The two sisters and Nathan prayed fervently for his recovery, and finally Martha rose from her knees. “We must send for Jesus. The Master will know what to do. Has he not laid hands on the sick and healed them? Lazarus is his friend, he will come.”
Nathan gathered himself. “I will go. He is in the countryside of Perea. I should not have trouble finding him.” He looked down at Martha’s stricken face and said gently, “I will bring him to you.” He threw his cloak back on and rushed across the courtyard. As the gate swung closed behind him, Mary looked after him. “He is a true friend, sister. He will find Jesus for us.”
Martha looked back at her brother and listened to his ragged breathing as he tossed about on his pallet. She murmured half to herself, “But will the Master get here in time?”
18
Martha awoke with a start and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Mary?”
Her sister looked up and gave a slight shake of her head. “No change.”
“I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve hardly left his side in two days. You must rest sometime.”
“And you?”
Mary gave her a wan smile. “I’ve dozed a little.”
Mary went for some warm broth, and when she returned, Martha took the bowl and tried to spoon some into her brother’s mouth.
“You must keep up your strength, Lazarus.” She thought desperately for something that would reach him. “The Master is coming. He can help you.”
To her relief, Lazarus opened glazed eyes. “Jesus . . . coming?”
“Yes, yes. He is on his way. Nathan went to find him.”
Mary took one of Lazarus’s hands, but he suddenly jerked it from her grasp, crying out incoherently. Martha bent down to try to understand him, but he seemed to be battling something she couldn’t see.
Suddenly he became calm and Martha realized he had passed out again. The sisters sat watching his chest move agonizingly up and down as he struggled to breathe.
Martha watched her sister put another cold cloth on his forehead and found herself thinking back to when he was small. She was only four years older, yet she had always looked after him for her mother. Oh, the tricks he would play on her! She thought of the mouse he put in her pallet one night that caused her to wake up the neighbors with her screaming. He had been curious about everything, pausing to stoop to watch insects and small creatures in their courtyard. Once he caught a lizard by the tail, and she smiled to herself remembering his bewildered expression when the lizard fled, leaving his broken tail in the little boy’s hand.
Mary suddenly spoke. “Are you all right, sister?”
Martha, startled from her musing, looked up. “I was just thinking of some of the tricks he used to play on us. He was always getting into mischief.”
Mary nodded. “I was remembering the time he decided to ride our donkey, the one that had such a bad temper, and he promptly landed on his bottom. He sat gingerly for a while.”
“And then there was the field mouse he put in my pallet one night.”
“Oh Martha, I thought your screams would wake the entire neighborhood. You checked your bed every night for a month after that.”
The two sisters smiled at each other briefly at the memory.
Martha looked down at Lazarus, still so young. She had ordered her brother and sister around since they were small and even after their father died. Yet in the last two years, Lazarus had become the male head of the household, and she began to defer to his judgment more and more.
Lazarus woke and Mary gave him sips of water. He slept again, his breathing so shallow Martha had to look twice to see if he was even breathing at all.
Martha rubbed her temples, the weariness and sorrow a weight upon her heart. How long could he endure this fever? Leaving Mary to watch over him, she went out to the courtyard and walked slowly to the gate. Where was Jesus? There was no sign of him, or Nathan. Did Nathan have trouble finding the Master? Had Jesus and his disciples moved to another area? Where were they?
As another day passed with no sign of Jesus, Martha’s heart became like a stone in her chest. Didn’t the Master care about them? He had called Lazarus his friend. They had spent many hours talking with one another. Surely at the first news of Lazarus’s illness, Jesus would have left wherever he was ministering and hurried to them.
Fear subtly became anger, but Martha tried to wave it away. Jesus would come. He had to. He wouldn’t let his friend die, would he? She pursed her lips. The frown on her face deepened as she gave free rein to the ugly thoughts.
Martha took turns with Mary, one staying with Lazarus, while the other prepared a meal or fed the animals. Both women slept little and weariness increased the silent tirade that tumbled through Martha’s mind. She thought of all the times she’d prepared food over the last year for Jesus and his disciples, the hours cooking and baking. Now when they needed him, he did not come. And where was Nathan? Had he been waylaid on the road? Had he reached Jesus? The thoughts went round and round in her head until it ached.
A sense of apprehension clutched at Martha’s heart. Her brother’s breathing sounded like dry sticks rubbing together. “Keep fighting, Lazarus, don’t give up!” she murmured. The heat and perspiration from his body told her the fever still raged. Her heart pounded as she called Mary to his side. Martha took one of his hands. Mary, her face mirroring her sister’s fear, took the other.
Lazarus opened his eyes slowly and gave them a weak smile. He struggled to speak, and finally gasped, “Martha, Mary, dear sisters, I’m . . . sorry . . .”
“Sorry for what?” Martha cried. “Lazarus, speak to us.”
He closed his eyes again, sighed, and lay still. His hands went limp in theirs.
“Lazarus?” Mary touched his face and looked up at Martha, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Martha slowly laid her brother’s hand by his side and, choking back a sob, nodded her head. “He is gone.”
