Fifth Lent

John 11: 33 – 36

When Jesus saw her sobbing and the Jews with her sobbing, a deep anger welled up within him. He said, “Where did you put him?” “Master, come and see,” they said. Now Jesus wept. The Jews said, “Look how deeply he loved him.”

This week we encounter one of the most striking and human moments in the life of Jesus Christ. Standing outside the tomb of his friend Lazarus, Jesus sees the grief of Mary, Martha and the community gathered around them. The Gospel tells us that he is “deeply moved” and troubled. Then comes the shortest and perhaps most powerful line in Scripture. Jesus wept.

For educators in Catholic schools, this moment during the fifth week of Lent speaks directly into the daily reality of our classrooms and staffrooms. Before the miracle, before the dramatic moment when Lazarus walks out of the tomb, Jesus pauses in the space of grief. He does not rush past it. He does not explain it away. He stands with people in their sorrow.

Teaching is often a ministry of exactly that kind of presence. Every classroom carries unseen stories. A student may arrive carrying anxiety, loss, family struggles, or the quiet pressure to succeed. Teachers themselves often hold their own burdens while trying to create calm and hope for others. In this scene, Jesus models something deeply relevant for educators today. He notices. He feels. He stands with people in their pain.

In a culture that often values efficiency, outcomes, and quick solutions, the tears of Jesus remind us that compassion is never wasted time. When a teacher pauses to listen to a struggling student, notices the quiet child who seems withdrawn, or simply creates a classroom where young people feel safe and known, something profoundly Gospel-centred is happening. The miracle begins long before Lazarus walks out of the tomb. It begins with empathy.

The people watching Jesus say, “See how he loved him.” They recognise love not because of a miracle but because of his tears. In schools, students often recognise the same thing. They remember the teacher who cared. They remember the teacher who noticed. They remember the teacher who stayed present when things were difficult.

As Lent moves toward Easter, this passage invites educators to reflect on the power of presence. The Christian story does not begin with resurrection. It moves through compassion, solidarity, and shared humanity. In the classroom, the same pattern often holds true. Transformation begins with relationship.

Perhaps the quiet challenge of this Gospel for teachers is simple but profound. Before we try to fix everything, before we search for the perfect strategy or lesson plan, we are invited to do what Jesus did first. Notice the people in front of us. Allow ourselves to be moved by their stories. Create spaces where young people feel seen and valued.

Sometimes the most Christ-like thing a teacher can do is simply to stand beside a student and care. And in that moment, just like in Bethany, love becomes visible.