Lent: Finding the Fullness of Life through Trust and Hope

Fifth Sunday of Lent: March 22, 2026

Readings: Ezekiel 37:12–14; Psalm 130:1–8; Romans 8:8–11; John 11:1–45

Bringing solace and hope to those who are mourning or hopeless is a beautiful thing. It is an act of mercy. We need people who can comfort us when we are in sorrow or suffering. We need people who can put their shoulders on us and listen to us. In a world of competition and the rat race, very few have the time and willingness to do that. When we look at the life of Jesus, we see this aspect of readiness and willingness to comfort those who are mourning, despite a busy schedule or being far from home. Jesus touches the lives of his good friends, Martha and Mary. He reaches out to them at the very toughest time of their lives, when they have buried their beloved brother. At that moment, Jesus does an unimaginable thing: he raises Lazarus from the tomb and gives them back their loving brother, alive. This is what true friendship means: reaching out to those who trust us and love us at the right time with the right act of love.

1. Lent: Waiting for God in Patience

The Gospel of John 11:1–45, the raising of Lazarus, stands as one of the most profound revelations of who Jesus is—not merely a healer, but the Lord of life itself. Yet, before it becomes a story of resurrection, it is deeply a story of waiting, sorrow, confusion, and faith stretched to its limits. Jesus hears that Lazarus is ill, and surprisingly, He delays. This delay is unsettling. It challenges our instinctive belief that God must act immediately when we pray. 

Martha and Mary send word in faith—“Lord, the one you love is ill”—yet Jesus does not come at once. There is a silence of God here, a pause that feels painful. How often in our own lives do we experience this? We pray, we hope, and yet God seems to wait. This Gospel gently invites us to trust that divine delay is not divine neglect. God’s timing carries a purpose beyond our immediate understanding.

2. Lent: The Promise of God standing by us

When Jesus finally arrives, He encounters raw human grief. Martha runs to Him with a mixture of faith and disappointment: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Mary echoes the same cry. These are not words of unbelief, but of wounded faith. They reveal a relationship close enough to question, to lament, to express sorrow openly before God. Jesus does not reject their grief; He enters into it. God is not distant from human suffering. Jesus is moved, troubled, and deeply present.

This moment tells us something essential: before Jesus raises Lazarus, He first shares in the pain of loss. He does not rush past suffering; He dignifies it. In our own struggles, this is consoling. God does not stand apart from our tears; He weeps with us. He stands by us. He readies himself to give us healing, encouragement, or new life.

3. Lent: Time to be liberated and set completely free. 

At the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus commands that the stone be removed. There is hesitation—“Lord, by now there will be a stench.” This detail is important. It reminds us that what Jesus confronts is not a symbolic death, but a real and irreversible one. Often, we don't want God to enter into the “dead” areas of our lives—our failures, broken relationships, or long-held wounds. We fear the exposure, the discomfort, the vulnerability. Yet, resurrection begins when the stone is rolled away.

With one loud call, “Lazarus, come out!” Jesus reopens the life in him. Lazarus is back to life, full of life. It's not magic but real. Jesus asks people to help him be released into the new societal life.  When God unbinds us, there is a process of release. Life is a gradual process of liberation. This passage prepares us to enter into the mystery of Jesus’ own death and resurrection. Death is not the end or has the final word, even though we have to struggle with it as it affects us physically, emotionally, or spiritually. In Christ, life always has the last word.

Questions for self-reflection.

1. Do I allow Jesus to enter into my grief and pain, or do I try to handle everything on my own?
2. When have I experienced God calling me to “come out” of something—sin, discouragement, or complacency? How did I respond?
3. Where in our lives do we experience delay, grief, or a sense of lifelessness? 

Prayer

Lord Jesus, you are the resurrection and the life, and I come before you with all that I carry within me—my hopes and fears, my questions and my waiting. In moments when I feel burdened or when your ways seem delayed, teach me to trust in your quiet and mysterious presence. Enter gently into the places of my heart that feel lifeless or closed, and call me by name, just as you called Lazarus from the tomb. Give me the courage to roll away the stones of fear, doubt, and pride, and free me from all that binds me. Strengthen my faith when it wavers, deepen my hope when it grows dim, and help me to walk with you even through sorrow, believing that your love is always at work, leading me into new life. I make this prayer in Jesus' Holy Name, Amen.

- Fr Olvin Veigas, SJ
E-mail: olvinveigas@jesuits.net
Blog: Celebrate Faith
Video: YouTube
19 March 2026