(avg. read time: 14–29 mins.)
Today I want to share with you a shorter version of another one of my published articles:
“The Raising of Lazarus and the Historical Deeds of Jesus,” EQ 89 (2018): 346–64.
I refer the readers there for more detail and research on the various intersecting subjects addressed here. I may discuss more extensively the subject of Historical Jesus studies another time, as there are a lot of issues of so many kinds to address. I wrote this particular article to address three areas of concern. One, of the canonical Gospels, John is the one that has traditionally received the least attention or the most dismissal in the debates of Historical Jesus studies. It is the singular source for many stories of Jesus, and many of those stories are more speech-oriented than action-oriented (and since the style of speech often appears distinct from the Synoptics, it is too often taken to reflect the author much more than the historical Jesus). But some scholars (noted in the article) have argued for ascribing more significant value to it as reflecting the historical Jesus.
Two, of the singular stories in John, none have raised more frequent objections to its historicity than the raising of Lazarus. This is not simply due to its miraculous nature, although that is obviously part of it. It is also due to how problematic it appears that John assigns so much significance to the raising of Lazarus that it catalyzes the plot to kill Jesus, yet none of the Synoptics mention it. Indeed, this particular Lazarus is never explicitly mentioned in any other first-century source and is a mere blip on the radar in what is extant from the second century. Why do these other sources not mention him if his being raised from the dead was this important?
Three, apart from the resurrection of Jesus, it is one of the best entry points into the intersection of miracles, historiography, and whether an historian can ascribe historicity to the occurrence of a miraculous event (that is, rationally argue that a miracle claim is the best available explanation for an event). I explore these issues in greater detail in my article, but I also refer to discussions that are more detailed than mine could be in this context. For this particular intersection of issues, I particularly recommend my professor Craig Keener’s Miracles, as well as Michael Licona’s The Resurrection of Jesus. Colin Brown’s Miracles and the Critical Mind is a great analysis of the history of the concept of “miracle.” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy also has a great article by Timothy McGrew on the concept. One thing that becomes clear through this discussion is how much one’s worldview tends to determine how much probability the individual scholar assigns to this occurrence.
To address these different issues, my article went through four phases: 1) examining methodological issues concerning historians about miracles; 2) assessing the general plausibility of the Lazarus episode in the context of the broader story of the historical Jesus; 3) assessing the evidence of the Lazarus episode in particular by analyzing John’s text; and 4) evaluating competing hypotheses about the story. I think there is a good case to be made for the historical plausibility of Jesus raising Lazarus, but historical analysis is but one tool. And to really address the issues surrounding this story, we must address the separation of history and theology. But I will return to this below.
Historians and Miracles
As I note in the article, the historian today faces many methodological problems in how to approach the subject of miracles:
First, how does one define the term “miracle” without unduly biasing the results of the historical examination? Second, worldview considerations obviously influence the verdicts for and against these events significantly. Is it then possible to approach miracle claims in a methodologically neutral way so as to reduce—but not entirely eliminate—such subjective influence? Third, if it is possible—as I argue—for a historian qua historian to adjudicate on miracles and even rationally assent to a miracle claim as the best available explanation for an event, how might a historian make this judgment in a methodologically neutral and sound way? (347)
For the first problem, it is necessary to have a working definition of “miracle.” My definition, which I largely derive from Licona, is that miracles are events that exceed the productive capacities of nature, which are performed in a religiously significant context and attributed to the power of a deity (possibly operating through a mediator) to demonstrate that this deity is acting. This definition is not without problems in its restrictiveness, but it is important to note that miracles are a subset of divine action, not simply a term for divine action in general. And indeed, some use the term “miracle” not necessarily because the event itself was unimaginable in principle, but because the timing of it made it especially impactful and meaningful. Furthermore, “religiously significant context” is difficult to define with precision, and so it is best to work with a centered-set as opposed to a bounded-set approach, but I think it is safe to say that we are operating near the “center” of the concept rather than at the fringes when we deal with a healer raising the dead while claiming to be on a mission from God.
