John 11

CHAPTER XI

V

Jesus’ Final Attestation Before the People, Chapters 11 and 12

The public ministry of Jesus is fast drawing to its close; only about three and a half months are left. In 10:40–42 we catch a glimpse of Jesus’ activity during this time. Now John proceeds with the great events that mark the end of this period: first the Raising of Lazarus, then the Royal Entry into Jerusalem, with the important incidents closely connected with these great events.

I. The Attestation in the Crowning Miracle and its Effect, Chapter 11

Lazarus is Raised from the Dead, 11:1–44

John presupposes the acquaintance of his readers with Luke 10:38–42. Now there was a certain person lying sick, Lazarus from Bethany, of the village of Mary and Martha, her sister. John at once strikes the keynote, “there was a certain person lying sick,” the participle ἀσθενῶν being used as the predicate of ἦν. One link follows another in the story: the sickness—the message—the delay of Jesus—the death of the sick man—the return of Jesus into the territory of his enemies—the miracle—the plotting that ends in Jesus’ death. God always sees the end from the beginning, whereas our eyes are holden. An example like this should teach us to trust his purposes and leadings “when we cannot see our way.” We have here the first mention of Lazarus.

His name is contracted from Ἐλεάζαρος, “whom God helps.” While John uses two prepositions: “from Bethany, of the village,” the two express only one fact, that Bethany was the native town of Lazarus. Another “Bethany” (wrong reading “Bethabara”) is mentioned in 1:28; hence the addition here: “the village of Mary and of Martha, her sister.” This Bethany lies just beyond the ridge of Mount Olivet. Mary is mentioned first, although she seems to have been younger than Martha; the reason is added in v. 2 (compare 12:1, etc.). Since the sisters are already well known to John’s readers, he is able to refer to them for identifying the home of Lazarus.

John 11:2

2 With δέ John adds a necessary parenthetical remark. Moreover, it was the Mary that anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was lying sick. In Matthew’s and in Mark’s account of the anointing in Bethany we read only of “a woman”; John tells us her name and connects this Mary with Martha, whom we know as her sister from Luke 10:38, etc., and with Lazarus, their brother, whom we now meet for the first time. Thus John carefully supplements the other evangelists and fits his account into theirs. John has two substantivized participles to characterize Mary’s act, telling us that she not only used the ointment upon Jesus but also humbled herself by using her hair upon his feet. The aorists denote single past acts, past from the writer’s standpoint.

For ἦν John might have written ἐστίν: “it is” the Mary; with ἦν he carries her identity back to the time of which he now writes, when Lazarus lay sick. Then already she “was” the Mary of whom we now say that “she did anoint,” etc., (aorists). So also John writes “the Lord” and not “Jesus,” since this is a remark intended for his present readers and not part of the historical narrative. The fact that Lazarus was the brother of the two sisters we learn from the relative clause which mentions only Mary: “whose brother Lazarus,” etc. It is Mary whom John evidently means to distinguish. This again appears in v. 45 where she alone is named.

Her importance rests on Matt. 26:13. In 12:1, etc., John himself relates the anointing of Jesus in its historical connection; when in the account about Lazarus Mary is here made so prominent, this is done because what happened with regard to Lazarus in a way led to the great and significant act of Mary. Thus it was Mary’s brother of whom we hear once more ἀσθενεῖ, that he was lying sick, this repetition intimating the gravity of his condition.

John 11:3

3 After the explanatory remark in v. 2 resumptive οὗν goes on with the story proper. The sisters, therefore, sent to him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is lying sick. This must have been done when death began to threaten. We may imagine how the sisters called on Jehovah for help, and how their thoughts turned to Jesus who had healed so many. Alas, the wicked plotting of the Jews had driven him far away. In verses 21 and 32 we see the longing that filled both hearts alike.

Finally a messenger is dispatched in haste. The message sent is remarkable. It merely states the fact that Lazarus is sick, although with “behold” it emphasizes that fact. It does not say how sick Lazarus is, it leaves that to be inferred. It sends no direct appeal for help; it leaves wholly to Jesus what he will do. This restraint is remarkable.

Yet who will deny that the sisters hoped Jesus would restore their brother to health?

“He whom thou lovest,” they say, resting the case entirely on his love, not on their brother’s love, or on their own love to Jesus. They use φιλεῖν, the love of affection and personal attachment, not ἀγαπᾶν, the love of the spirit and of reason. In v. 5 Jesus uses the latter when he tells of his love for Lazarus and the sisters. Trench remarks that φιλεῖν might be used by Jesus in regard to the brother but would have been contrary to the fine decorum of the language of the Scriptures where the sisters are included. This message with the clause “whom thou lovest” affords us a glimpse of the affectionate friendship which Jesus bore to Lazarus. It is friendship of the truest kind, which, as Augustine says, only needs to know.

Yet here is what troubled the hearts of these sisters, even as it still troubles many a Christian—to be a friend of Jesus, embraced in his true and tender affection, and yet to lie sick, to grow helplessly worse, to die at last—just as if Jesus, our Friend, had forgotten! Our answer to this is that above the φιλεῖν stands the unfathomable and blessed ἀγαπᾶν.

John 11:4

4 The messenger found Jesus, and, we may assume, supplemented the set message he was to convey with words of his own about the sad condition of Lazarus. Now having heard it, Jesus said, This sickness is not unto death but for the glory of God, that through it the Son of God may be glorified. John does not say that this word was addressed to anyone in particular, yet unless Jesus gave the messenger some other word to report, this must have been his answer to the sisters. It must be noted that Jesus does not say that Lazarus will not die but only that this sickness is not πρὸςθάνατσν—its final result and outcome is not death. This is a statement of fact not of purpose. With Lazarus being at the verge of death it is the more striking. In the light of what follows we see that Jesus here actually promises the miracle which brought Lazarus back to life.

Here ἀλλά does not introduce the direct opposite of “unto death.” This would require a second πρός coupled with a term to denote “life.” Jesus does not need to state this opposite, for it lies in the negative—what does not end in death must end in life, for nothing lies between. Now the preposition is ὑπέρ with the genitive: “for the sake of,” “in behalf of the glory of God.” This states the reason why this sickness has come to Lazarus. It tells, not of the outcome, but of the purpose back of both the sickness and its outcome; this is the furtherance of “the glory of God,” which, of course, cannot mean the heavenly glory, the sum of God’s perfections, incapable of any increase in themselves, but the earthly manifestation of this glory as it shines out more and more fully among men and is seen more and more clearly by men. This glory could have been enhanced by Jesus’ healing of the sickness of Lazarus; it was to be enhanced by an even greater miracle, by raising Lazarus from the dead. This is another case like that of the blind beggar in 9:3.

The purpose clause, “that through it the Son of God may be glorified,” elucidates the short phrase “for the glory of God.” The verb “may be glorified” has the same sense as the preceding noun “glory,” an act which makes the divine perfection of Jesus shine out the more before men that they may see these perfections the more fully and clearly. The agent back of the passive verb is God himself: he intends to use this sickness of Lazarus (διά denotes the means) to reveal Jesus more fully as his own Son. Compare 1:48–51; 2:11. God’s glory shines out before men when the glory of Jesus as God’s Son appears to them, when the two are recognized, the one as the Father and the other as the Son (1:14). The shining forth of the glory of the Son of God is the shining forth of God’s own glory; for: Gloria Dei et gloria Filii Dei una gloria, Bengel. With great plainness Jesus here once more calls himself ὁυἱὸςτοῦΘεοῦ (10:36; 1:34).

This world found lodgment in Martha’s heart when afterward she confesses, “I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, who comes into the world,” v. 27. In the raising of Lazarus especially two of the divine attributes came to view, omnipotence and mercy. Jesus exercised these attributes and thus revealed himself as the Son of God. He exercised them in the execution of his mission from the Father; thus the Father and the Son are equally revealed in the exercise of these attributes by Jesus. Even now the revelation of the glory has begun, for Jesus speaks as one who is in full possession of the purposes of his Father and thus declares these purposes in advance. And all this glory of the Father and the Son is connected with our salvation (17:2).

John 11:5

5 Another parenthetical remark is now inserted, in order that we may read aright what follows. Now Jesus was loving (and thus acted in accord with this love in what he now did) Martha and her sister and Lazarus, ἠγάπα, with the all-comprehending and purposeful love of the Son of God. The order in which the three are mentioned is probably that of their ages. “And her sister” couples Mary with Martha. Lazarus lay dying—a black cloud lay over the home in Bethany, but above it shone the love of Jesus.

John 11:6

6 Human love would have hurried to Bethany with all speed to arrive, if possible, before death set in. Divine love acts otherwise and also has the divine knowledge for its work. When, therefore, he heard that he was sick, then he remained for two days in the place where he was. With οὗν the narrative is resumed. But we mark the repetition that Jesus “heard that he was sick” (the Greek retains the original present tense “is sick,” v. 2), which makes the impression that Jesus deliberately remained right where he was for two entire days, i.e., that he purposely waited here until Lazarus actually died.

One need not assume that Lazarus was already dead when the messenger reached Jesus, or that he died before the messenger’s return to Bethany. Both suppositions are based on the four days during which Lazarus lay in the tomb (v. 17), counting one day for the messenger to reach Jesus, two days for Jesus’ delay, and one day for Jesus to travel to Bethany. We are not sure that the messenger reached Jesus in one day—he may not have known exactly where to go, for John mentions no definite place where Jesus was. The manner in which Jesus afterward announces the death of Lazarus to the disciples leaves the impression that Lazarus had died just then, and that Jesus knew of it by virtue of his omniscience. The actual death of Lazarus is thus the signal for Jesus to start for Bethany. He had no reason for hurry.

Lazarus was, no doubt, buried the day on which he died, as was customary in that climate. On the fourth day following, Jesus reached Bethany. Thus Lazarus lay in the tomb part of the day on which he was buried, two full days besides, and part of the day on which he was raised from the dead. The number four, here as elsewhere in the Scriptures, indicates a certain completeness. Jairus’ daughter was raised immediately after her death, the widow’s son at Nain during the course of his funeral, Lazarus from the tomb after decomposition was under way. The messenger returned before the death.

On his deathbed Lazarus heard the word of Jesus which the messenger brought back. Yet death sat upon his brow, and either that night or the next day Lazarus died.

John 11:7

7 Then after this he says to the disciples, Let us go into Judea again. Note the antithesis between τότεμέν in v. 6 and ἔπειτα, R. 1152. The double adverbial expression “then after this” draws especial attention to the time and the delay, as if something important had finally occurred to demand a return to Judea. The subjunctive “let us be going” is hortative, R. 931. “Into Judea” is used instead of “to Bethany” because of the danger involved, as the next verse shows.

