As they gathered around the fire for yet another ample breakfast, thanks to Zacchaeus, the group was strangely quiet. Was this the day they would finally move on? Was Jesus going up to Jerusalem after all, or had the reports about the dangers there finally changed his mind? No one knew, but neither did anyone dare to ask him about it. They kept stealing surreptitious looks in his direction, dropping their eyes quickly if his head turned in their direction.
It was only when the women and older girls began cleaning up the meal that Jesus stood. He looked around, then stopped when his gaze reached Peter. “Let us go up to Jerusalem again,” he said.
Several stiffened. Then one of them blurted out, “Master, the Jews tried to stone you the last time we were in Jerusalem, and you want to go there again?”
“Are there not twelve hours in a day?” Jesus asked calmly.
The disciples weren’t quite sure what to make of that question and just stood there.
“If any man walk in the day, he will not stumble, because he sees the light of the world. But if he walks in the night, he will stumble, because there is no light.” Jesus smiled briefly, looking around at the disciples. “Our friend Lazarus sleeps,” he said. “I go to him that I may awake him from his sleep.”
Matthew stepped forward, clearly relieved. “If he sleeps, then it shall be well with him.”
Jesus turned to the publican, who was one of the older men of the Twelve. “Lazarus is dead,” he said bluntly.
Matthew rocked back as the shock hit him and all who had heard what Jesus said.
“Dead?” Peter echoed.
Jesus nodded. “I am glad for your sakes that I was not there. This way you may believe.”
Peter did not answer. No one else spoke either. Miriam felt a sense of horror. So Lazarus had not gotten better? He was dead?
Jesus spoke to Peter again. “But even though he is dead, let us go to him nevertheless.”
Jesus waited for a moment, but when no one said anything more, he left the group and moved to where his bedroll was laid out on the ground. He knelt down and began to fold his blankets.
Chapter Notes
It is John who records the sending of a messenger from Martha’s household with the report that her brother, Lazarus, was seriously ill (John 11:3). The details of the Savior’s lingering for two more days, including his clear declaration that Lazarus was dead, are all part of John’s account (John 11:6–16).
Chapter 20
I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.
—John 11:25
I
On the road to Bethany 21–22 March, a.d. 33
Even after making the shocking declaration that Lazarus had died, Jesus seemed in no great hurry to leave. Though she said nothing to anyone in the family, Livia was greatly disturbed. She knew, with a pain that was still keen and fresh, what it meant to lose a loved one. And while nothing could make that pain go away, she had also learned what it meant to have those you loved and trusted come forward and put their arms around you. It didn’t bring the lost one back, but sharing grief lessened grief. To have people lend their strength when there was none left inside of her had become an important part of her healing process. Livia ached for Martha and Mary. True, Lazarus was not a husband, but she knew how she would feel if it had been Drusus who had died. They needed Jesus now. They needed the comfort and assurance that only he could bring to them. And yet he tarried.
It took a good part of the morning to pack up the camp and get started. As they made their way through Jericho, once again the throngs pressed in, and it took them another two or three hours to complete their journey through the city.
By the time they were out of the city, the sun was halfway down in its western descent. Peter recommended that they camp in the lowlands for the night rather than travel the dangerous narrow canyons in the dark, risking serious falls or attack from bandits. Livia overheard Peter’s suggestion and fully expected Jesus to say no, that they had to make haste now that Lazarus was dead. But he didn’t. He accepted Peter’s suggestion with a nod of his head, and they bedded down less than a mile from where the road began its climb to Jerusalem.
Again, come morning, Jesus showed no signs of urgency. They ate a leisurely breakfast, and by the time they rolled up their beds and started off again, the sun was high. Livia was more and more saddened by the pace of the journey, and she began to withdraw into herself. She felt guilty for harboring feelings critical of Jesus’ decisions, and yet she could not understand why he couldn’t sense the needs of those two grieving sisters.
But it was more than just that. There were other troubling things about this situation. Why had Jesus said Lazarus was only sleeping if he knew he was dying? True, it was common to refer to death as “sleeping in the grave,” but the way Jesus had said it had implied that Lazarus was resting because of the sickness. And what of his comment about this being for God’s glory? What did that mean? Especially now that Lazarus was dead. Did a man’s death bring glory to God? That thought really stabbed at her heart. She still struggled with one simple but devastating word that rose again and again in her mind. Why? Was Yehuda’s death in the inner temple courts God’s will or just the blind and terrible finger of fate? He was a good man. He honored her choice to follow Jesus. Why hadn’t God intervened to save her husband? Why? Why? Why?
The persisting relaxed pace brought the questions surging back with renewed vigor. Livia didn’t know exactly how Jesus knew Lazarus was dead, but she did not doubt that he spoke the truth. Did he feel it was too late, eliminating the need for haste? Or was he reluctant to face those who grieved, because of his great love for the family? Speaking of grieving, it seemed odd to her that Jesus showed no signs of grief himself. He was mostly quiet as they marched along, speaking only occasionally to those walking beside him, but he did not seem downcast or morose. He was just pensive, far away in his thoughts.
Livia said none of this to Miriam, or to Simeon and his family. They all had concerns of their own. And the men of the company were focused on another, more serious problem. What was going to happen when the Sanhedrin found out Jesus was coming? How could they make sure Jesus was protected without having him feel they were interfering with his ministry?
