Necromantia: Vol. 1-3 (Three Book Set)

by Matthew Buza

  A small boy rushed up. “Jesus, there is a rabbi here for you. He's traveled a long distance.”

  “From where?”

  “Bethany.”

  “Did he tell you why he came?”

  “Just that he wishes to speak with you.”

  They crossed the camp and walked into a dull brown canvas tent. Inside the young rabbi was sitting close to a cotton pillow and staring at collections of scrolls. He was startled and quickly stood, giving a short bow to Jesus as he entered.

  The young man spoke. “My Rabbi, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

  Jesus silently touched his forehead and waved him down and they sat amongst the soft rugs that covered the dirt ground. “I’m pleased you made it this far to see me. When did you leave?”

  “I left in the evening and rode through the night.”

  “That seems urgent.”

  “It is Rabbi. Your friend Lazarus has fallen ill.”

  Jesus shifted nervously. “How ill?”

  “Martha and Mary are both concerned. They have asked me to find you and beg that you come to see them.”

  “Have you seen Lazarus yourself? How ill is he?”

  “I saw him, Rabbi. His breathing was labored and his veins have turned dark and he twitches in his sleep. I… I don't know how long he may have, but he needs your help.”

  The tent flaps parted and John leaned his head into the tent. “Jesus is there something wrong?”

  Jesus rubbed his head and waved John into the tent. “Yes, sit down. It seems that Lazarus has fallen ill and it looks dire.”

  “Was he working with someone?” John asked.

  “Possibly with someone in Jerusalem, but I don’t know right now. He was interfacing with some prayer groups, but I can't be for certain.”

  The young rabbi jumped in. “I'm sorry, do you think you know why he is ill?”

  Jesus responded. “I do, but I'd have to confirm it. Based on the symptoms you’ve told me I can only guess.”

  “This sounds like more than just illness.” Jesus and John shared a short glance. “Will you be able to come and help him?”

  Jesus sighed. “Not now. I’ll wait here.”

  “But, but I’ve told you he is close to the end? He needs you to heal him.”

  “I understand that,” Jesus answered.

  “With all my respect Rabbi, I don't understand why you stay?”

  “This sickness, Lazarus's illness, will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's son may be glorified through it.”

  “Then you risk him dying.”

  “I do. I love that family, but I must remain here.”

  The young rabbi stood and brushed off his robe. Jesus and John stood with him and they embraced.

  “Jesus, I trust you know what God wants here. I admit I am at a loss. I pray that you find a reason to join us in Bethany before it is too late.”

  Jesus nodded. “I will pray here for him. You are free to stay the night to rest.”

  “No, I will rush back to tend to the family and pass them your response.”

  The young rabbi walked out of the tent. His face let through some of the anger that raged deep inside. He knew that he dared not share that with The Teacher and quickly rushed out of the camp and set down the path towards Jerusalem. A light dust kicked up from behind the donkey as he swayed gently. His lips mumbled a soft prayer to God imploring him to send Jesus. His prayers melted into the sounds of the insects chirping in the underbrush.

  Two days passed and a warm heat descended on the valley. The disciples sat quietly in the shade of the olive trees and fanned themselves with woven palm leaves. Sweat piled on their brows and they pulled against their open robes looking for any relief in the heat. On the horizon, tall blue-gray clouds built in the sky and plunged into the brown hillscape creating a shadowy silhouette.

  Jesus lifted his head when he heard the first distant rumbles of thunder. John saw the concern on the Rabbi's face and asked him, “What’s wrong?”

  Jesus pressed a breath slowly through his nose. “I believe it’s time.”

  “For what?”

  “It is time for us to go back to Judea.”

  “Lazarus?”

  “Yes.”

  The other disciples around Jesus lifted their heads.

  Matthew said, “But Rabbi, a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you, and you are going back?”

  Jesus looked at him. “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Anyone who walks in the daytime will not stumble, for they see the world's light. It’s when a person walks at night that they stumble, for they have no light.”

  Matthew nodded and his eyes dropped to the palm frond in his hand. His fingers folded the green leaf as Jesus's words sank into his soul.

  “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep. But I am going there to wake him up.”

  John spoke up. “Lord if he sleeps, he will get better.”

  Jesus could feel Lazarus's soul slipping from the physical world. It was as if Jesus were dipped into a cold bath. His skin tightened and flexed as images of Lazarus flooded the Rabbi's mind.

  Jesus looked at the disciples around him. “He is not sleeping. Our brother Lazarus is dead, and for your sake, I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. Let us go to him now.”

  Thomas stood. “We will break down the camp and ready the donkeys.” He addressed the group. “Brothers, let’s go now, so that we may die with him.”

  Pass Through

  The caravan of donkeys crested the hill and looked down onto the dry valley below. Dim oil lights could be seen along the merchant road as traders moved their products into the dark city.

  Jesus leads the group down into the valley and east towards Bethany.

  He looked to Thomas and John. “When we get to Bethany I want to set up camp outside of town and I want to be quiet about our presence at least until noon. John, you and I will see to Lazarus's tomb.”

  “Yes, Rabbi, whatever you need.”