The sisters reached for each other over the body of their loved one and wept.
Mary released her sister at last. “I must get Anna.” She rose, steadying herself, and with a sigh, left the house.
Martha knew Mary’s face and sad demeanor would tell the neighbors their brother had died.
Martha looked down at Lazarus a long moment. He seemed as though he were sleeping. She turned and walked slowly out into the courtyard and sank down on a bench to await Mary’s return. Her hair, normally bound up neatly, straggled down the sides of her face. Her shoulders sagged and her hands, which were rarely still, were clasped in her lap. What good would it do if the Master came now? The words echoed in her mind. It is too late . . . too late. Lazarus, his beloved friend, was dead. There was nothing to be done now but prepare the body for burial.
Anna came with haste, bringing ointment and spices, and the three women did what they needed to do with linen cloths and spices to prepare his body for burial. Martha sighed. She had buried her mother and father. Now Lazarus would join them.
The women worked with deft hands, for in the heat of the day Martha knew his body would decompose quickly. Mary’s face was pinched and Martha moved in a daze, methodically doing what they had to do. When they were ready, Shaul, Tobias, and other men from the village came to carry the bier to the gravesite. The two grieving sisters walked with their arms about each other. Martha let the tears flow as she listened to their neighbors and friends cry aloud and cast dust in the air to show their sympathy and grief. The men placed Lazarus’s body in the tomb and pushed the sealing stone in place.
Martha stayed with her sister, weeping and receiving the comfort of their friends near the tomb. When at last the afternoon shadows began to drape over the rocks, the sisters made their way home. Women of the neighborhood brought food. Martha could not cook during the week of mourning, neither did she care. The one she trusted, whom she had put her hope in, had not come.
Women took turns sitting with Mary, but Martha separated
herself. The grief and pain were like a red-hot iron in her chest. She sat in a corner of the courtyard, eating only when her friend Esther’s mother, Judith, brought her some stew and threatened to spoon it into her mouth. Martha’s bitterness rose like bile in her throat as the days went by slowly and there was still no sign of Jesus or Nathan.
Mary tried to comfort Martha, but she too could only say, “If only the Master had been here.”
Martha looked toward the gate. “I just don’t understand. Why didn’t he come?”
The days of mourning passed slowly. Then, on the fourth day after the burial of her brother, Mary sat in the house, surrounded by some of the women of the neighborhood, as she quietly played her harp. Martha remained outside in the courtyard, staring unseeing at the shadows on the wall.
Suddenly Judith rushed into the courtyard. She was nearly out of breath as she shook Martha’s shoulder. “Jesus is coming! He is just outside Bethany.”
Martha looked up slowly. “Jesus is here?” She sat still a long moment. What could she say to him? Could she vent the feelings that had gathered momentum during these last days? For the first time, the thought of having the Teacher and his disciples stay at her home brought a frown.
She stood up and nodded to Judith, who stood by anxiously watching her. Straightening her shoulders, she left the courtyard. She could not bring herself to hurry. There was no need to hurry now. Reluctance slowed her feet as she approached the small group of men, including Nathan, who stood quietly watching her.
All the angry things she had planned to say dissipated as she approached him and looked into his face. His eyes seemed to bore into her very soul. He knew her bitterness, yet there was no condemnation in his gaze. As the depth of his love poured through her, she could only fall on her knees and grasp his hand. The words tumbled forth from her heart. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She heard the reproach in her voice, yet as she looked up at him, a glimmer of hope stirred. “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”
Jesus lifted her to her feet. “Your brother will rise again.”
Martha gave him a quizzical look. “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection, at the last day.”
He smiled at her. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
Did she believe this? Her mind raced as she thought of the recent dark days and the hope that had blossomed, faded, and then died as she waited for Jesus to come.
Jesus stood quietly, waiting for her answer. Did she still believe? She had seen the miracles. She had watched as Jesus healed the lame and sick. How could she deny his power? Lost in the depths of his eyes, to her surprise, like a ray of sunlight on a foggy morning, a sense of peace flowed over her. She felt her heart stir and, in spite of all she had gone through, saw her answer.
She spoke haltingly. “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”
“Would you fetch Mary?”
“Yes, Lord.” She turned and walked quickly back to the house. Nathan caught up to her. She paused to let him open the gate, and then faced him. She had to ask. “Did you have trouble finding him, Nathan?”
He shook his head. “No, I found him quickly. When I told him, he merely nodded and said, ‘This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.’” Nathan frowned. “We stayed there two more days. I felt from his words that Lazarus would live.”
“When you found him, did he realize how ill Lazarus was?”
“He knew. I made it clear. After the two days, he suddenly announced we were heading back to Judea. Then he told us Lazarus slept and he was going to wake him up.”
“Wake him up?” Martha’s eyes widened.
“Yes. Then Peter said, ‘Lord, if he sleeps, he will get well.’”
“The Lord said Lazarus was asleep?”
“We misunderstood. Finally he told us plainly that your brother was dead, and that he was glad for their sakes that he was not there, that they might believe.”