As for the second problem, I have discussed more about the concept of worldview in this series, so for my purposes here I simply to focus on definition I give for the concept, which I draw from my dissertation. A worldview is a commitment that fundamentally orients and integrates persons and communities—in terms of cognition, affection, valuation, and so on—that provides them a framework in relation to reality, which can be expressed as a narrative, a system of symbols, actions, presuppositions, and (in attempts to synopsize these expressions) articulated sets of beliefs. Everyone interprets events through a worldview grid of expectations and beliefs, and any evaluation of events, especially concerning miracles because of their greater potential to shift worldviews, must account for the role of worldviews. As such, a methodologically neutral approach cannot simply take for granted David Hume’s argument against miracles based on his own worldview narrative that he (wrongly) thought constituted “universal” experience. (In the article, I note some problems with Hume’s argument with references to others who deal with his argument in more detail.) But nothing in principle prevents granting the possibility of an assumption of a deity that acts in history—without necessarily granting a larger worldview framework of which it is a part—for the sake of the argument until it can be shown to be a less likely explanation than another, like how physicists sometimes posit the existence of objects that are not directly observable (such as black holes, dark matter, quarks, and gluons) that explain some given fact of reality. But the historian is also not necessarily in a position to prove the existence of such a deity, hence they cannot, qua historian, affirm a miracle claim in its fullest sense so as to render a theological verdict. And, of course, another factor to consider is that the case could be that the miracle claim is the best available explanation, but the evidence is such that it does not lend sufficient probability that it could influence someone to alter a worldview that inclines them to deny a miracle.
As for the third problem, historians need not depart from fundamentally sound principles of historical investigation, which involves gathering evidence, formulating hypotheses, and testing those hypotheses:
Gathering evidence involves both analysis of what evidence an event would produce—Julius Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon would likely not produce a written record in China or pictographic representations in South America—and a study of the evidence that remains of given events. Formulating hypotheses involves analyzing the evidence and providing explanations of it. Testing hypotheses involves determining the best explanation for the body of evidence. Each of these processes must take into account the worldviews of the analysts who seek to understand the event in question in the context of their worldviews. Events are not isolated from contexts. The question is: which ostensible context yields the best explanation of the event? To answer this question requires critical reflection, which in turn can lead to constructing, reinforcing, modifying, or changing one’s worldview according to the events occurring in the world. (350)
To determine the best explanation requires testing explanations according to five criteria: 1) background plausibility (the degree to which it is implied by the background knowledge taken for granted); 2) explanatory scope (the extent of the data explained); 3) explanatory power (how clearly data is explained); 4) simplicity (all other explanatory factors being equal, the ability of a hypothesis to avoid positing unnecessary ad hoc ideas); 5) illumination (the hypothesis is both informative in other areas of research and predictive in light of its expectations). If an event for which a miracle claim is an explanation produces evidence that the historian can gather, study, and test hypotheses on, and that claim can satisfy these criteria better than alternative explanations, the historian qua historian can rationally assent to a miracle claim as a plausible explanation of an event. But again, the historian restricted to their capacity as historian could not confirm the miracle claim in its fullest sense. In short, they could say, “he was returned to life after a given time of being dead,” but they could not historically confirm without appeal to theology, “God raised him from the dead.”
Raising the Dead and the Historical Jesus
The variety of testimony that Jesus performed actions that fit our definition of “miracle” is such that it is more likely that Jesus did something to spawn these stories than that the earliest Christians invented them whole cloth within living memory of his life (i.e., within ~80 years, a framework I take from my old professor, Dr. Craig Keener). One can see even opponents granting this, although they might describe the actions as “magic” rather than miracle (Matt 12:24 // Mark 3:20–30 // Luke 11:14–23; Josephus, Ant. 18.63–64; Origen, Cels. 1.38, 160; b. Sanh. 43a).
