Dear brothers and sisters,
This Sunday, the liturgy places us before the deepest human fear: death. Not only physical death, but every form of interior, relational, and spiritual death that touches our lives. Astonishingly, the Church gives us these readings before Easter for a reason. Why? Is it an error? Surely it can’t be an error. It is simply because Lent is not simply a path toward the Resurrection, it is a journey into the very places where we need resurrection. Today’s Word is not a distant promise for the end of time. It is a call to let God’s life enter the places we have sealed with stones.
In the first reading, Israel, exiled and broken, cries out: “Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost.” Into this despair, God speaks a shocking promise: “I will open your graves and bring you back.”. Notice how everything begins with God. He does not ask Israel to climb out. He does not wait for Israel to improve. He Himself enters the grave and brings life from within. This is always the pattern of salvation. God goes where we cannot. He enters the places we fear the most, the failures we hide the most, the wounds we bury the most. Hence, we notice that the Resurrection begins not with our effort, but with God’s initiative.
Saint Paul takes this promise and brings it to its climax: “The Spirit of the One who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you.” Christianity is not moral improvement; it is divine indwelling. The same Spirit who breathed life into the dry bones, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the tomb, is already at work in the baptized. Paul contrasts two ways of living: a life closed in on itself, self-reliant, self-protective, spiritually suffocating and a life open to God’s power, receptive, surrendered, free. Resurrection is not only about the future. It is a present transformation. The Spirit is already loosening the grave clothes of fear, sin, and resignation.
The Gospel presents to us the raising of Lazarus which is in fact the final and greatest sign before Jesus’ Passion. It is not a spectacle; it is a revelation of identity: “I am the resurrection and the life”, says Jesus. And look at how Jesus reveals the heart of God. He weeps, showing that God is not indifferent to our suffering. He calls, “Lazarus, come out!”, showing that His word reaches even what is dead. And He commands the community, “Unbind him”, showing that resurrection is personal but never private. God’s grace often reaches us through the hands and hearts of others. God involves us in one another’s liberation. God chooses to heal us not only through prayer and personal effort, but also through the presence, compassion, and courage of the people He places in our lives. It’s a beautiful truth: God could free us alone, but He prefers to free us together.
Lastly one may ask, why does the Church proclaim resurrection before Easter? The answer is that it’s because Lent is not a funeral march. It is a conversion into life. Before we celebrate Christ’s victory, we must recognize the places where we need it. The Church proclaims resurrection now so that we dare to hope before we see, to trust before we understand, to open the tomb before the stone rolls away.
Every person carries a “Lazarus”: a relationship that has cooled, a dream that has faded, a habit that enslaves, a fear that paralyzes, a sin that suffocates. Where have you said, like Israel, “My hope is lost”? Where have you sealed the tomb? Christ stands before that place today.
The God who opened Israel’s graves, the God who raised Jesus from the dead, the God who called Lazarus back to life, is the same God who speaks to us now. Resurrection is not only Christ’s destiny. It is ours as well because Christ earned it for us. So, Lent is the season when we dare to believe it.
And so, brothers and sisters, as we stand on the threshold of Holy Week, let us not be afraid to let Christ draw near to the places we keep hidden. He does not come to condemn our graves but to open them. He does not come to shame our darkness but to shed light into it. He does not come to expose our weakness but to breathe His Spirit into it. If you find yourself tired, discouraged, or carrying something that feels too heavy to lift, remember this: Jesus does not ask you to roll away the stone by yourself. He only asks you to let Him stand before it. He only asks you to let His voice reach the place you thought was beyond salvation. And when He calls, because He ‘will’ call, may we have the courage to take even one small step toward the light. And may we allow one another to “unbind” what still restricts us, because resurrection is always a gift shared in community.
The God who opened graves in Israel, who raised His Son from the dead, who called Lazarus back to life, desires to do the same in us. Not someday. Not only at the end of time. But now, in this Lent, in this Eucharist, in this very moment. May we dare to believe that nothing in us is too dead for God, and nothing in God is too small for us. And may this Lent become the season when we finally let Him bring us back to life.
Let Christ stand before the places you’ve sealed shut, because nothing in you is too dead for His resurrection.
Amen.
By: Jean Damascène Bimenyimana, M.Afr.