of Lazarus. Catch up starting with part one here, and subscribe to get the next installment in your inbox!

We read the story of the raising of Lazarus during my last Greek class in seminary. I was so moved by reading it in the original language that I knew I had to do a sermon series on it. The opportunity for a series of three sermons came last summer. When I first set out to do the series, I assumed that the basic message would be encouragement and consolation. After all, the raising of Lazarus is a picture of the resurrection that we all can look forward to. It's a foretaste of what Jesus says a few chapters earlier in John:

Truly, truly, I say to you, an hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself. And he has given him authority to execute judgment, because he is the Son of Man. Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment. (John 5:25–29, ESV)

One small problem.

Notice that the point of Jesus' words is not that we should look forward to the resurrection on its own. Rather, his descriptions of the final resurrection at the end of history are always coupled with talk of judgment. Resurrection is only a consolation for "those who have done good." It's actually a bad thing for "those who have done evil!"

This was in the back of my mind as I prepared and delivered the first two sermons (on verses 1–16 and 17–38a). It might never have been resolved for me if I hadn't spent some time puzzling over a small detail in the last part of the story:

When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go." (John 11:43–44)

Now, I'd never suggest preaching an entire sermon on "Unbind him, and let him go." Nor should it be a central point of a sermon. But it is interesting that John includes this detail.

There is one obvious connection within the gospel of John. When Jesus rises from the dead, John tells us in 20:6–7 that Peter finds Jesus' graveclothes and face cloth neatly folded. In his own resurrection, Jesus displays far more autonomy than Lazarus had. Jesus did not emerge from the tomb bound with linen strips. Nor did he need bystanders to untie him.

But could there be anything else going on here?

Modern commentators don't comment much on this detail, so I went back to look at what earlier commentators say.

John Chrysostom (d. 407), archbishop of Constantinople, was always the literalist. In Homily 64 on John, he suggested that Jesus has the bystanders help so that they won't think it's an illusion. They get to touch the formerly dead guy themselves. Jesus assures them that this is no mere vision or hallucination.

Augustine (d. 430), bishop of Hippo in north Africa, represented the other end of the hermeneutical spectrum. In his homily on Psalm 102, he drew a connection between this command and Jesus' declaration in the other gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) that

whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. (Matthew 18:18)

Indeed, this language of "binding" and "loosing" is the same in John 11 as it is when Jesus says this in the synoptics. But Augustine's connection is a little far-fetched: penitent sinners have already been awakened by God, but the Church must still "loose" them by means of confession of sin. This is a bit too allegorical for my taste.

Then it hit me: maybe there's a connection between my worries about John 5 and what happened when Lazarus was raised!

Jesus' talk of resurrection in John 5 was coupled with talk of judgment. Now, Jesus' command to Lazarus ("Come out!") is coupled with a command to the bystanders to "unbind" him and "let him go." Even if we don't go full Augustine, this does sound like acquittal language. Lazarus receives a foretaste of the glorious resurrection of the righteous on the last day – the resurrection that Martha had hoped Jesus could provide for him.

In contrast, Jesus elsewhere uses the opposite language when he speaks of the resurrection in parables:

Let both grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, "Gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn." (Matthew 13:30)

Then the king said to the attendants, "Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 22:13)

Now, again, I didn't end up writing a sermon on this one phrase. But I did include a brief reflection. Someday we all will hear Jesus shouting through the winding sepulchers of the earth, calling us forth – either to glorious life or to judgment. When you awake from the tomb on that last day, which would you rather hear: "Unbind him, and let him go," or "Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness?"

But can any of us who have "done evil" hope for the "resurrection of life" (to use the words of John 5)? Resurrection isn't an unequivocally good thing. We need an assurance that the right kind of resurrection awaits us. This was the assurance that Martha had for her brother's future – all because Jesus loved him. And next week, we'll conclude our series on John 11 by considering the high priest Caiaphas's prophecy – which contains one of the most powerful statements of the gospel in the entire book: that Jesus died on behalf of his people.

This is part four of a five-week series on the raising of Lazarus. If you haven't already, you can catch up starting with part one. Subscribe with your email, or follow on Bluesky or the Fediverse to receive the next installment!