John 11:8

8 The disciples say to him, Rabbi (see 1:38), the Jews were but now seeking to stone thee; and goest thou thither again? The imperfect ἐζήτουν (10:39) marks the unsuccessful attempt, R. 885. Even the disciples, themselves Jews, put a hostile sense into “the Jews.” They vividly recall 10:31 and 39. Will Jesus again put himself into mortal danger? The disciples say nothing about themselves; their thought is first of Jesus, yet v. 16 shows how they certainly would not let Jesus go alone, no matter what the danger.

John 11:9

9 Jesus answered, Are there not twelve hours of the day ? If a man walk in the day, he does not stumble because he sees the light of this world. But if a man walk in the night, he stumbles because the light is not in him. Jesus is speaking of the ordinary working day, which extends from morning until evening and was thus divided into twelve hours. This was the popular way of counting even where otherwise the Roman method of reckoning the legal day from midnight to midnight, or the Jewish method from evening until evening, was used. The same is true with regard to the time of life and labor which God allots to a man—there are its twelve hours.

Jesus implies that his own earthly working day is not yet ended, and that even if now it be the twelfth hour for him, he shall have also that hour for his work, and nobody shall be able to rob him of it by killing him before the time. Compare 9:4: “We must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day; the night cometh, when no man can work.”

Jesus says, “If a man walk,” and not, “If he work,” because he has just proposed a journey back to Judea. He keeps to the figure when he adds, “he does not stumble,” using the present tense, as in maxims, not the future, R. 1019. The reason for not stumbling is plain: “because he sees the light of this world,” daylight is all about him. Just as the twelve hours of the ordinary working day are made light by the sun in the heavens, enabling a man to complete his day’s task; so the time of life granted by God to a man is full of light in order that he may accomplish the work God wants him to do. The statement is entirely general and refers to God’s children in general as well as to Jesus in particular. Only Jesus saw the day of his life and every hour of it with perfect clearness, while our eyes are often clouded because of sin.

He, therefore, moved amid dangers with an assurance and fearlessness that astonishes us. We can only place ourselves into God’s hand, doing his will as his Word and his providential indications point it out to us; yet we, too, are to know that the time he wants us to have will surely be ours—the entire twelve hours, even if we do not know just which hour each is as it arrives.

John 11:10

10 The statement about “the night” is so evidently a counterpart to the one on “the day,” that we do not think, either that Jesus now alters the figure, or that he now no longer refers to himself. As the day with its twelve working hours pictures the length of life allotted by God, so the night pictures death as the end of life’s day. Correspondingly Jesus describes our life as “seeing the light of this world” and our death as “the light not being in us.” The thought is deeper than is generally perceived, for “the light” is used in a double way. When we are alive we see the light of this world (the sun) because our life is itself a light and is thus able to see; when we are dead, not merely the sun is taken from us, but the very light that is in us ourselves (life) is gone. This explains the stumbling, which like the walking and the opposite of walking, is used with intensive force. We should not think of walking the entire twelve hours—nobody does that; likewise we often stumble, in the ordinary sense of the word, even during the day. To walk and not to stumble means to go on with our life’s work; to stumble means to come to the end of our life’s work, for this is something that happens not merely when the daylight ceases, but when the light in our own eyes goes out in death.

What causes some odd interpretations is the failure to perceive that here again, as in 10:1, etc., Jesus uses Biblical allegory, i.e., weaves together figure and reality. The key is in the question, “Are there not twelve hours in the day?” Night merely ends these hours, and we are not to think of another twelve hours for the night. We lose the thread when we think that seeing the light of this world and the light not being in us are merely ornamental touches without significance; the one describes life while it lasts, the other death when life is past. The thought is again misunderstood when walking in the day is made faithfulness in our calling and stumbling in the night unfaithfulness; or the former, to remain in our calling, or to remain in fellowship with Christ (the light), and the latter to forsake our calling, or to leave Christ; or variations of these ideas. These are untenable because Jesus speaks of himself as well as of his followers. “If a man walk in the night, he stumbles,” does not mean that he goes on, but now stumbling along in the dark; for Jesus does not add, “because he does not see the light of the world,” but, “the light is not in him,”—he is dead: “the night cometh when no man can work,” 9:4.

Jesus reassures the disciples: though he returns to Judea, his enemies will not be able to cut short his life and work, as these were allotted to him by his Father; he will not die until his earthly mission is accomplished. And their own lives and labors are under the same divine control—let them not fear what men threaten to do.

John 11:11

11 These things he spoke, pausing at this point to allow the disciples to ponder a little on his significant words. And after this he says to them, Lazarus, our friend, is fallen asleep, but I am going, that I may wake him out of sleep. So this is why Jesus determined to go back into Judea. He calls Lazarus “our friend.” This plural “our” is noteworthy, for Jesus always distinguishes between “our” and “your,” and “your” and “my.” Here Jesus raises the disciples to a position beside himself, into that blessed circle of which he, the Master and Friend, is the center. As the friend of Jesus, Lazarus is the friend of the disciples. So it should ever be among all the friends of Jesus.

Not the slightest indication appears that a messenger from Bethany brought the news of Lazarus’ death. The very contrary is implied, for if a messenger had come, the disciples would have heard about the death from him. Here, then, is a case where Jesus uses his omniscience in his mission. This, too, is part of the miracle recorded by John. The announcement is one word: κεκοίμηται, “sleeps,” the perfect denoting a present state, R. 895. “Since the days of old men on earth, and among them the children of Israel, used this euphemism in speaking of dreadful death because of the outward similarity and in order to cast a soft veil over the grave; but in the mouth of the Lord this figure of speech turns into reality.” Stier. To speak of sleeping “is to indicate secretly the resurrection from the dead, since they who sleep have the hope of rising again.” Luther.

“Our friend,” but not, “Let us go and awake him.” “Our friend,” but, “I am going, that I may awake him,” although the “I” is not made emphatic by an ἐγώ. Someone has written a little book on the striking manner in which Jesus manifested his deity by his use of the personal pronouns. In Bethany all is still dark—the shadow lies heavy on the sisters’ hearts, doubts, questions, disappointment wrestle in the gloom with faith that strives to find and to hold the hope in the words Jesus sent by the messenger. But beyond the Jordan the sun is already shining: “I am going that I may awake him out of sleep.”

John 11:12

12 The disciples, therefore, said to him, Lord, if he is fallen asleep he will be saved, i.e., from death, by recovery. The conclusion is the more natural since two days ago Jesus had said that the sickness of Lazarus was not “unto death,” i.e., to have death as its end, but for the glory of God and of his Son. Had not Jesus healed the officer’s son at a distance, 4:50–52? Had he not during the past two days acted as if Lazarus had been dismissed from his mind? It seems like going too far to charge the disciples with “grave misunderstanding.” Of course, they do not understand, but their lack of understanding lies in their failure to connect the going of Jesus to Bethany to wake up Lazarus with the sleeping of Lazarus. For the intimation is that, if Jesus does not go and wake him up, Lazarus will remain asleep.

This is the intimation the disciples fail to perceive. Any natural, health-restoring sleep would not last until Jesus made the long journey to Bethany. Just how the reply of the disciples applies to the proposal of Jesus to go and to wake Lazarus up is not indicated by John. Did they mean, thinking as they do of natural sleep, that Jesus will not need to go to wake him up, that he will wake up on his own accord long before Jesus arrives? Do they include the thought that with Lazarus on the way to recovery Jesus will not need to make the journey and run into danger? Or did they think nothing at all about this proposed waking up of Lazarus and express only their gladness at his prospective recovery?

John 11:13

13 Here again John adds a parenthetical remark. Now Jesus had spoken concerning his death; they, however, thought that he spoke concerning the resting of sleep. Quite generally this parenthesis is passed over without further remark. To be sure, Jesus referred to death, and the disciples thought only of “the resting of sleep,” appositional genitive, R. 498. That need not be said; every reader perceives that without being told. Then why this remark? “They (ἐκεῖνοι) thought” means to say: the rest—not John himself. He at once perceived what Jesus had in mind.

John 11:14

14 Then Jesus said to them with plainness, Lazarus died. Only two words. The brevity heightens the effect. The aorist simply states the fact. When did he die? The answer is: just now. How did Jesus know? The answer is: by the use of his omniscience in this important part of his mission. Both announcements, that in v. 11 and now that in this verse, read as though Lazarus had just died and as though this is the signal for Jesus to proceed to Bethany.

This first consideration which induces some to place the death at least two days earlier is the one in regard to the four days mentioned in v. 17, which we have cleared up in v. 6. Hence we need no explanation as to why Jesus either kept the fact of the death from the disciples for two days, or that he himself did not learn of the death until just now. In support of the former we are told that Jesus withheld the news because he wanted to start so late in order that Lazarus might lie in the tomb so long a time. Those who choose the latter alternative tell us that not until now the death “entered the consciousness of Jesus” by an intimation from the Father. Both are cases where a misconception introduces difficulties, for which some plausible explanation is then made. Some even suppose that a second message from Bethany brought the news of the death.

A second interpretation introduces the Father into the narrative as controlling every word and every movement of Jesus. He first informs Jesus only to the extent that the sickness is not unto death but has a higher purpose. He does not permit Jesus to heal Lazarus at a distance, or at once to go to Bethany. But now, after two days, he orders Jesus to go to Bethany, either ordering him now to raise up Lazarus, or giving this order only after Jesus arrives at the tomb. Jesus is made a tool of the Father and is placed on a level that is no higher than that of the prophets or the apostles after they were in their ministry. This is evolved out of the prayer of Jesus in v. 41, 42.

John’s narration is without a trace of this detailed control; in fact, throughout the emphasis is on what Jesus himself does. This control of Jesus by the Father, furthermore, involves specious ethical considerations. Lazarus dies “without the knowledge and will of Jesus.” It would be wrong for Jesus to wait for his death and then proceed to act. Thus some have Lazarus die before the messenger reached Jesus, or at least before Jesus and the messenger could have reached Bethany. At any rate, the work Jesus was just now doing in Perea compelled him to stay two days, so that he could not go earlier—and thus Lazarus died. These complications are furthermore involved with the supposed directions from the Father.

This structure with its various ramifications falls to pieces when we recall that all that happened to Lazarus certainly happened “with the knowledge and will” of the Father. Who will apply ethics to the Son which do not apply equally to his Father?