Specifically related to the action of raising the dead, a variety of sources in the Gospels attest to this. A triple tradition story—the only such triply attested raising story—relates the raising of Jairus’s daughter (Mark 5:21–43 // Matt 9:18–26 // Luke 8:40–56). Jairus himself is named in Mark 5:22 and Luke 8:41, but not in Matthew, perhaps because he was known to Mark, Luke, and their respective implied audiences, but not to Matthew and/or Matthew’s implied audience. There does not appear to be a reason to invent this story or, if it was invented, to not attach it to a more prominent individual, unless the memory of the story was a constraint.
What is commonly regarded as a Q text (although I am not inclined to agree with the Q hypothesis) shared between Matthew and Luke in Matt 11:5 // Luke 7:22 attests to it generally, which Jesus interprets by reference to Isa 35:5–6 and 61:1 (I did not note Isa 26:19 in my article, but one should include it as well; cf. 4Q521 2 II, 1–12). However, it is notable that the authors who share this text frame the action differently. Luke presents Jesus in comparison to Elijah and Elisha (4:24–27), the other prophets who raised the dead (1 Kgs 17:17–24; 2 Kgs 4:18–37), particularly since this text immediately follows the story of Jesus raising the son of the widow of Nain (7:11–17). This framing is absent in Matthew, although Jesus quoting the Scriptures in connection with himself fits Matthew’s overall emphasis on highlighting how Jesus fulfills eschatological expectations from Scripture.
Third, there is the story of the raising of the widow’s son at Nain in Luke 7. Unless there was a source story for this that went back early, one wonders why Luke has placed this story in such an obscure village (in contrast to Apollonius of Tyana raising or simply quickening a consul’s daughter in Rome in Philostratus, Vit. 4.45). More likely, the story (and perhaps its teller) was known to Luke’s audience or his source(s) and so he was constrained by that knowledge.
Before I analyze the fourth story of Lazarus below, which also belongs to one source, there are a few things to note about the traditions of Jesus raising the dead. One, they exist in at least four strands of sources for documents written within living memory, so it is likely that Jesus himself did something to create the impression that this was what he did. Two, as I note briefly in the article, there is a low background plausibility to people inventing these claims whole cloth within living memory of Jesus because there is a general paucity of miracle claims attributed to figures within 200 years of Jesus’s ministry. Three, only one of the specific stories is narrated in multiple Gospels, while the other case that appears in multiple texts is a general statement. Four, theological interpretation is inextricable from the historical event in the narration of the Gospels. In other words, if theological interpretation is to be regarded as a problem for historical investigation, this is not a unique problem for the Johannine narrative. But in any case, neither for John or the other Gospel authors is it the case that they are writing Christology under the guise of writing history, but that they see in history—especially the events of Jesus’s ministry—the revelation of Christology, meaning that the two cannot be truly separated in their work.
Gathering Evidence from John 11
Here, again, I simply reiterate my opening paragraph from the section in my article:
If Jesus actually did something that gave his contemporaries reason to believe that he raised a man to life who had been dead beyond all reasonable doubt, one would expect it to produce evidence in the form of a story more or less like John’s narrative. At the same time, it is precisely because the actual amount [sic.] evidence does not match the expected amount of evidence that scholars have difficulty rendering a simple affirmative verdict of historicity for this story. If such an extraordinary event happened, one might expect evidence in the other Gospels—whether in the form of the Lazarus story itself or in some implication that his raising led to Jesus’s death—and in other documentation in the early Christian sources that Lazarus was a well-known man in the Christian movement (being the recipient of an especially remarkable miracle near the epicenter of that movement). The fact that this evidence is lacking outside of John could possibly count against its historicity—at least as stated as a raising of a subsequently important man four days after he died—but only if there is insufficient evidence to indicate otherwise. In any case, this is an omission that requires explanation due to the significance John attributes to the event. (354)
With these points in mind, what evidence can we gather that needs explanation? First, we need to set aside what is not relevant for historical evaluation: the expository dialogue between Jesus and the disciples (vv. 7–16), the note that Jesus was angered and troubled (v. 33), the dialogue of Martha and Jesus near the tomb (vv. 39b–40), and Jesus’s prayer, which assumes occurrence of the forthcoming miracle and does not seem to have caused it directly per se (vv. 41b–42). These features contribute to the narrative quality of the text, but they tell us nothing positive or negative about historicity. With that said, let us outline the evidence gathered.