“And that’s when you started for Bethany?”
“Yes, the disciples were concerned about the Jewish leaders and the danger to the Master.” Nathan shook his head. “Thomas agreed they should all go, and if they died, they died.”
Martha shook her head as fresh tears seeped out and streamed down her cheeks. “Thank you, Nathan.” Her thoughts tumbled in confusion, but she said no more.
She entered the house and leaned over, whispering in Mary’s ear. “The Teacher has come and is calling for you.”
As soon as Mary heard those words, she gave a glad cry, laid aside her harp, and hurried to the gate. Unlike Martha, she ran up the road to where Jesus had waited.
Neighbors and friends who had been talking quietly, comforting Mary, watched her go and got up to follow her. As they passed Martha, she overheard one woman say, “She must be going to the tomb to weep. Let us go and weep with her.”
Martha hurried to catch up with her sister.
When Mary saw Jesus, she gave a glad cry and fell at his feet as Martha had done. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Martha saw Jesus look up at the crowd that surged toward him. A groan escaped his lips and his countenance was troubled.
He reached for her hands and lifted Mary as he had done with Martha. Sighing deeply, he asked, “Where have you laid him?”
Martha stepped forward. “Lord, come and see.” At least the Lord wanted to visit her brother’s grave.
Jesus followed the sisters, and as Martha glanced at his face, she was startled to see tears coursing down his cheeks.
The Jews around them murmured to one another, “See how he loved him!”
One of their neighbors who walked behind Martha murmured aloud, “Could not this Man, who opened the eyes of the blind, also have kept this man from dying?” Couldn’t he?
The group approached the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled up against the entrance. Jesus turned and gestured toward the grave.
In a firm voice he commanded, “Take away the stone.”
Martha gasped. “Lord, by this time there is a stench. He has been dead four days.”
He turned, and she felt the full impact of his gaze. “Did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?”
Bewildered, she turned to Nathan, who hesitated, but only for a moment. He motioned to Simon and Tobias, and the three men pushed until the large stone slowly moved away from the entrance to the tomb.
The people watching stepped back, covering their noses. Martha raised her shawl to her nose. The smell could be terrible. What was the Lord doing? Why would he put them through this agony?
Everyone watched Jesus expectantly. Tension buzzed through the crowd like a hive of bees.
Martha saw Jesus lift his eyes toward the heavens and heard him say in a voice that carried through the crowd, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. And I know that you always hear me, but because of the people who are standing by I said this, that they may believe that you sent me.”
Then he cried out, “Lazarus, come forth!”
Martha froze. She held her breath, her eyes were riveted on the opening of the cave. Something was happening. She clutched Mary’s arm, her eyes wide with fear. A shuffling sound was heard within the cave, and Martha saw what appeared to be a dark shape in the shadows. Then, to her astonishment, a wrapped figure moved slowly from the darkness of the cave and shuffled into the sunlight. Bound head and foot with the grave clothes, his face covered with the burial cloth, the figure stood swaying before them. The crowd gasped. There were shrieks of disbelief and some cried out in fear that it was a ghost. Others fell on their faces, giving glory to God.
Martha’s fist went to her mouth. Her heart pounded and her mouth opened and closed
but no sound came forth. Her feet felt as if they were rooted to the ground, but Mary, weeping with joy, hugged her.
Jesus waved a hand. “Loose him and let him go.”
Mary pulled her forward. “Sister, our brother is restored to us.”
Martha allowed Mary to bring her closer to the body. An odor seeped from the grave clothes as she reached out hesitantly to touch him. “Lazarus?”
A muffled voice answered.
Mary quickly pulled the cloth off his face, and Martha gasped as she once again looked upon her beloved younger brother. She and Mary began to frantically tear the wrappings from him. Nathan stepped forward suddenly to steady Lazarus as he was being set free. Nathan’s eyes, wide with astonishment, looked at Lazarus, and he slowly shook his head. When at last Lazarus was free and he stood before them clad only in a loincloth, his skin nearly glowed with vitality. He smiled at his sisters and gathered them in an embrace. In her joy at the reunion, Martha realized there was no smell of death on him. His skin was healthy and pink.
Martha thought her heart would burst from her chest. “Lazarus, oh my dear brother, you are alive.”
Lazarus examined his hands with wonder. “It would appear that I am.” He turned as Jesus approached him and the two embraced.
“Master? Master,” he repeated softly.
There were cries of “I believe!” “This is truly the Son of God!” People surged forward, wanting to touch Lazarus yet holding back. Was it a dead body that would make them unclean, or was he alive?
A few on the outskirts of the crowd took off on a dead run for Jerusalem. Martha, wiping her eyes on her shawl, saw them leave. Nathan also watched them leave.
“They will tell the leaders,” he said firmly, “and now they will believe.”
Martha’s heart was filled with righteous indignation. How can they not recognize Jesus as the Messiah? Who else but God could raise a man from the dead? She hung her head. “I doubted him, Nathan. I thought because he didn’t come that he didn’t care.”
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