In v. 4 Jesus promises the resurrection of Lazarus. That means the death of Lazarus and the fact that Jesus will not prevent that death. On the prayer at the tomb see v. 41, 42. Both the Father and Jesus are agreed that this shall be the crowning miracle, i.e., that Lazarus shall be raised after lying in the tomb so long that his body has begun to decay.

John 11:15

15 It is not a word of grief but one of joy which Jesus adds to the announcement of the death: And I am glad for your sakes, to the intent that I was not there; nevertheless, let us go to him. This gladness emanates from far higher considerations than those which we ordinarily connect with sickness, death, and bereavement. Jesus is glad because his disciples—and not only they—shall now see the glory of his Father and of himself as the Son of God revealed in the resurrection of Lazarus. The phrase “for your sakes” is at once denned by the purpose clause, “that you may believe.” No object is needed with “may believe,” for faith as such is intended. The aorist πιστεύσητε may be ingressive, “come to believe,” which, since they already believe, would mean a new and higher start in faith; in 2:11 “his disciples believed on him,” although before the miracle they already had faith.

When the circumstance “that I was not there” is made “a divine dispensation,” one which Jesus “had not willingly and purposely occasioned,” the fact is overlooked that the Father and the Son never act apart from each other, yea, that Jesus here says that he himself rejoices in this “divine dispensation.” Ethically it is no more wrong to occasion a circumstance than to rejoice in it when occasioned by another. Nor is Jesus guilty of dissimulation in rejoicing over what he himself helped to occasion. This confusion of thought disappears when the words of Jesus are taken together as they stand: he rejoices, not because of his mere absence from Bethany, but because of this absence in combination with what it will produce for his disciples. The emphasis is not on the clause “that I was not there” but on the phrase “for your sakes,” defined by “in order that you may believe.” If the Father and Jesus had arranged for Jesus to be at Bethany during the sickness of Lazarus, Jesus would have healed his friend, and the miracle would have been one of a common type; by the dispensation, in which both the Father and Jesus concur, a miracle comes to be wrought that exceeds in its revelation of the glory of the Father and the Son all the other miracles of Jesus, that brings the most wonderful blessings to those that behold and believe. God and his Son still deal thus with us. At the time of their dispensations we may feel and speak as did the sisters in Bethany (verses 21 and 32), presently, like Jesus, we, too, shall be glad.

“Nevertheless, let us go to him,” is adversative (ἀλλά) to the preceding clause, “that I was not there.” Now it is time for Jesus to be there and for his disciples likewise.

John 11:16

16 Thomas, therefore, who is called Didymus, said to his fellow-disciples, Let us go, that we, too, may die with him. This pessimistic response of Thomas is usually understood as our versions indicate, “Let us also go, that we may die with him (Jesus).” In v. 11 Jesus, indeed, says, “I am going,” but he does not use ἐγώ, as though, possibly, the disciples might not be willing to go. The singular is used because Jesus alone is the one who will awaken Lazarus. When in v. 7 Jesus the first time says, “Let us go,” the disciples show reluctance, yet not on their own but on Jesus’ account. From the start (v. 7) Jesus takes it for granted that the disciples will go with him. Their fear in regard to himself he fully removes in v. 9, 10.

So now in v. 15 there is no other thought than that all the disciples will accompany Jesus. But this leaves the emphatic καὶἡμεῖς of Thomas wholly in the air if it is construed with ἄγωμεν, “Let us too go.” Grammatically and otherwise this is proper only if Jesus had just said, “I (ἐγώ) am going,” i.e., whatever you may decide to do. What Thomas really says is, “Let us go, that we, too, may die with him (with Lazarus).” As so often in John, the emphatic words in a ἵνα clause are placed before the conjunction. The credit for this correct reading belongs to W. Bleibtreu.

Thomas thus appropriates the phrase of Jesus, “Let us go to him (to Lazarus).” “Yes,” Thomas says, “let us—that we, too, may die with him (dead Lazarus).” This is pessimistic unbelief. It is the very opposite of what John intimates concerning himself in v. 13. Thomas does not believe that Jesus will be able to raise Lazarus from the dead. The veiled promise of Jesus has kindled no hope in him. Going back to Judea, they may all run into death. The assurance of Jesus in the allegory has not assured Thomas.

Three times when Thomas is introduced (here and in 20:24 and 21:2) John adds the Greek equivalent for his Hebrew name; the root of the latter means geminus, “twin,” as well as duplex. Some regard this nomen as an omen of the dual character of this disciple, once brave, even heroic and then black with gloom; or, referring to 20:24, a man divided, a doubter. But it would be strange, indeed, to find one of the Twelve marked thus for life with a name perpetuating a fault in his character. Just as the Hebrew name Thomas, given to him at the time of his circumcision, was merely his name, so was its Greek translation Didymus. He may very well have been a twin child, the other of the twins not surviving. John here and elsewhere adds his Greek name, not as a mere translation, but because afterward Thomas was generally just called Didymus.

Thomas addressed only the other disciples; Jesus makes no reply—his reply will come at the tomb of Lazarus.

John 11:17

17 Omitting any reference to the journey, John places us in Bethany. Having come, therefore, Jesus found that he was already four days in the tomb. On the four days see v. 6; ἔχειν with an adverb is intransitive, R. 799–800, literally, “found him being already,” etc. The time spent in the tomb is here mentioned in order to show that the death occurred at the time when Jesus announced it in v. 15.

John 11:18

18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, about fifteen stadia off. This parenthetical remark explains for Gentile readers how the visitors from Jerusalem easily reached Bethany. The Greeks reckon the distance from the far point forward, hence ἀπό: “from” the capital to Bethany. The distance is about two miles.

John 11:19

19 And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary in order to condole with them concerning their brother. The term “Jews” here, too, bears a hostile note as far as the attitude of these visitors toward Jesus is concerned; note v. 46. Visits of sympathy and condolence were made to the bereaved for seven days. The fact that many Jews from the capital felt constrained to pay these visits to the sisters in Bethany is evidence of the prominence of the family, which also seems to include wealth. It has been called “an insinuation lacking good taste” to think that these visits were anything but friendly.

John 11:20

20 Martha, therefore, when she heard that Jesus was coming, met him, but Mary continued sitting in the house. Instead of making Martha busy either outside of the house or in the kitchen, while Mary sat among the visitors, we prefer to think of both sisters as sitting in the house with the visitors. Since ὅτιἸησοῦςἔρχεται reads like a quotation, we take it that this was the word that came to Martha. If some villager had spied Jesus and his band of disciples approaching the village, he would have blurted out the news to all the company. So Jesus must have sent some friendly messenger with orders to tell only Martha. He slipped in and whispered to her; she quietly stepped out, leaving Mary and the company undisturbed.

She went to the outskirts of the village where Jesus was waiting to receive her alone. No move is made to proceed to the house (v. 30). No outsiders are at hand.

John 11:21

21 As she reaches Jesus, the thought that had again and again passed through her mind as well as through Mary’s during the long, heart-breaking days of waiting, while Jesus did not come in response to the message sent him, involuntarily rises to her lips. Martha, therefore, said to Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother would not have died. Mary’s first word to Jesus is identical with Martha’s, v. 32. The condition is one of past unreality (εἰ with the aorist, the aorist with ἄν), with ἦς in the protasis doing duty for the aorist (R. 1015, “Sometimes ἦν is aorist”). Martha’s word is neither accusation nor reproach but deep sorrow and poignant regret. When Lazarus was sick, the sisters longed, “Oh, if only he were here!” Then they sent him word, but Lazarus died, and so the regret set in, “Oh, if only he had been here!” So many sick he had healed, and yet their brother had to die. “If thou hadst been here”—who will write the story of these sad, sad “ifs”?

John 11:22

22 The fact that no reproach is intended appears from the way in which Martha at once voices her faith in Jesus. Even now I know that whatever thou wilt ask God, God will give thee. “Even now!”—with my brother dead—even in the face of this—I still believe! This resembles Asaph’s faith, surmounting all fears and doubts, “My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever”—read in connection with the entire 73rd Psalm. And Job’s word, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,” 13:15. The strength of this faith comes out in οἶδα, “I know,” the verb denoting knowledge based on intuition or information, Abbott-Smith under γινώσκω. Martha is firmly convinced by all that she has seen and heard of Jesus; and her conviction holds in spite of what now seems so dark to her, so hard to explain.

In stating the sum of her knowledge two things are plain: that she did know much, but also that her knowledge fell short of the full reality. The indefinite relative clause ὅσαἂναἰτήσῃ is one of expectancy: Martha rises to the height where she expects Jesus to ask something of God. This hope she could base only on the positive assurance of Jesus that the sickness of her brother was not “unto death” but “for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified thereby.” The word ὅσα, “whatever,” a distinct echo of the word used repeatedly by Jesus, is especially great, both in its wide sweep and in its indefiniteness, leaving what Jesus will ask entirely to him, not even expressing a wish on her part. The expectancy of the relative clause, based also, as it is, on the implied promise sent by the messenger, contradicts those who think that Martha does not expect Jesus to ask anything of God in this case. While ὅσα veils what Martha expects, it includes the greatest possibilities, also, if it be Jesus’ will, the restoration of her brother to life. Martha’s only limit is what Jesus may will to ask of God.

Yet she falls short. This is evident chiefly in her use of the verb αἰτεῖσθαι: “αἰτέω, the Latin peto, is more submissive and suppliant, indeed the constant word by which is expressed the seeking of the inferior from the superior (Acts 12:20); of the beggar from him that should give alms (Acts 3:2); of the child from the parent (Matt. 7:9; Luke 11:11; Lam. 4:4); of the subject from the ruler (Ezra 8:22); of man from God (1 Kings 3:11; Matt. 7:7; James 1:5; 1 John 3:22); ἐρωτάω, on the other hand, is the Latin rogo, or sometimes interrogo.… Like the Latin rogo it implies on the part of the asker a certain equality, as of king with king (Luke 14:32), or, if not equality, familiarity with him from whom the gift or favor is sought, which lends authority to the request.… The consciousness of Christ’s equal dignity speaks out of this, that as often as he asks or declares that he will ask anything of the Father, it is always ἐρωτῶ, ἐρωτήσω, an asking, that is, as upon equal terms (John 14:16; 16:26; 17:9 and 15 and 20), never αἰτῶ or αἰτήσω. Martha, on the contrary, plainly reveals her poor, unworthy notions of his person and, in fact, declares that she sees in him no more than a prophet, ascribing the αἰτεῖσθαι to him, which he never ascribes to himself,” Trench, Synonyms, I, 195, etc. Martha, indeed, calls Jesus “the Son of God” (v. 27), but seeing his lowly human form, his praying to God, she still thinks of him as inferior to God.