1) At a meta level, the very interpretive lens—particularly as a “sign”—given to this event could be an indication that something like it happened in order to leave this impression. The meaning is a central feature of the memory, and it was crucial to the memory moving from a personal memory of the participants to a memory shared with the community, who would then reinforce its preservation in its recitation. And because communal memories in particular work by association through comparison and contrast, the Lazarus story likely circulated not as an independent episode, but in connection with the passion narrative, although its circulation was not necessarily as universal as the passion narrative.
2) Because of the importance of the theological framing to this memory, it is likely that vv. 21–27 were also an early part of the story. This exchange fits the historical context, as Martha assumes that Jesus refers to the eschatological resurrection, as he does elsewhere and as was expected in many Jewish works known at the time (5:25–29; 6:39–40, 44, 54; cf. Isa 26:19; Dan 12:2–3; 2 Macc 7; 1 En. 50–51; 90:20–38; 108:11–15; Sib. Or. 2.214–251; 4.179–192; Apocr. Ezek. frag. 1; 4 Ezra 7:32–44; 2 Bar 50:2–4; 51:1–6; T. Jud. 25; T. Zeb. 10:2; T. Benj. 10:6–11; Apoc. Mos. 13:2–5; LAB 3:10; 19:12–13; 25:7; Pss. Sol. 3:12; 1QHa XIX, 12–13; 4QpsEzekb 1 I; 4Q521 2 II, 12). Likewise, her affirmation that Jesus is the Messiah and the Son of God who is coming into the world fits some messianic expectations of the time (Sib. Or. 5.414–433; 4 Ezra 7:28–44; 12:31–34; 13:1–3; 2 Bar 39:7–40:3; T. Jud. 24; T. Dan 5:10–13; T. Naph. 8:2–3; T. Benj. 11; Pss. Sol. 17:21–46; 4Q246 II, 1). Of course, the narrator may be presenting this statement as dramatic irony, because Martha does not yet comprehend what this identity entails for what Jesus will do, as Jesus is the one who defines what it means from him to be Messiah and Son of God (cf. 1:41; 3:16–18, 28, 35–36; 4:25, 29; 5:19–23, 25–26; 6:40; 7:26–27, 31, 41–42; 8:36; 9:22; 10:24; 11:4; 12:34; 14:13; 17:1; 20:31).
3) The fact that Lazarus, Mary, and Martha are named in this miracle story is significant. The petitioners for a miracle story are only named in two stories: Jairus in the aforementioned story and the sisters of Lazarus here. And the only two cases in which the recipient of a miracle are named are Bartimaeus in Mark 10:46–52 and Lazarus here. Like other non-prominent figures named in the Gospels, he is probably named because he is known to the author and/or his audience.
4) Another similarity with the last story is that in both cases the location is named: Jericho for Bartimaeus and Bethany for Lazarus. All the Gospels reference Bethany, but only John accurately notes its distance from Jerusalem (v. 18: “about fifteen stadia away” [~two miles]; known today as al-Eizariya). This extraneous detail comports with instances in which John provides greater precision in those places where he otherwise parallels the Synoptic authors (6:4–10; 12:1–8; 13:23–30; 18:10, 13–28; 19:13–14, 19–20, 31, 39).
5) Mary and Martha are also characterized consistently with how Luke describes them in Luke 10:38–42. Martha is the older sister who attends to domestic responsibility while Mary is less observant of conventions in her acts of devotion to Jesus (vv. 19–27, 31–32, 39; 12:2–3).