  It was an early morning and the blue haze lifted along the horizon when the disciples set camp. They took down their simple provisions and set up their tents. They all moved quietly and with purpose.

  Thomas lead the group. “Men, we will rest for the day and leave Jesus to pray with John. It has been a long night so we will keep our presence quiet for the day.”

  Jesus said, “Thank you, Thomas. I trust the camp will be perfect. John and I will be back within the day.”

  “Please rest if you can,” Thomas implored.

  “Bless you, my child, I will.” Jesus knew what was coming. There would be no time for rest.

  John pulled a small cloth bag over his shoulder. “I am ready Rabbi.”

  “Then we go to his tomb. It’s on the Mount.”

  John and Jesus silently crossed through the empty olive groves that covered the mountain. They passed through crisscrossed trails and walking paths and made their way to the stone tomb. Jesus and John could hear talking off in the distance towards the small city.

  Jesus leaned into John. “I am sure many have come to mourn his passing.”

  “Likely from Jerusalem,” John added.

  “I believe so.”

  The tomb was a stone facade packed into the side of a dirt mound. Flowers littered the ground in front of the stone door and gave the surrounding area a sweet smell. Just the thought of what waited beyond the tomb made John nervous.

  Jesus leaned into the door. “Help me, John.”

  Their arms flexed and their fingertips turned white as they pressed against the chalky stone door. The rock popped its seal and the ground along the dirt floor pulled back from the stone archway. The rush of decay stormed out of the vault and struck them in the face. Jesus turned slightly and stepped into the blackness. John looked back and then followed him in, clutching his supply bag.

  The air was cool and a chill crawled down Jesus's back.

  “John, please light an oil lamp. I don't want to trip over him.” />
  John struck a small fire and the dim oil lamp illuminated the area around them. The room inside the tomb was sparse. The stone quickly gave way to sod-lined walls that rose over their heads and died into the hillside.

  John remarked, “It must have taken half the town to construct this so fast.”

  “I think he’s been dead a few days. It looks like they just buried him today.”

  Jesus reached out with his hand and felt over the ground ahead of the dim light. His fingers danced over the ground and he struck loose fabric. It was the end of a thin cloth wrap. His fingers closed on the fabric and pulled up. The slack fell out and the linen went taut. His hands reached out and Jesus made contact with Lazarus's foot. The fabric tightly covered his legs and face. Jesus touched spongy flesh bloated with death. It squished under his fingers.

  “John he’s here.”

  He quickly rushed around Jesus and cast the light over Lazarus's tomb. Lazarus was tucked into a small corner and around his body were wooden boxes filled with herbs and dried fruits. Bottles of wine were stacked next to his head and blankets were piled along the far wall.

  John nearly lost his breath at the sight. His eyes misted and his voice cracked. “Lord have mercy on his soul. Our dear friend.”

  Jesus heard the strain in his friend's voice. “We will bring him back my brother. He will walk amongst the flowers again and will kiss the dew off the grass.”

  Tears streamed down John's cheeks. “How? He is lost.”

  “We will get him back. Set up for a normal ceremony and I will prepare myself.”

  “My Lord how?”

  “You must believe me, child. A lamb knows not why a shepherd protects the flock, but only trusts that he will be safe from harm.”

  “But we could have left earlier.”

  Jesus's eyes burned as he stared into John's face. The lamp shook in the disciple’s hand and he could feel a pressure against his chest as if Jesus were pressing down on him.

  “John, we will wake him up. Please prepare the area.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” He sniffed and regained his composure.

  John pulled the materials out of his bag and began to set up the séance circle. Additional lamps were lit and more light filled the darkened tomb. Along the wall, Jesus pulled his robes free and dressed down to a small loincloth. His body arched, stretching out the stiffness that built over the long journey. He kneeled to pray, bobbing back and forth against the dark night. His eyes were closed as his lips moved quickly, dispersing prayers into the damp air.

  John touched Jesus's shoulder. “My Lord we are ready.”

  Jesus took a deep breath. “So am I.”

  He walked to Lazarus's body and kneeled down and touched the bound wraps. “John, when I leave you to need to watch over the tomb. Make sure no one comes in while I am gone.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  Jesus leaned back and pulled out a long knife from the bag. He quickly drove the blade into the chest of Lazarus. There was a snapping and crunching as bone broke under the impact. A thick smell of decaying flesh rose up from the wound. Jesus pulled down on the man's belly and opened his insides. Small amounts of fluid sprayed over the ground. Jesus continued to saw across Lazarus's dead body until he struck the pelvic bone and stopped. The blade was covered in a thick black oozing liquid that dripped out over the linens.

  John's hand covered his face as he fought back the urge to vomit. Jesus was unfazed by the gore. He unfurled a linen pouch and dropped a white powder into the open belly. He broke off stems of dried herbs and dropped them into the black hole.

  “John I need a flame.” John tore a small piece of linen and lit the fabric using the oil lamp. Jesus took the burning cloth. “Now cover your eyes.”