Exception to the finding of Trench is taken by C.-K. 91, but his main point on αἰτέω remains, that Jesus does not use this verb with regard to himself. On ἐρωτάω the observation of C.-K. is correct: it is only the refined word for a request and may be used with regard to an inferior as well as with regard to an equal.

Some commentators resemble Martha when in this entire narrative they regard Jesus, not as what he is, the Son operating together with the Father with the fullest mutual understanding and unity of will, but is made a kind of tool or instrument that is moved only by the Father who is the real agent. So he is kept in the dark until his Father tells him; he does not know what he will do, or be able to do until the Father orders him; in fact, not by his own power but only by that of the Father does he act. Not thus did the Father send the Son on his mission, not thus did the Son execute his Father’s mission. Only prophets and apostles were in such a position.

John 11:23

23 Jesus’ dealings with Martha are not fully understood unless we note well that he is revising her estimate of his person. Over against her word, “Died would not have my brother” (note the word order of the Greek) he squarely sets the promise and assurance, “Rise again shall thy brother.” Jesus says to her: Thy brother shall rise again. Purposely Jesus does not at once declare his intention. Like a child he takes her hand to help her up gradually, one step at a time. This word of Jesus is not “ambiguous,” nor does it intend to try Martha’s faith. It is comprehensive and complete, truly glorious in every respect, and thus for the education and clarification of Martha’s faith.

John 11:24

24 Martha says to him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day. Here is another οἶδα (v. 22) like the first from Martha’s lips, precious as far as it goes but again rather inadequate. By eliciting this reply from her Jesus helps Martha to reveal what she still lacks. Jesus wants her to display her empty way of looking at the resurrection in order that he may fill this emptiness with himself, the very resurrection and the life itself, together with all the assurance, hope, and joy that this conveys.

Some, like Martha, find little comfort in this word of Jesus’. Their comment sounds like hers, as if now raising her brother from the tomb where he had lain only four days would be more, much more than the resurrection of that body at the last day unto the eternal life of glory; whereas the very reverse is true. As Hiller says, our temporal life and the joy of living it together with our loved ones is still far too precious to us compared with the eternal life which shall reach its climax for the body on the last great day in the blessed resurrection of believers. By declaring, “Thy brother shall rise again,” Jesus simply lays down the first great fundamental proposition on which he then proceeds to build the next and the next until the full measure of the truth overflows the heart with comfort and joy.

John 11:25

25 Jesus said to her, I am the resurrection and the life. What Jesus said about Lazarus’ rising again, and what Martha said about the resurrection at the last day as proclaimed in the Old Testament, all this is actually and literally embodied in Jesus. Here is another mighty “I AM,” ἐγώεἰμι. This makes every notion, such as that the Father merely grants something to Jesus at his request, disappear completely. The inadequate is set aside by the adequate. Here again the two articles with the double predicate denote that subject and predicate are identical and interchangeable (R. 768). No resurrection and no life (ζωή) exist except as they are embodied in Jesus. When he is absent, resurrection and life are absent; when he is present, resurrection and life are present.

We should not separate the resurrection and the life, should not ask which is first, which second, which depends upon the other, or produces the other. These are not two, they are essentially one, even as Jesus is one. This one concept is expressed by two words, because we lack a term great enough to serve in place of the two. We must say “life” as the opposite of death, and “resurrection” as the annulment of death. Neither is without the other.

This appears when Jesus now speaks about the possession of himself, the resurrection and the life. Martha had only a small part of the truth when she spoke of the resurrection as an occurrence only at the last day. Jesus gave her the whole truth, not only by combining the resurrection with the life, but by identifying these with himself. Now we see how this glorious treasure may be possessed as an inexhaustible fountain of joy. He that believes in me, even if he dies, shall live; and everyone that lives and believes in me, in no way shall he die forever. Here is not only the way of possession but the very possession itself with all it contains.

The two parallel statements are not a progress in thought, so that the second flows out of the first; nor is the alternative a mere repetition, a saying the same thing twice with a few different words. The two statements radiate from the one center I AM, just as do the two terms “the resurrection” and “the life.” We have two applications, a looking at the person concerned in two ways.

First is the person who dies (κἂνἀποθάνῃ, expectancy), as Lazarus has died, as every believer will lie down to sleep in death. To him Jesus is “the resurrection,” the victory and triumph over death. He shall sleep indeed, yet “he shall live,” temporal death harms him not at all. Just as we do not lose a brother or another relative, and he does not lose us when he retires for sleep at night, so we do not lose him when he retires for sleep in the shadow of death. “He shall live” does not mean merely: “shall come to life in the far distant last day,” but from the very moment of death on. Only a restful shadow covers him, no real death; for Jesus has taken that away. This is what the believer’s death means.

John 11:26

26 Each of the two parallel statements illumines the other. Next the person before he dies: “everyone that lives,” that has the true “life” in himself, the ζωή or life principle, which is identified with Jesus, just as is “the resurrection.” Having this “life” in himself while he continues here on earth, no death in the real sense can touch him, “in no way shall he die forever”—οὑμή the strongest negation with the subjunctive, as here, or with a future indicative. Compare 3:15, 16; 6:47; 9:51; and on the negation of εἰςτὸναἰῶνα, 4:14; 8:35 and 51; 10:28. What a joy in the prospect that we “shall in no way die”!

Both parallels, however, mark the idea of possession in the same way: “he that believes in me and yet dies”—“he that lives and believes in me”—note the chiastic arrangement. The possession is obtained by connection with Jesus. This connection is spiritual, by the confidence and trust in the soul which clings to Jesus who is all that he says. The present participles are durative qualifications, and the two in the second clause are construed with one article. Instead of using two participles in the first clause: “he that believes and dies,” Jesus marks what to us seems a kind of wrong: “he that believes—even if he dies.” “Even if” he must pass through temporal death, let this not disturb us. Believing does not relieve us of temporal death even though we may think it should.

By using two participles in the second clause: “he that lives and believes,” living and believing are so joined that neither is without the other: to live is to believe; to believe is to live. The addition of πᾶς, “everyone,” in the second statement is far from marking a contrast with the first, it leaps back and includes also the first—this is due to the fact that πιστεύων occurs in both. It is like saying, “he that believes … yes, everyone that believes!” It is impossible that any believer should ever, εἰςτὸναἰῶνα (see 8:35), until the end of the Messianic eon, lose what Jesus here guarantees. Only by turning from faith are these promises lost.

Therefore the vital question, now put directly to Martha: Believest thou this? To believe “this” is to believe what he says of himself and thus to believe “in him.” It is one thing to hear it, to reason and to argue about it; and quite another thing to believe, embrace, trust it. To believe is to receive, hold, enjoy the reality and the power of it, with all that lies in it of joy, comfort, peace, and hope. The measure of our believing, while it is not the measure of our possessing, since the smallest faith has Jesus, the resurrection and the life, completely, is yet the measure of our enjoyment of it all.

John 11:27

27 It is now that Martha rises to her greatest height by uttering her great confession of faith in response to Jesus’ question. She said to him, Yea, Lord, I have believed that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, he that comes into the world. With “yea, Lord” she accepts and confesses all that Jesus has said of himself. The response is direct and without qualification. In what sense Martha addresses Jesus as “Lord” is shown by the titles she at once adds. In “I have believed” note the emphatic pronoun ἐγώ.

Others have not believed, others have charged Jesus with blasphemy (10:33) for calling himself “the Son of God”—Martha “has believed,” has done so this long while and is believing now. In stating the sum and substance of her faith she shows that she has apprehended the chief and true point in the self-attestation of Jesus, which is his own person. Hence all the predicates for “thou art” are who Jesus is and not merely what Jesus is. The what depends entirely on the who, and it is the who that is merely made manifest by the what. This fundamental who Martha puts into terms on which the greatest confessors of today could not improve. “The Christ” or Messiah, on the lips of this Jewess, embraces all that the Old Testament contains in its promises to Israel. When she adds the apposition “the Son of God,” we dare not forget the preceding scenes in Jerusalem, as they reached a climax during the last festival (10:22–39) on the very issue whether Jesus is “the Christ” (10:24), “the Son of God” (10:33 and 36).

With the emphatic ἐγώ Martha puts her faith squarely in contrast with the unbelief of the Jerusalem Jews, some of whom, it seems, were in her house at this very moment (v. 46).

It is surely unjust to the memory of this noble woman to reduce the truth of her confession by having her say that she does not really understand Jesus in regard to what he says about himself as the resurrection and the life, etc., that all she is ready to admit is that Jesus is the Messiah. It is unfair to inquire abstractly what “the Son of God” could mean to her mind and then to make it mean as little as possible by eliminating the deity of Jesus. We feel bound to say that Martha understood “the Christ, the Son of God,” in the same sense in which the unbelief of the Jerusalem Jews found blasphemy in it, in the same sense in which Jesus through the messenger coordinated the glory of God and the glorification of the Son of God (v. 4). After all these years we ourselves do not fully fathom all that lies in these terms. She actually heaps up the vital terms for adequately designating the person of Jesus, adding as a third the apposition: “he that comes into the world.” On ὁἐρχόμενος compare 1:9; 4:25; 5:43; 6:14, and other passages. It is always the same verb, and when used by the Jews is always in the present tense.

The Messiah is ὁἐρχόμενος, “the One Coming.” The present tense of the substantivized participle may be considered futuristic, R. 891: “the One who will come,” but only as this designation was originally meant. It thus became fixed, and Martha does not change it although Jesus has now come and stands before her at the moment. Compare Matt. 11:3; Luke 7:19, 20. Those who would reduce this participial designation to a relative clause forget that the term has become a fixed title. The phrase “into the world” Martha has learned to add from its repeated use by Jesus himself, for he always says that his Father sent him “into the world,” i.e., from heaven to earth. Martha’s confession is in the same class with Nathanael’s, 1:49; and those of Peter, 6:69; Matt. 16:16.

John 11:28

28 And having said this, she left and called her sister Mary secretly saying, The Teacher is here and calls thee. “And calls thee” shows that Martha was Jesus’ messenger to Mary. We see by what title the friends of Jesus spoke of him: “the Teacher,” ὁδιδάσκαλος. Jesus remained at the outskirts of the village, waiting for Mary. The adverb “secretly” is to be construed with the main verb “called,” not with the merely incidental participle. The first εἰποῦσα is antecedent, the second coincident; the nature of the actions decides. A variant for the second is εἴπασα (from εἶπα). It seems to be Martha who decides on the secrecy, not Jesus. As she herself had been called secretly by the messenger, so she now does when she is the messenger.