6) The reference to this event happening four days after Lazarus’s death (vv. 17, 39) is likely also a historical remembrance, although it is sometimes suggested that it resonates with Second Temple Jewish beliefs about the dead. Based on later rabbinic texts, such as Lev. Rab. 18:1 and Qoh. Rab. 12:6 § 1, some scholars argue that the Johannine text shares a background belief with these texts, according to which the soul hovers around the body for three days or the face changes after the third day. Of course, there is obvious difficulty in linking these traditions in much later texts to first-century Jewish beliefs. The closest analogy contemporary with John is Apoc. Zeph. 4:7 (cf. the vaguer T.Abr. 20:11; T.Job 53:5–8), which describes angels going around in the air with the souls of the ungodly until they cast them into eternal punishment. Thus, it is not likely that John is drawing on this kind of background when he states the length of time that Lazarus has been dead. It is more likely that this figure is part of the historical remembrance, and it is stated in the narrative to convey that Lazarus is thoroughly dead.
7) Otherwise, what John records of the burial of Lazarus comports with Jewish burial rituals during this time, in that Lazarus is wrapped in burial cloths and placed in a rock-hewn tomb that is sealed with a large stone, presumably in anticipation of a secondary burial a year later when his bones would be gathered.
8) The way Jesus is described as performing the miracle coheres with how many other miracle traditions portray Jesus as working miracles with a command (for raising miracles: Mark 5:41 // Luke 8:54; Luke 7:14; for others: Matt 8:3 // Mark 1:41 // Luke 5:13; Matt 8:13 // John 4:50; Matt 8:26 // Mark 4:39 // Luke 8:25; Matt 8:32 // Mark 5:13 // Luke 8:32–33; Matt 9:6–7 // Mark 2:11–12 // Luke 5:24–25; Matt 9:29–30; Matt 12:13 // Mark 3:5 // Luke 6:10; Matt 14:28–29; Matt 15:28 // Mark 7:29–30; Matt 17:18 // Mark 9:25–26 // Luke 9:42; Mark 1:25–26 // Luke 4:35; Mark 7:34; Mark 10:52 // Luke 18:42–43; Luke 13:12–13; 17:14; John 2:8–9; 5:8–9; 9:6–7).
9) The final piece that the story proper presents us with is also what has caused the most problems for historical investigation: some respond to this miracle by going to the Pharisees and setting the plot of the passion narrative in motion (vv. 46–50, 53). In the Synoptics, the most direct impetus is provided by Jesus’s action at the temple, which John does not narrate here (I have address elsewhere the question of the relationship between the Gospels’ narrations of a temple incident). However, it is possible to overstate this contrast, given how much the Gospels agree about the presence of a long-standing conflict between Jesus and the Jewish leaders that led the latter to plot his destruction more than once (Matt 12:1–14 // Mark 2:23–3:6 // Luke 6:1–11; Matt 12:22–45 // Mark 3:20–30; Matt 21:15–16 // Luke 19:39–40 // John 12:19; Matt 21:33–46 // Mark 12:1–12 // Luke 20:9–19; Matt 22 // Mark 12:13–37 // Luke 20:20–44; Matt 23 // Luke 11:37–54; Matt 26:3–5 // Mark 14:1–2 // Luke 22:1–2; Mark 11:18 // Luke 19:47–48; John 2:13–22; 7:32–36, 40–52; 8:12–59; 10:22–39; 11:47). As I propose in the article:
Is it possible that the difference in identified cause is a result of the unique testimony that John invokes? After all, John reports on conversations or plans among the authorities, which are without parallel in the Synoptics (7:45-52; 11:56-57; 12:10; 19:21-22). In addition to the possible testimony of Joseph of Arimathea (19:38), which it seems all Synoptic authors had access to via the triple tradition (Matt. 27:57 // Mark 15:43 // Luke 23:50), John could be drawing on the testimony of Nicodemus (3:1; 7:50-51; 19:39) and of the disciple known to the high priest (presumably a third-person reference to the author himself; 18:15-16). (359)
10) Additionally, in the next episode about the plot to kill Jesus, John does in fact provide us with historically plausible material, regardless of how we conclude about the lack of evidence in other Gospels about Lazarus. The Sanhedrin’s concern with losing everything if Jesus should raise a rebellion fits with how the Judean powers conducted themselves, at least according to Josephus, who was in a good position to know. The occupancy of the high priesthood, for instance, had long been subject to powers outside of the priests (Ant. 14.143–144, 192–199; 15.322; 17.78; 18.33–35, 95; 19.312–316; 20.16, 169–184, 196–203; 223). In fact, high priests sometimes lost power after a rebellion (Ant. 17.149–167; 18.1–10, 26; 20.97–103). The Jewish aristocrats were also known for scheming and plotting the destruction of others (e.g., Life 21–23; 236; Ant. 18.117–118; 20.200).
