The Raising of Lazarus Is About Much More Than Lazarus

Today’s reflection is from Brian Flanagan (he/him), who holds the John Cardinal Cody Chair of Catholic Theology at Loyola University Chicago. He is a Senior Fellow at New Ways Ministry, and the Past President of the College Theology. His most recent book is “Stumbling in Holiness: Sin and Sanctity in the Church.” 

The liturgical readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent can be found by clicking here.

For many LGBTQ+ Catholics, the raising of Lazarus, which is today’s Gospel reading, provides a beautiful, inspiring message for our own journeys towards self-acceptance and new life in the face of the little deaths of self-denial, of self-hatred, of the closet. To state the obvious – after they roll away the stone, Jesus cries out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” Many of us have heard Jesus call us in this way to new life, to the risk of coming out to our families and to our church, to the risk of responding to Jesus call to flourish in a new and more authentic way.

“The Raising of Lazarus” by Vincent Van Gogh

But I’d like to focus here on a different aspect/detail/factor in today’s reading: the examples of Lazarus’s siblings Martha and Mary. I do so not just because I was born on the feast of St. Martha , or because I have a special devotion to Martha because like her I am often “anxious and worried about many things” when only one thing is necessary. And I’m not just doing this because New Ways Ministry’s co-founder, Sister Jeannine Gramick, also has a soft spot for Martha (“I like Martha. She’s practical and sensible. She’s a doer, an activist. And she speaks her mind.”) I want to focus on Martha and Mary because in this Gospel about new life and resurrection, we get reminded of the crucial importance of other people in our own journeys to new life, and of our own call to help roll away other people’s stones and untie them from what binds them.

The story of Martha and Mary, Jesus and Lazarus, starts long before this passage. Martha, Mary, and Lazarus are siblings, and Jesus seems to be included in their family as a visitor in their home and a guest at their table. As today’s Gospel states, “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” 

When Lazarus’ illness increases, it is the sisters who send word to Jesus , writing that “the one you love is ill.” Unlike so many of Jesus’ healing miracles, the afflicted person isn’t a stranger – the servant of a centurion, a desperate woman reaching for the hem of his garment – but family. This healing is rooted not only in the general sense of love for humanity or witness to the coming of the Reign of God, but rooted in love for a sibling.

And as we know, sibling relationships are complicated. When Jesus arrives – late – Martha ever-busy rushes out to meet him. Mary stays home – in sadness? In anger? Martha’s confession here parallels Peter’s in Matthew 16: “You are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” And even when she has her doubts a little while later (“Lord, by now there will be a stench”), it’s Martha’s faith in Christ, it’s Mary’s faith in Christ, it’s their love for Christ and for Lazarus, that allows Christ to perform this last sign, this last foreshadowing of his own resurrection, as an act of love for his sibling by choice.

Who are the people who have helped you out of your tomb? Who are the siblings, biological, ecclesial, or accidental, whose prayers and actions allowed Jesus to come close to you? To invite you to “come out” from a place of death or despair, to breathe new life and new hope into what only seemed to be bones and ashes and disappointment? 

Maybe they were the people who were most supportive you during a coming out process:coming out as LGBTQ+, coming out as an adult after years of formation, coming out as a person with a vocation that didn’t seem obvious to you or those around you, coming out from a divorce, from a loss, from a failed dream of what you thought would come to be. Who brought the life-restoring presence of Christ close to you when all seemed death? Hearing the good news of the raising of Lazarus today might be a moment for you to remember, in gratitude, the Marthas and Marys in your life – so many Marys! –  who made new life in Christ possible for you. 

As always, the good news is both a comfort and a calling. Whom are you called to help out of their tombs? Maybe it’s a trans person who needs to know, personally and directly, how much God loves them for who they are. Maybe it’s the Catholic parent of an LGBTQ+ child who needs your support, your accompaniment, the wisdom of your experience, as they let go of the hopes that they had and begin to see the beauty of their new dreams for them. Maybe it’s the seemingly homophobic or hesitant priest in your parish who needs help getting unbound from the fear in which they’ve gotten themselves trapped inside. Or maybe it’s something entirely unrelated to LGBTQ+ issues, but your experience of Christ’s love calling you to new life has, like Martha and Mary, helped you believe that Jesus is the Christ, the one coming into the world, the one who will show up where the tombs are with the promise of new life. 

As we approach Easter, we prepare to renew our own baptismal promises of faith in our God who wants us to have life, and to have it in abundance. May Martha and Mary and Lazarus pray for us to help make Christ present to all our siblings. 

–Brian Flanagan, March 22, 2026