John 11:29

29 But she, when she heard it, rose quickly and was going to him. The imperfect ἤρχετο indicates that more will be said about her going.

John 11:30

30 A parenthesis (hence δέ) explains the situation. Now Jesus had not yet come into the village but was still in the place where Martha had met him. As he had prepared Martha for the miracle, so he desired to prepare her sister also.

John 11:31

31 The Jews, therefore, who were with her in the house and were condoling with her, having seen Mary, that she got up quickly and went out, followed her, thinking that she was going to the tomb to sob there. If Mary had risen without haste, as Martha did when she was called, the condoling Jews would have remained seated. The little circumstance that Mary goes out so quickly puts the thought into their minds that she is going to the tomb, there to mourn, and they feel that they must not allow her to go alone, that now especially she needs their support. Note the two adverbs for “quickly” in v. 29 and here in v. 31.

It is evident that Jesus desired to meet both of the sisters quietly at the outskirts of the village, also that in Mary’s case a slight thing on her part frustrated this intention. Here let us note that only in those exceptional cases where we are told that Jesus used his supernatural knowledge does he control persons and events. At other times he meets events as they come to him, also those which thwart his intentions, as for instance in Mark 7:24. If we look from Jesus to God and the workings of his divine providence as regards the actions of men in relation to Jesus, we see both control of actions and events and absence of control. In some few instances the why and the wherefore are revealed to us, but in by far the greater number all remains a mystery to us. Only one thing is certain: when God and when Jesus take control, as well as when they do not, both operate in perfect accord, never at cross-purposes. Beyond this our minds cannot go.

John 11:32

32 Mary, therefore, when she came where Jesus was, at sight of him fell at his feet, saying to him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother would not have died. Mary is far more emotional than her sister. John brings out their different characters with wonderful distinctness. The little touch “at sight of him,” ἰδοῦσααὑτόν (“when she saw him”), tells us that this made her sink to the ground and then break out in sobs. Here was the great Helper for whom their heart had longed—oh, how they had longed!—and he had come far too late! The very same words that Martha had uttered rise to her lips; but Mary, bent prostrate, bursts into tears, whereas Martha struggles to express her faith and her hope amid the flood of her grief and regret.

The sense of Mary’s word and the motive for its utterance are the same as those of Martha in v. 21. The position of μου, in Mary’s word before, in Martha’s after the noun, is without significance and is apparently due to the writer’s choice, R. 420, etc.; 681. Those who in this point see in Mary a deeper feeling for her brother are—straining a point.

John 11:33

33 When Jesus, therefore, saw her sobbing and the Jews sobbing who had come with her he was indignant in the spirit and shook himself and said, Where have you laid him? The verb κλαίειν denotes loud, audible weeping, hence “to sob.” The verb ἐμβριμάομαι usually has a dative object and then means to turn upon someone with angry words. Here no such object is named, for τῷπνεύματι is the dative of relation and refers to Jesus’ own spirit. “He was indignant in the spirit,” er ergrimmete im Geist (Luther), means that Jesus restrained his indignation. The only outward sign of deep emotion was the fact that “he shook himself,” the verb ταράσσω used in its physical and not in a metaphorical sense (“he troubled himself”), since the emotion of indignation is already indicated. Note the recurrence of this emotion in v. 38, where ἐνἑαυτῷ is practically the same as the preceding τῷπνεύματι. What John describes is a deep emotion of indignation, which produces instead of indignant words only a quivering of the body.

This quivering, however, is active: “he shook himself,” not passive, as though the strong emotion shook him. This must mean that the bodily quivering is the visible evidence of the inward effort by which Jesus restrained the indignant feeling.

The only cause for this highly unusual effect in Jesus is the sobbing of Mary and her friends; John indicates no other cause. It is impossible to separate the sobbing of the Jewish friends from that of Mary and to assume that their sobbing is hypocritical and thus makes Jesus indignant; yet instead of rebuking it with sharp words, as it would deserve, he compels himself to answer it only by his great deed. John coordinates the sobbing of the Jews with that of Mary; besides, her grief is so deep and apparent that it certainly is perfectly natural for her friends to weep with her. The open grief of Mary and her friends is not the evidence of their unbelief in Jesus, for Mary’s word spoken to Jesus is exactly like that of Martha, and both express faith, certainly not unbelief. Moreover, Mary’s tears, not any unbelief in their hearts, cause also her friends to break out in tears. Equally untenable is the idea that the indignation of Jesus is directed against the contagion of sobbing as this affects himself, that his business is not to sob with the rest but to act.

Also untenable is the psychological explanation, that the will power which Jesus had mustered for effecting the raising of Lazarus was not again to be dissipated by his giving way to the enervating feeling of grief. We know of no mustering of will power for this or for any other miracle of Jesus, especially of a will power that would be weakened by way of sympathetic grief.

Yet why should this sobbing move Jesus to an indignation, the expression of which he represses? It cannot be the mere sobbing itself, it must be this effect together with its cause: the sin and the death which bring such pain even to the hearts that Jesus, loves. Invariably Jesus looks beneath the surface even to the very bottom.

That is why John at once adds that Jesus demands to know where Lazarus has been laid. We must not break the link of this second καί in our picture of the scene: “and he shook himself and he said, Where have you laid him?” His action shall speak more effectively than any words can speak. His indignation against the death which plunges his loved ones into such a flood of sorrow will turn against this death itself by forcing it to give up its prey. It is best to stop at this point. The words of John do not warrant the addition that Jesus is indignant also because this greatest of his miracles will be used by his enemies to bring death upon himself.

John 11:34

34 They say to him, Lord, come and see. Several speak at once and like Martha and Mary address him with the title “Lord.” They were evidently his friends (v. 45). So the entire company starts toward the tomb. The fine distinction between the present and the aorist imperative must be noted: “be coming (durative) and see (punctiliar).”

John 11:35

35 With gripping brevity and without a connective John writes: Jesus wept. Now the verb used is not κλαίειν but δακρύειν—silent tears trickle from his eyes as he walks toward the tomb with the company. It is true, indeed, that this shortest verse in the Bible answers the criticism that has been directed against the genuineness of John’s Gospel as painting an unhistorical picture of Jesus, a being with nothing human about him except his outward appearance, being all Logos, all deity. The simple fact is that Jesus is both God and man and so truly man that he here weeps with those that weep. Throughout John’s Gospel the human and the divine are combined, and both are equally true. No criticism can ever separate the two. No historical Jesus exists except the Jesus of the four Gospels.

The fact that Jesus wept thus should show clearly that in v. 33 he was not fighting to keep from sobbing with the rest. Jesus ever has perfect control of himself. He now wept because his heart was filled with deepest sympathy, Rom. 12:15. He wept again in keen sorrow over Jerusalem, and then once again in the darkness of Gethsemane (Heb. 5:7)

John 11:36

36 These are noble, manly tears. The Jews, therefore, said, Behold, how he loved him! They were certainly right. Naturally they speak of φιλεῖν, the love of friendship and affection, and the imperfect expresses the duration of this affection in the past and up to the present.

John 11:37

37 But some of them said, Could not he, the one who opened the eyes of the blind man, have caused this man also not to die? Sometimes these people are assumed to be hostile to Jesus and are identified with those mentioned in v. 46, who also are regarded as being hostile. But throughout the account concerning the blind beggar (9:15–34) we find that the Pharisees refused to admit the fact of the miracle, while the present questioners do the very opposite. Instead of hostility their question expresses perplexity, in fact, the very perplexity with which Martha and Mary wrestled. They, too, had used φιλεῖν in their message to Jesus. How could Jesus have such affection for Lazarus and yet somehow fail to be at hand and heal him before he died?

As in the case of the sisters and their word of deep regret to Jesus (v. 21 and 32), a degree of faith in Jesus is manifested in this question of the Jews. They here speak of the case of the blind beggar because this was the last notable miracle performed in Jerusalem. The raising of Jairus’ daughter and of the widow’s son occurred in Galilee and may not even have been known to the people in Jerusalem. At least their thought, like that of the sisters, is only regarding the prevention of death not regarding a miracle performed upon one already dead.

John 11:38

38 Jesus, therefore, again filled with indignation in himself, conies to the tomb. The οὗν connects only the main verb with what precedes: “Jesus, therefore, comes to the tomb,” and not the participle: “therefore filled again with indignation.” This οὗν links into the inquiry which Jesus made about the location of the tomb and the answer he received when the people told him to come along with them and to see. This Jesus did, and “accordingly” (οὗν) he now arrives at the tomb. This is the grammar of the statement. Coincident with ἔρχεται is what the present participle reports: πάλινἐμβριμώμενοςἐνἑαυτῷ; in other words, as Jesus arrives and sees the tomb, the feeling of indignation again rises in him. It is only a variation of expression when John writes “in himself” instead of repeating the dative “in the spirit” (v. 33).

This time John does not add the detail that this indignation showed itself visibly. This is taken for granted, having been stated before; moreover, no one could have known of this return of the feeling in Jesus if it caused no visible effect in Jesus.

All this means that John in no way connects the renewed indignation with the words of perplexity uttered by some of the. Jews. All that is recorded in v. 35–37 occurs on the way to the tomb, before it is reached. The indignation wells up in Jesus’ heart only as he arrives at the tomb. These facts remain even when we now consider the words of “some of them” to be Spottreden, “words of mockery,” which, as we have seen, they are not. As the first feeling of indignation is not caused by words of mockery, so also this second feeling.

The adverb “again” makes both alike due to the same cause. Here is the tomb, the very evidence of the death that has brought all this anguish upon the hearts that Jesus loves dearly. The sight of this stronghold of death causes the former feeling of indignation “again” to rise. And this time Jesus does not put his feeling into words but promptly proceeds to action. One additional point must be mentioned. We now hear of no sobbing as the tomb is reached.

Hence the indignation is now not a fight on the part of Jesus against being carried away into a paroxism of sobbing with the rest. No one attempts to explain it in this way. This proves that when the indignation first moved Jesus it was not a fight against the contagion of unrestrained grief, not a battle against a supposed dissipation of his power of will.

John inserts an explanatory remark (hence δέ) about the nature of the tomb. Now it was a cavern, and a stone was lying against (or upon) it. It was a chamber hewn into a rise of rock. In some of these tombs, very common in that rocky country, the floor is level with the outside, in others it is lower, a step or two leading down to it. The size of the hewnout chamber would be in accord with the owner’s wealth. A heavy slab of stone closed the opening, which might be quite perpendicular or slanting back; ἐπί with the dative fits either mode of closing the opening.