Formulating and Evaluating Hypotheses
There are three basic hypotheses for explaining the evidence as we have it: the Invention Hypothesis (IH), the Amplified Historical Core Hypothesis (AHCH), and the Substantial Historicity Hypothesis (SHH). What each of these theories proposes is basically self-explanatory, but I refer the reader to my article for some brief elaboration and citations.
The IH has little to offer:
Background plausibility: This is negligible due to the lack of tendency for the Gospel writers and contemporaries to invent raising stories about history in living memory, much less involving named figures. This implies at least an intention to write non-fiction.
Explanatory scope: The IH may at best explain the problem posed by 8), but it can cover nothing else in its scope.
Explanatory power: The IH does not clearly explain any of the features besides 8).
Simplicity: The IH inherently relies on multiple ad hoc processes to explain the invention of this story.
Illumination: If the IH fulfills this criterion at all, all it can illuminate is the possibility that John’s singular attestation of signs is evidence that he invented them.
The AHCH fares much better, but is not without questions:
Background plausibility: This hypothesis plausibly posits a historical core that fits with Jesus’s established reputation as a miracle worker and raiser of the dead.
Explanatory scope: The AHCH can explain 3), 4), 5), 7), 8), and 10) well enough. However, since proponents tend to assign vv. 21–27 to Johannine augmentation of this story, it struggles in explaining 1) and 2) beyond that step. 9) is of course the key piece of evidence for amplification, as there is evidence of a historical core here, but the fact that other Gospels do not mention it perhaps indicates that the original event was no more spectacular than the other raising stories in the Gospels. 6) is thus interpreted as evidence for amplification, as this remarkable event is remarkably absent from other Gospels, which is difficult to explain unless Lazarus being dead for four days is an amplification on a story more like other raising stories.
Explanatory power: The AHCH clearly explains the historical core conveyed through 3), 4), 5), 7), 8), and 10). Its explanation is less powerful for 1) and 2), since we have seen that there is reason to regard vv. 21–27 and the theological framing as belonging to the early story and not simply to John’s addition. It is much more powerful in explaining 9), but it lacks plausibility in addressing 6) as an invention based on supposedly common beliefs.
Simplicity: On this score, AHCH also fares better than IH, but it must still posit a complex redactional history over the course of a few decades to provide said amplification, a redaction process that would be complicated by evidence that could otherwise be in its favor, unless the AHCH posits them as part of the amplification (e.g., the fact that Lazarus was close to Jesus and his family was close to Jesus).
Illumination: If the AHCH is otherwise sound, the posited process of redaction history could explain the developments of other such miracle stories.
The SHH is overall better than the AHCH, but not overwhelmingly so:
Background plausibility: The hypothesis that the story is substantially historical as is coheres well with our background knowledge of the memories of Jesus’s acclaimed miraculous deeds, as well as with our knowledge of the Jewish historical context.
Explanatory scope: The SHH does not discount any of the pieces of evidence present and includes all of them in its explanation.
Explanatory power: With the possible exception of 9), which I address further below, the SHH explains powerfully the presence of each piece of evidence. It explains 1) and 2) more elegantly than the alternatives and it does not resort to specious suppositions to explain 6). The other various details fit the explanation of why John’s story is the way that it is and why John presents his unique information.
Simplicity: The SHH can possibly involve ad hoc explanations for why this story is absent in other Gospels, but mostly the explanations rely on more general observations about the Gospels. But even if one piece of ad hoc explanation were necessary for accepting this view, the hypothesis would require less ad hoc than the AHCH.