  Jesus leaned in and lowered the burning linen to Lazarus's belly. The fire ignited an explosion and flames touched the ceiling, scorching the roots hanging from the stacked sod. In the center of Lazarus's belly burned a green fire. It was a cool flame leaving the linens untouched.

  Jesus turned to John. “The fire will burn until I get back, protect the tomb.”

  John nodded. He struggled against the burning horror in the center of the tomb.

  Jesus stood over the flame and pulled up against his loincloth. He lowered the blade into the sheath and placed it in his waistband. The fire kissed his inner thigh but Jesus showed no reaction. He took a deep breath and lowered his foot into Lazarus's burning stomach. His body slowly lowered into the opening and it pressed. against his frame. Jesus stepped with his other foot and pressed down with his arms, slowly lowering himself like stairs descending into a hidden opening. His curled brown hair slowly disappeared into the flames.

  John sat dumbfounded, still shocked from seeing his Teacher crawl into a dead corpse. Hours passed as John hypnotically watched the flames dance. He passed the time saying short prayers for Jesus, begging him to return safely. Eventually, John's exhaustion took over and he slumped to the ground. His heavy breathing lifted plumes of dust into the air. The dust slowly swirled and danced before reaching the flames where it was taken by a hidden draft and pulled into the open cavity.

  John was startled awake when a hand squeezed his shoulder. He reached out to protect himself. “Who is it?”

  It was a warm and familiar voice. “Light a fresh lamp.”

  “Jesus, you're back.”

  “I am.”

  “I prayed for your return.”

  “I know, I heard them.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes my child. I heard them.”

  John leaned forward and touched his master's feet. He looked up to the darkened face and asked, “And… Lazarus?”

  “Light the lamp and I will show you my glory.”

  Jesus Wept

  The morning light touched the ground at Jesus's feet. John clutched the bag close to his chest and stared at the stone doorway. His voice was still shaken. “I… I don't know how.”

  Jesus answered continuing down the path. “Have faith, John. Trust me.”

  “I do with all my heart. I just…thought it wasn't possible.”

  “Not for you.

  John nodded and continued down the path behind Jesus. They broke through the tree line and into the clearing where the disciples made camp. The tents were quiet as John and Jesus made their way through.

  Jesus turned to John. “Get what rest you can. We will be going to town today.”

  “Yes, my Rabbi.”

  Jesus broke off to his tent leaving John standing in the open clearing alone. He nervously looked about the campsite for any soul that might comfort him. There were none and he made his way to bed. He slipped into the tent and startled Bartholomew awake.

  “John, where have you been?”

  “With Jesus.”

  “Doing what?”

  “He was…well he was concerned and wanted to see the tomb.”

  “You were at the tomb all night?”

  “I was just helping Jesus with what he needed.”

  “Have you slept? You need a drink, you look weary.”

  John sipped the wine and laid down on his straw bedding. His arms were still wrapped around the bag. “Thank you, I needed that.”

  “Are you going to put that bag down?”

  “Of course, of course.” He carefully pushed the bag into the corner of the bed and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders.

  “Get some rest, John. We will be going to see the family today.”

  “I know. I will. Thank you, Bartholomew.”

  John rolled onto his back and gazed up at the tent ceiling, focusing on the intricate folds and creases in the fabric. It reminded him of linens wrapped around Lazarus's feet. He could see his body, the deep cut Jesus made across his abdomen was gone, and he slept on the ground. He was alive and breathing gently. He had been dead hours before, but he lay there alive and Jesus sat next to him, his head in his hands as he recovered from the journey he took.

  It felt like a minute had passed be
fore a firm hand grasped John's leg and he was startled awake. He had been asleep for a few hours.

  Bartholomew's face stared down. “We are all getting ready to leave. I let you sleep, but we need to go.”

  John nodded and lifted off the straw bed and exited the tent. All of the disciples gathered in the clearing and surrounded Jesus.

  Jesus spoke. “John, good morning. I hope you slept well.”

  John smiled. “I did.”

  “We will be heading into Bethany. We will be going to see Lazarus's family, but it will be important for us to keep our eyes open for any trouble.”

  John noticed Jesus thumbing a small locket around his neck. It was the first time he had seen him with any jewelry. It was a woven reed loop that held a small locket. Jesus saw John staring and he quickly dropped his hands to his side.

  “Let's go my friends.”

  They formed a long line and disappeared, walking the worn path towards Bethany. It took them nearly an hour before they reached the town. The sight of the Rabbi and his disciples sent whispers through the crowd of early-morning merchants. They could hear the whispers of Jesus floating through the air.

  The disciples reached the entrance of Lazarus's home and they could hear a commotion beyond the clay walls. There were many visitors from Jerusalem still mourning his death. The front door swung open and Martha stood in the door frame with her hands pressed against her hips. Her face was full of pain and her eyes puffy from mourning.

  She quickly closed the door and walked up to Jesus.

  “My Lord, you are late.” The words stung Jesus. “If you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

  “Martha, I know you are upset, but your brother will rise again.”

  “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day. But it is folly to think he will be here with us, walking amongst his family and loved ones. He was taken from us and you could have stopped that. But you didn't.”

  “Martha. I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even though they die. Whoever lives by believing in me will never die.”