On August 1, 1925, when the author visited Bethany, he was conducted down twenty-two big, clumsy steps, down deep into a rough, rocky cellar, now shown as “the tomb of Lazarus.” Near by an open space with a few old stones from ruins, placed there to mark the site where walls are supposed to have been, was pointed out as the home of the sisters, and a few rough, pillar-like pieces of stone were called the house of Simon the leper. The place itself is composed of shabby stone hovels. Only the village site is genuine, all the rest is puerile invention.

John 11:39

39 Arrived at the tomb, Jesus says, Take the stone away! The command with its aorist imperative is short and incisive. Some of the disciples and the Jewish men are to lift the stone and to open the death chamber. The masterful command moves to action.

Martha, the sister of him that was dead, says to him, Lord, by this time he stinks, for he is dead four days, τεταρταῖος, an adjective, “one at the fourth day,” whereas in English we should use an expression with an adverb or a phrase, R. 657. It is characteristic of Martha and not of Mary to exclaim thus. The addition to her name: “the sister of him who has died (and thus is now dead—the perfect participle),” when we already know of her relationship, is to give point to her exclamation—a sister would dread to look upon the already decomposing body of her brother. Lazarus, no doubt, was buried as well-to-do Jews were buried, his anointed body being swathed in linen strips with powdered spices sprinkled in the folds. There was nothing to check the natural process of decay. The Egyptians disemboweled the body and removed the brain and then soaked the body in a chemical solution for seventy days and thus prevented decay.

Martha’s exclamation is fully justified and reveals the greatness of the miracle about to be wrought. Yet not on this account has John recorded her words but for the sake of Jesus’ reply. We need not ask how Martha’s word accords with her faith as previously expressed. The astounding order of Jesus involuntarily brought the exclamation to her lips. Our natural thinking is never swift enough to rise to the height of our faith; and this appears most frequently when faith is to be rewarded by actual sight.

John 11:40

40 Jesus says to her, Did I not say to thee, that, if thou shalt believe, thou shalt see the glory of God? Jesus is not quoting from either the original message to the sisters or from the conversation recorded in v. 21–27; he is only reminding Martha of the two chief points in both the message and the conversation, that of faith (v. 26: “whoever believes,” and: “believest thou this?”), and that of God’s glory (v. 4: “for the glory of God,” etc.). Jesus speaks only to Martha because she is the only one who uttered the startled exclamation; yet all present may well heed what Jesus says. The emphasis is on faith: “if thou shalt believe,” the aorist subjunctive to express the act of believing now (the present would speak of believing in general). The condition of expectancy (ἐάν with the subjunctive) counts on Martha’s act of believing at this juncture. “Thou shalt see” is a positive promise. In a moment believing Martha did see. “The glory of God” has been explained in v. 4. Jesus thus encourages the faith that is already in Martha’s heart; at the same time we must remember the purpose clause in Jesus’ prayer, v. 42: “in order that they may believe,” for when the glory now shines forth, this glory will impel those not yet believing unto faith, and so these, too, will see that glory (v. 45).

John 11:41

41 They, accordingly, took the stone away. All eyes are strained on Jesus to see what he would now do. And Jesus lifted his eyes upward and said, Father, I thank thee that thou didst hear me. Yet on my part I know that always thou nearest me; nevertheless, for the sake of the multitude standing around I spoke, in order that they may believe that thou didst send me. The lifting of the eyes is a natural gesture in prayer, since for us God is always above. It is the Son who here says, “Father,” but the Son whom the Father “did send” on his great redemptive mission.

This means that the entire prayer here uttered moves on a plane that is correspondingly high. It is God’s own Son who here thanks his Father, and it is this Father who in this present case, just as in all other cases, hears this his own Son. Both the hearing and the thanks in this case and in all others deal with what pertains to the mission on which the Father sent his Son, and which the Son accepted from the Father and is now engaged in carrying out. Holding to these vital facts in relation to the Father and his Son, we shall see to what Jesus refers when he says, “thou didst hear me,” and, “always thou hearest me.” The prayers of the Son to the Father and the answers of the Father to the Son deal with one thing only, that which Jesus makes so prominent in his message to the sisters: “the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified thereby,” v. 4. Compare 12:28; 13:31, 32; 14:13; 17:1 and 4. We may add that in whatever will redound to the glory of both, both the Son and the Father are always at one—a shadow of divergence between the two can never occur.

This is due to the fact that the Father’s conception of the mission on which he sent the Son is identical with the conception of that mission on the part of the Son who accepted that mission and is now carrying it out.

Accordingly, we dismiss as inadequate those interpretations which have Jesus ask the Father for power and authority to raise Lazarus from the dead. This reduces Jesus to the level of the prophets and the apostles who as mere men wrought miracles only in this way. Compare on this point the explanation in 4:50. We likewise dismiss the additions which are appended to this conception about “the assurance” or “the certainty” Jesus felt “in his consciousness” that “at the decisive moment the Father would not leave him without the joy and the victorious power for the execution of the deed.” A further embellishment of this view is the “mighty agitation” or “excitement” of Jesus, which caused him to shout with a loud voice when the miraculous word was uttered. Jesus neither is nor acts as a mere tool of the Father. Jesus’ mission is so great that it could not be executed by one who would be only an instrument in the Father’s hands, to be guided by him at every step, and to be powerless except for the special power granted for every work.

This mission the Son alone could execute, for it required one who in power as well as in mind and in will is wholly one with the Father. This is the sense of 5:19 and 30: Jesus can do and say nothing “of himself,” as emanating from himself alone and deviating from his Father; in all he does and says he is one with the Father, because he is the Father’s Son. Ever the Father “shows,” ever the Son “sees”; ever the Son looks up to the Father, ever the Father “hears.” Such absolute unity is possible only between these two.

John 11:42

42 All this is revealed on this occasion for the sake of those who are present to witness the miracle. That is why Jesus “spoke” (εἶπον) the audible word of thanks in v. 41. The purpose of the Father and the Son is “that they may believe (πιστεύσωσιν, aorist: come to believe) that thou didst send me”—me as thy Son on this saving mission. For Jesus thus to thank God aloud and to add aloud the motive that prompts him to utter his thanks, has been called a sham prayer and a mere display since God knew all this without Jesus’ saying so audibly. As far as God is concerned, this objection would abolish all prayer, for God knows the heart even before it attempts to formulate its thoughts, whether it utters them or not. He who would say to God only what God does not yet know would never have anything to say.

The very essence of prayer is to say to God what is in our hearts. As far as those are concerned who hear us pray, the very object is that they may hear and may be impressed and affected by what they hear. Genuine prayers, uttered aloud, always have a corresponding effect. These prayers would draw also the hearts of others up to God, that they may recognize him and may also glorify him in their own hearts.

John 11:43

43 Thus Jesus prepared all those assembled at the tomb for the great deed they were now to witness. He had connected it with the Father and with the sending he had received from the Father. When the deed is now wrought, it will, indeed, proclaim in mighty fashion that the Father has sent him. In the face of this deed only the most obdurate unbelief will be able to deny that the Father did, indeed, send Jesus. And having said these things, in proper preparation, he shouted with a great voice, Lazarus, come forth! literally, “hither, out!” The loudness of the command is certainly not due to any excitement on the part of Jesus, caused by the strain of this supreme moment which will now show whether the Father sent him or not. It is Jesus who raises Lazarus from the dead not the Father in answer to the prayers of Jesus.

A quiet order from Jesus would also have brought the dead man forth. The accepted explanation for this loudness is that it comports with the mighty power put forth, penetrating the wall that divides the dead from the living. Yet when Jesus put forth this same power in calling back to life Jairus’ daughter and the widow’s son, he used no loud shout. The “great voice” in the present case is not for the sake of the dead man or for the sake of death, but for the sake of its effect upon the assembled people.

In Mark 5:42; Luke 8:54; 7:14 Jesus says, “Arise!” ἔγειρε, ἐγέρθητι; here he says, “Come forth!” δεῦροἔξω. The difference is due to the situations. The daughter lay upon a bed, the widow’s son upon a bier; when called back to life, they would rise from their prone posture. Lazarus is in his tomb; he will not merely rise up from his prone posture but also move out of the tomb. The assumption that, when Jesus called to Lazarus to come forth, Lazarus was already alive and needed only to be asked to step out, is unwarranted, whether it involves the idea that the Father had already made him alive again, or that the mere will of Jesus had already done so. It is the voice and the word of Jesus that bring Lazarus back to life, just as “all that are in their tombs shall hear his voice, and shall come forth,” 5:28, 29.

This voice of Jesus with its almighty power raises the dead. As the dead child and the widow’s dead son responded to that voice, so also Lazarus. It is Jesus in his own person who thus works these miracles even as we read in Mark 5:41 and Luke 7:14, “I say to thee, Arise!”

John 11:44

44 The effect of Jesus’ word was instantaneous. The dead man came forth, bound hand and foot with gravebands; and his face was bound with a sweatcloth. First, the great fact as such in the fewest possible words; then, the description of the figure that appeared in the door of the tomb. John does not even use an exclamation. With a subject so tremendous to present he drops all attempts to make us feel its tremendousness. This is all: “The dead man came forth.” The perfect participle ὁτεθνηκώς, while it is intensive (R. 910), has lost its perfect force (R. 1117) and simply means “the dead man.” If we pause to think, the statement becomes a paradox, a contradiction—how can a dead man come forth out of his tomb?

Not only alive now but wholly sound and full of vigor, hampered by the linen swathings though he was, Lazarus came forth. Without a struggle death gives up its prey. All death’s ravages are undone. Here is the glory of the Father and the glorification of the Son whom he did send. Even the physical eyes of the bystanders can “see” it. Not a word, however, does John record about the excitement that surely must have overwhelmed the witnesses who beheld the man, dead and in his tomb for four days, now alive at Jesus’ word.

Now the brief description, “bound hand and foot,” the passive perfect participle: bound thus when entombed and now in that condition. The Greek has plural accusatives, loosely attached to the passive participle: “the feet and the hands,” our idiom has “hand and foot.” The κειρίαι are linen strips (note the singular σινδών in Matt. 27:59) wound around and thus binding the body. Around the head and covering the face a sudarium, literally “sweatcloth,” was bound, no other wrappings being used. From the early days onward it was considered part of the miracle that the body thus wrapped and swathed and rendered helpless came forth from the tomb. It was supposed that the power of Jesus raised the body to its feet and made it float forward. A recent writer thinks of “the miraculous floating upward of a mummy,” confusing Egyptian with Jewish swathings.