Illumination: If otherwise sound, the SHH could illuminate the relationship of theology and history in John as being a function of memory and it may provide illumination on the sources of testimony for this Gospel.
The most difficult point to explain in all of this is 9). But the reason why I do not see it as a defeater in and of itself of the SHH is because, “it is better to explain what is present than to explain the absence of what some might expect to be present (since there could be any number of reasons to explain the absence, but the more concrete nature of present evidence provides more restriction for the number of possible explanations)” (363). The absence is difficult to explain, but it is not so overwhelmingly significant as to drown out all other pieces of evidence.
There have been some explanations provided for this absence, which I review in the article. One is that the earlier Synoptic Gospel accounts still found it useful to protect Lazarus with anonymity by not even mentioning his story, but John comes after a time when such protection is unnecessary. While I mention this as being one of the more probable options, I am not particularly convinced by it, and it appears too speculative.
Another explanation is that it does not appear in the Synoptics simply because it does not appear in Mark, generally accepted as a major source for the other two. There may be something to this idea, as particularly around the passion narrative the other two Synoptics conform relatively closely to Mark in structure and his work could have served well as a model for how the others presented their information. Also, this explanation can be combined with the other for explaining why Mark specifically did not include Lazarus. What works against this idea is that there are still several differences between Mark and the other Synoptics in terms of what information is presented in this portion of the books, and it is difficult to say definitively whether or not Matthew and Luke knew the story at all and, if they did, why they would not include it simply because it was not in Mark (when that does not stop them otherwise). Such are the inherent problems faced when trying to explain an absence, where scholars are all too eager to posit what an ancient person did not know based on what does not appear in their work.
Another explanation still is that the other Gospel authors thought that too many raising stories, especially two in proximity as in John, might have been theologically inappropriate in diminishing the uniqueness of Jesus’s resurrection. This is the least likely explanation, particularly since Matthew’s story of the risen saints in 27:52–53 severely undermines this point. Similarly unlikely is the suggestion that the Synoptic authors have more theological emphasis on miracles performed in Galilee. This is true to the general tendency of the Synoptics compared to John (where more happens in Judea and even Samaria), but it is unclear why this should affect something close to the passion narrative.
Finally, what is perhaps the most likely of the given explanations so far (even if it is not overwhelmingly so), is that the story was not attached to the passion narrative in the streams of tradition the Synoptic authors incorporated. As noted above, it is unlikely that this story circulated independently and was probably attached to the passion story in the special Johannine tradition early. This would also make sense if the author of John had special access to information from his sources that the other authors did not (or he at least assigned greater value to that information). That would still leave a question of why Peter, who is traditionally linked to Mark, or Matthew, or other eyewitnesses close to Jesus, who would have also known Lazarus, Martha, and Mary, did not make this link in their storytelling. In other words, the question of absence is pushed back one step, but not completely addressed. It simply may not be possible to get a clear answer to all the questions that arise here.
Conclusion
I will not repeat here the entirety of my conclusion from the article, although I think that does well to summarize the issues addressed. Some things, however, do need restatement. While I do think that the SHH can be established through following sound historical methodology to be the best explanation of the evidence we have, it is important to remember the limitations of historical investigation. The historian qua historian cannot definitively assert that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead by the power of God. One must depend on larger worldview considerations to render a verdict for or against this proposition. Likewise, while the SHH may be the best explanation, its probability as supported by the evidence is unlikely to be decisively influential for anyone whose presuppositions involve denying miraculous events can occur. Anyone who is “on the fence” may be persuaded by the balance tipping in one direction. But we must admit that the event is such that simply assenting to the probability (or lack thereof) that it happened would be insufficient as a response. If we are to assess the significance of affirming or denying its occurrence, we cannot ultimately avoid engaging theological considerations, which clearly the author of John wants us to think about. In this way, we would rejoin the considerations of theology and history that John regarded as properly inseparable. For such (preliminary) theological analysis in which this story is included, see here and here.