Another thinks that the rock tomb was cut down perpendicularly like our graves, and that Lazarus merely rose to his feet, standing upright in the grave. “Hither, out!” would hardly fit this supposition but rather the command, “Arise!” and Lazarus would have to be lifted out. Since we do not know just how the body and the limbs were wrapped, it is best to assume that Lazarus was able to rise upright without aid and to move sufficiently to get to the door of the tomb. Quite likely Meyer is right: “The wrappings, which also held no spices, encircling the entire body, over the sindon (linen sheet) folded around the corpse, could have been loose enough, so that, stretched by the movement of the living man, they made his coming forth possible.” The entire description, notably also the mention of the cloth around the head and covering the face, reveals the writer as an eyewitness of the scene. But no sheet enveloped the swathed body.

Jesus says to them, Loose him and let him go. Struck with amazement at first, no one moved, so that Jesus called on them to unfasten the binding, enabling Lazarus to walk home. “Loose him” is only preliminary to the chief command, “let him go away.” Lazarus is not to stand as a spectacle for the wonder of the crowd; nor has Jesus anything more to say or to do. All is done, and even Jesus does not detain Lazarus or speak a single word of greeting to the friend whom he loved. “Let him go away” dismisses also the crowd and at the same time bids Lazarus to go to his home. The glory of God and of the Son whom he had sent had appeared to the hearts of them all—on that glory let their thoughts dwell. Jesus and his disciples also leave the place at once; note “departed thence” in v. 54.

The Effect of the Miracle wrought upon Lazarus, 11:45–57

John 11:45

45 First the effect upon the Jewish witnesses. Many, therefore, of the Jews, they who came to Mary and beheld what he did, believed on him. We must not that πολλοὶἐκτῶνἸουδαίων is identical with v. 19 and includes all who came to condole with the sisters. All these are incorporated in the apposition: “they who came,” etc. John thus says that all of them “believed on him.” So great was the effect of what these Jews beheld that for once no unbelievers were left. John does not write: “many of the Jews, of those who came” (genitive); but the nominative: “they who came,” οἱἐλθόκτλ.

The aorist “believed” is simply historical and states only the fact. The fact that they “came to Mary” is often explained by assuming that she was more in need of comfort, and that thus Martha is left out; or by assuming that Mary was better known among the Jews than her sister. The best explanation is that she is made prominent here just as in v. 1, 2.

John 11:46

46 The effect of the miracle, however, extended far beyond the immediate witnesses. The authorities in Jerusalem were moved to action. How this came about John explains. But some of them went away to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. This is often explained as though the witnesses divided themselves into two groups, a majority who believed and a minority who did not believe. Yet “some of them” means a few of those mentioned in v. 45, i.e., of those who believed.

In other words, from some of the direct witnesses, who believed in Jesus, the Pharisees learned what Jesus had done in Bethany. Not at second or at thirdhand but at firsthand the enemies of Jesus obtained their information. This does not mean that “some of them” went and denounced Jesus—what could they denounce? In all good faith and with all sincerity these witnesses told the Pharisees what they had seen Jesus do. Why they “went away to the Pharisees and told them” is not stated, yet we may well suppose that they went in order to convince these opponents of Jesus that they were surely wrong in their opinion about him. This would also agree with what follows when the Pharisees are worked up to say, “If we let him thus alone, all men will believe on him,” v. 48.

The very fact that all the Jews who witnessed the miracle in Bethany came away as believers made the Pharisees now determine on decisive action. The success of Jesus simply had to be stopped.

John 11:47

47 Action at once results. The chief priests, therefore, and the Pharisees called a session and were saying, What are we doing? seeing that this fellow is doing many signs. The Pharisees together with the chief priests, to whom they had carried the latest news about Jesus, call a regular session of the Sanhedrin. The translation “gathered a council” does not mean that a private consultation was held; for “the chief priests and the Pharisees” is the title of the Sanhedrin as such, and συνήγαγονσυνέδριον means that the Sanhedrin “brought together a session,” a regular meeting (συνέδριον, a common noun.)

The imperfect ἔλεγον takes us into the session and lets us hear what goes on. Here “they were saying”—most likely the Pharisees (v. 40)—, “What are we doing?” τίποιοῦμεν; This is not the subjunctive ποιῶμεν, which would indicate deliberation or doubt as to what to do; nor the future ποιήσομεν, which would only ask for information regarding what to do; but the present indicative, which asks what really is being done and thus implies that actually nothing at all is being done about Jesus. R. 880, 923, etc. And this, indeed, is the fact; the Sanhedrin had talked and resolved but was actually doing nothing of consequence toward checking Jesus.

Here ὅτι is consecutive, “seeing that,” etc., not causal, “for” or “because.” Compare 2:18; 7:35; and 8:43, where the references are given. Always these Jews show a distaste for the name “Jesus,” substituting the derogatory οὗτος, “this fellow.” It is somewhat startling to read the frank admission that Jesus “is doing many signs,” acknowledging the number and the quality (“signs”). What follows shows how “signs” is here understood, namely as revealing something about Jesus which the Sanhedrin absolutely refuses to accept, which many of the people, however, are accepting in their ignorance. No effort is made to deny the reality of the miracles, now that these men are by themselves; before the people they were less free with their admission. Then, too, the Sanhedrists were at a disadvantage: it was a little awkward to deny the resurrection of a Lazarus, for instance, when the man was right there to testify concerning his own death and his return to life, to say nothing of a great number of actual witnesses. Faith is not a matter of so much proof or evidence for the intellect; it is a matter of the will.

These leaders openly admit the most glorious Messianic deeds and yet do not dream of believing. Quite effectively they place what Jesus “is doing” over against the questtion what they “are doing”—he so much, they—nothing.

John 11:48

48 If we shall let him alone thus, all will believe on him; and the Romans will come and remove both our position and our nation. The condition of expectancy pictures this eventuality in a vivid manner. The adverb “thus” connects with the preceding question and its implication that the Sanhedrin is doing nothing while Jesus is doing a great deal, and thus justifies ἐάν with the subjunctive. “All will believe on him” is really not intended as an exaggeration, nor is it due to the temper of the speakers. The Sanhedrists actually assume that they alone are able to counteract the influence Jesus is exerting, and that, if they do no more than they are now doing, in a short time all—save, of course, they themselves, will be carried away by Jesus.

A gap in the thought must be filled in before the conclusion of the Sanhedrists relative to the Romans can be understood. With the populace generally believing in Jesus, i.e., adhering to him as the Jewish Messiah, the result, to the unbelieving Jewish mind, could be only this: some fine day Jesus would set himself up as a worldly king and fulfill the popular expectation in this regard. Of course, Jesus had hitherto firmly refused to do this thing. But these Sanhedrists, themselves altogether insincere and false at heart, adjudge Jesus to be no better than they are; in fact, they are unable to imagine a Messiah in any other form—he simply had to come in earthly royal guise. The outcome of such an action on the part of Jesus the Sanhedrists can easily see: “the Romans will come” and will crush this revolt against their authority with military force and in so doing will deprive the Jews of the last trace of autonomy by abolishing Jerusalem as the capital, dissolving the Sanhedrin, and forever abolishing its power.

In ἡμῶνκαὶτὸντόπονκαὶτὸἔθνος note the emphatic position of the pronoun: remove “both the position and the nation that are ours.” They speak as though both are a perquisite of theirs. As regards the meaning of τὸντόπον the choice is usually between the country, the city, and the Temple; but when explanations are added they always refer to the position of domination held by the Sanhedrin, whether in the Temple as it? headquarters, or in the city as the capital, or in the country as its domain. What these Sanhedrists are concerned about is their “position” as the ruling body. They use ἔθνος, the proper word for “nation,” not λαός, the word for “mass of people,” which is also often used to designate God’s people in a sacred sense. There is not fear that the Jewish nation would lose its Sanhedrin, but that the Sanhedrin would lose the nation it dominates. This calamity must be prevented at all hazards.

Observe the selfishness that is here thinly veiled behind a show of patriotism. Prompted by this motive, these leaders virtually abandon their own idea of a Jewish King-Messiah as far as any transfer of their power to such a Messiah is concerned. If this appears incredible, we need but recall how these Sanhedrists brazenly turned traitor to the Jewish ideal of the Messiah as a grand earthly king when they shouted before Pilate, “We have no king but Caesar.” Coldly self-seeking, power and place is their one desire. Yet the plan they adopted for maintaining themselves brought on the very calamity they meant to avoid: rejecting their true Messiah, their Temple and their capital were demolished by Roman fire and sword, their nation was scattered to the ends of the earth, never again to possess their land or to be a nation like other nations.

John 11:49

49 But a certain one of them, Caiaphas, being high priest of that year, said to them, You do not know a thing; nor do you take account that it is expedient for you that one man die instead of the people, and that the whole nation perish not. The sinister condition in v. 48, “if we shall let him alone,” is now made specific: Jesus must die. “A certain one of them” comes out boldly with the plan thus to end this business of letting Jesus alone. “One of them” does not place Caiaphas on the same level with the rest but places him over against all the rest, who knew only how to lament but not how to act. Caiaphas secures this credit for himself. His regular name was Joseph, as Josephus informs us. He was no less a personage than the “high priest,” holding this office far longer than his predecessor, from about the years 18 to 36. We must not translate “that year” but “of that year”; the thought is not that he held office for only one year, or alternated annually with another, but that his time of office covered that notable year in which Jesus was put to death; compare also v. 51 and 18:13.

As the boldest in the assembly he blurts out, “You do not know a thing!” Discourteous, rough, and insulting in what should be a dignified assembly, Caiaphas shows that he feels his power. Josephus adds a bit of light on this Sadducee’s manners when he reports of the Pharisees that they “were friendly to one another and are for the exercise of concord, and regard for the public; but the behavior of the Sadducees one toward another is in some degree wild, and their conversation with those that are of their own party is as barbarous as if they were strangers to them.” Wars, 2, 8, 14.

John 11:50

50 In what respect the rest show their denseness Caiaphas specifies, “nor do you take account,” etc. The problem is exceedingly simple for him: Jesus must die. Yet even this overbearing Sadducee uses an abstract form of statement in proposing the death of Jesus to the Sanhedrin in order at least in some degree to hide the criminality of the proposal. Here is a thing, he says, that all the rest have failed to take into account in their thinking in regard to Jesus. He implies that the thing they have overlooked is under certain circumstances perfectly in order and acknowledged as right and proper—hence the abstract statement that follows with a ὅτι clause as the object of λογίζεσθε, and a subfinal ἵνα clause (“in much the same sense,” R. 1034) after the impersonal συμφέρει. This ἵνα does not express a purpose but states what “is expedient for you”; the classical Greek would use an infinitive. “It is expedient for you” means: advantageous to you as the Sanhedrin, the ruling body charged with the care of the nation, who must in the interest of the nation choose and use the best means available in meeting the responsibilities of your office. Cunningly Caiaphas identifies the personal interests of the Sanhedrists with the national interest—what is advantageous to them in preserving their position and their power is the very thing that will conserve the nation placed in their charge.

What is this thing that is so advantageous under the present circumstances? “That one man die instead of the people, and that the whole nation perish not.” It is an old trick to present two extreme alternatives in order to force acceptance of the one desired, as though no third possibility exists. Here either one man dies, or the whole nation is destroyed. What aids Caiaphas in holding the Sanhedrin to these alternatives, extreme though they are, is the inability of his colleagues in all their previous deliberations to find a feasible middle course. Thus he claims that only this choice is left: one man’s death or the death of the nation. Note the correct contrast between εἶςἄνθρωπος, “one man,” and ὑπὲρτοῦλαοῦ, “for the benefit of the people” (the great mass), λαός being often used for “the chosen people.” On the other hand, “that the whole nation perish not” has τὸἔθνος, that they lose not their national standing, yet preserving the idea of a great mass over against “one man” by ὅλον, “the whole nation.”

The full force of the alternatives presented by Caiaphas and the fact that they exclude anything like a third choice, is evident from the preposition ὑπέρ, “in behalf of,” “for the benefit of,” but here plainly containing the resultant idea “instead of.” The data on this preposition are given under 10:11. Robertson has shown at length that in all the pertinent connections the idea of substitution expressed by this preposition is beyond question. One “instead” of the other leaves no third choice. One “instead” of the other also removes the appearance of a forced choice between two evils. To die “instead” of another is a vicarious sacrifice—his death would save the nation, keep it alive. The only trouble is that the proposition of Caiaphas will not bear examination.

For one man voluntarily to sacrifice himself for the people would, indeed, be not only a permissible but even a most noble act; but for the Sanhedrin deliberately to kill a man under the plea that he is being killed instead of the nation’s suffering extinction, is quite another thing. For how is this “one man” Jesus to die? Caiaphas carefully avoids even a hint on this point. A moment’s thought reveals that his abstract proposition contemplates nothing less than cold-blooded, judicial murder, either secret assassination by a tool of the Sanhedrin or a mock trial with the verdict being settled in advance. Unscrupulous as the high priest was, he leaves this vital point in abeyance.

Did Caiaphas encounter dissent? Luke 23:51 reports that Joseph of Arimathea did not consent to their counsel and deed. We have no word about Nicodemus, save his former courageous dissent, 7:50, etc. It is a fair conclusion that a minority of the Sanhedrin protested, although to no avail.

John 11:51

51 Now this he said not of himself, but being high priest of that year, he prophesied that Jesus was about to die instead of the nation, and not instead of the nation only but in order that he might also gather into one the children of God that are scattered abroad. This parenthetical (hence δέ) elucidation by John reveals the divine control at this decisive stage in the midst of the enemies of Jesus. The negative “not of himself” is not absolute as though he had nothing to do with his speaking but relative: “not just of himself alone” but with another directing the form of his utterance. He might have voiced his wicked thought in a variety of ways, but God led him to voice it in such a way and with such words as expressed far more than the speaker himself realized when he spoke.

“But being high priest of that year, he prophesied” informs us why God singled out Caiaphas, why his utterance was controlled as indicated, and not the utterance of some other man in the Sanhedrin. We must not hastily conclude that every high priest was also a prophet, for this was not the case. No; God took the high priest “of that year” (compare v. 49), the man who held the notable office which of old in the theocratic order of the first covenant was at times used for decisions vital to the people, and made him serve again, now not through the Urim and Thummim, lost long ago, but through an immediate control of his words to utter a truth absolutely vital not only for the Jewish people but also for all men in the world. “He prophesied”—God controlled his utterance. His wickedness is left wholly intact, his murderous intent and his cunning way of expressing it in order to bring the Sanhedrin to action. Caiaphas is not forced in any way, but the words that come to his lips and that say just what he wants to say are words that also say just what God wants said in this assembly of the chief representatives of the Jews. They want to slay Jesus for their purpose, God will let them slay Jesus for his purpose.

In stating his purpose so as to win the consent of the Sanhedrin Caiaphas so formulates his words that he unconsciously states also God’s purpose. This, John says, was not accidental but due to God. The best formulation that Caiaphas could find to meet the situation he faced was the very formulation God wanted him to find for a purpose of which Caiaphas never thought.

Here we have a peculiar case of verbal inspiration. It is peculiar in that it is unconscious. It is inspiration in that what is uttered and in the way it is uttered we have what God wants uttered and in the way he wants it uttered. The speaker (or writer) may or may not grasp what he is uttering; in 1 Pet. 1:10, 11 we find that even the conscious prophets of God study their own words.

When restating what Caiaphas said John interprets his unconscious prophecy for us. “That Jesus was about to die instead of the people” states the impending fact (ἔμελλεν). In the direct form the main verb would be the present tense (“he is about to die”), which here and sometimes in the classics is changed to a past tense in the indirect discourse (“he was about,” etc.), R. 1029. The present infinitive “to die” is descriptive of the dying as it will occur. Whereas Caiaphas uses λαός, John substitutes ἔθνος. Caiaphas thinks of the mass of the covenant people; John interprets that Jesus will die for the Jews, not as being the covenant people (they had long forsaken that covenant), but as being a human nation. But this compels him at once to add, “and not instead of the nation only,” i.e., the Jewish nation, but instead of all other nations likewise—his death will be vicarious and substitutional for all men.

The prophecy of Caiaphas was only partial, although the part stated necessarily involves the remainder not explicitly stated by him. Jesus could not die for the Jews only; his dying would include all other men and nations as well.

John 11:52

52 But John does not stop to say, “not instead of this nation only but also instead of all other nations.” He takes this thought for granted and at once states the ultimate purpose of God, which rests on the universality of the atonement wrought by Jesus’ death. In this John copies the manner of his Master’s deep and surprising sayings. This ultimate purpose is: “but (for all others likewise) in order that he might also gather into one the children of God that are scattered abroad.” Here John brings in what lies in λαός as used by Caiaphas, the idea of a sacred covenant people; but John again expands the term, as he necessarily must, to include all God’s chosen people in the grand new covenant, gathered from among all nations and people. Although this vast host extends through generations not yet born, they are already in advance called “the children of God,” as the Scriptures do this repeatedly, 10:16; 17:9 and 20; Acts 18:10. The fact that this proleptic designation rests on the infallible foreknowledge of God, which knows all his own in all ages to come, is shown in connection with 10:16. These coming believers, at first “scattered abroad” without faith (like sheep going their own way, Isa. 53:6), when they are brought to faith will by means of that faith “be gathered together into one,” ἕν, a unit, one spiritual body, “one fold” under “one Shepherd,” the true Laos of the New Testament, the great Una Sancta which is already one shall at last stand before Jesus as one in glory.

The aorist subjunctive συναγάγῃ implies that this divine purpose regarding the children of God in all nations and in all ages will, indeed, be realized. In all the redemptive work of the Son God always looks to what we may call the net result: the souls that will actually be brought to eternal salvation.

John 11:53

53 From that day, therefore, they took counsel to kill him. The aorist is historical and reports the fact. “From that day” marks that as the decisive day. The ἵνα clause is not final but subfinal and states the subject on which they agreed “that day” and on which they then took counsel, namely on ways and means to effect the killing. Hence the present tense ἀποκτείνωσιν. Jesus brought back life to Lazarus; the Jews plan to bring death to the Lifegiver. Yet despite all their counselling they themselves never found a way—Judas had to show them the way.

John 11:54

54 Jesus, therefore, was no longer walking openly among the Jews but departed thence to the country near the desert, to a town called Ephraim, and there he remained with the disciples. Jesus did not return to Perea from Bethany but went to a new locality, which is designated broadly as “the country near the desert,” a retired section, and then specifically “a town called Ephraim,” a small place, so little known that its present location is in dispute. It was probably located in northern Judea. Here Jesus remained until the approach of the Passover season.

John 11:55

55 Now the Passover of the Jews was near, and many went up to Jerusalem from the country before the Passover in order to purify themselves. “From the country” is here used in contrast to “Jerusalem” and refers to the land in general and not merely to the locality where Jesus at this time was. These early pilgrims went to Jerusalem in time to attend to the Levitical purification, which, because of some defilement, they needed in order to be fit for the Passover celebration. They took sufficient time to attend to the required lustrations, sacrifices, and other rites that were required.

John 11:56

56 They were, therefore, seeking Jesus and were saying to each other while standing in the Temple, What do you think? That he will not at all come to the feast? They looked for him thus early and, standing in groups in the Temple courts, asked each other’s opinion, “What do you think?” And then, suggesting an opinion themselves, they ask: Do you, too, think “that he will not at all come to the feast?” That seemed to be the general expectation. The οὑμή with the subjunctive is the strongest form of negation.

John 11:57

57 What made it seem so doubtful to these pilgrims that Jesus would come was the decree of the Sanhedrin. Now the high priests and the Pharisees had given order that if anyone should know where he was, he should furnish the information in order that they might arrest him. The connective δέ is not adversative, in contrast with the questions of the pilgrims, but a parenthetical statement needed to understand the situation. Hence also the past perfect “had given orders,” i.e., prior to the arrival of these pilgrims. The subfinal ἵνα states the contents of the “orders.” The authorities expect that someone will know, hence the condition with ἐάν and the aorist subjunctive γνῷ, actually know. Yet nobody, it seems, knew.

The purpose clause, “in order that they might arrest him,” is not a part of the orders but is added to show why the orders were given. The Sanhedrin had thus settled how they would bring Jesus to death. It was not to be done by assassination but by due legal process. This was probably due to the influence of the Pharisees.

With the situation at the approach of the festival thus before us, John again turns to Jesus.

R. A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research, by A. T. Robertson, fourth edition.

C.-K. Biblisch-theologisches Woerterbuch der Neutestamentlichen Graezitaet von D. D. Hermann Cremer, zehnte, etc., Auflage, herausgegeben von D. Dr. Julius Koegel.