She sighed deeply and trudged on, her head down. Perhaps her feelings were heightened because she was tired. What had once been a strenuous but achievable journey was much complicated by the child she carried inside her. She knew that she tired more quickly than before, which was true emotionally as well as physically. There was only one thing to do with all of this, she decided, and that was to push it out of her mind and wait to see what happened. Her lips pulled down. As if it were that simple.
II
Bethany 23 March, a.d. 33
Bethany was on the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives. It was roughly a two-mile walk from there to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem—a steep climb to the top of the Mount of Olives, and then a steeper descent to the Kidron Valley, then up again into the city.
Jerusalem was at the top of the hill country of Judea. The higher elevations tended to scrub the moisture from the clouds coming off the Mediterranean Sea, leaving little for the deserts that lay beyond. The Mount of Olives was the easternmost and highest of the ridges, and its eastern slopes took the last of the rains. The village of Bethany was a fertile splash of green on the edge of a vast expanse of browns and greys. Flat-roofed stone houses were scattered about on the hillside, almost hidden by small groves of fig and olive trees. Here and there were neat rows of lighter green, signifying grape vineyards just coming fully into leaf.
By the time Jesus and his followers approached the outskirts of the village, it was nearing the ninth hour of the day. The afternoon sun was hot and shining directly into their eyes. Simeon and Miriam were walking beside Livia, somehow seeming to sense her inner turmoil, though so far they had not spoken of it. She knew that Simeon kept glancing at her out of the corner of his
eye, and she was afraid that he would either ask her what was on her mind or how she was doing physically. She didn’t feel like answering either question.
Just then they heard a shout up ahead of them, and their heads lifted. The first of the villagers, mostly young boys and girls, were coming headlong down the hill towards them, waving their hands and shouting joyfully.
Here we go, Livia thought. Now we shall see.
The shouts brought others out too. People were streaming into the main road. In a village the size of Bethany, word spread quickly, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, through the markets, over the stone fences that marked people’s property. By the time the travelers actually reached the village, Jesus was surrounded again. He greeted the children with smiles and extended hands, ruffling hair, lifting one of the younger ones into his arms. As the first adult reached them, a man in his early forties, Peter stepped forward quickly. “What news of Lazarus?” he asked.
The man’s expression changed from joy to sorrow. “Ah, a tragedy. Poor Martha and Mary.”
“Is he dead then?” Peter persisted.
Jesus shot him a look, but the man didn’t notice. “Aye,” came the reply. “He’s been in the tomb four days now.”
All around there was a stunned silence. Four days!
Livia calculated quickly. They had been two full days on the road, and they had lingered two full days in Jericho after the messenger had come with news of Lazarus.
Livia turned to see if Jesus had heard. He had. He was watching Peter and the man with an expression that was difficult to read.
“Deborah!”
Simeon turned in surprise. Coming down the hill, skirts clutched in one hand, was Simeon’s Uncle Aaron. Leah, Deborah, and David moved up beside Simeon and Miriam. Deborah called out and began to wave.
Livia knew she ought to join them, to extend her greetings too, but she didn’t feel like it.
Aaron slowed his pace at the sight of Jesus. He was puffing hard, and perspiration formed a sheen on his forehead. Jesus nodded as Aaron started to move around him to get to his sister. “Shalom, Aaron of Sepphoris.”
Startled, Aaron nodded back. “Shalom, Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Deborah told me of your message,” Jesus said. “I thank you for your concern, and for taking the trouble to come to Jericho.”
Aaron wiped his brow with his sleeve, then blurted out, “Things haven’t changed, Jesus. There is danger waiting in Jerusalem.”
“Thank you for the warning.” Then the crowd, which was swelling with every passing moment, moved between them.
Aaron went to his sister. “We need to talk,” he said bluntly.
David motioned them to the side of the road away from where Jesus was standing. They would not be alone, but they would be apart from the heaviest concentration of people. The entire family moved over with Aaron except for Livia, though she was close enough to hear their conversation.
“Did you stress to Jesus how serious things are in the Great Council?” Aaron demanded.
“We did,” Deborah replied.
He half turned. “Then why—”
“Jesus does what he feels he has to do,” Simeon came in. “He knows of the danger, but that doesn’t alter what he feels he needs to do.”
“Right now, he’s come because of Lazarus,” Deborah explained.
“Yes, we heard.”
“We?” Miriam echoed.
“The Sanhedrin. There are two of us from the council in the village. We’ve been here since late yesterday.”
“To do what?” Deborah asked sharply.
“To learn of his whereabouts, mostly.” He looked around quickly, suddenly nervous. “To report back to the council.” His hand shot out, and he gripped Deborah’s arm. “If Jesus comes to Jerusalem for Passover,” he said urgently, “you have to stay away from him. If trouble breaks out, it could engulf those around him.”
Deborah was shaking her head. “Aaron, we can’t do that. I—”
Just then there was a change in the sound of the crowd. A cry went up. They all turned to see what it was. A small group was coming down the hill at a swift walk. In the lead was a woman.
“It’s Martha!” Leah exclaimed.
Aaron barely glanced in that direction. “I have to get back to my associate,” he hissed. “Please, Deborah! If he does go to Jerusalem, stay clear of him. Especially when he’s on the Temple Mount.”
Before she could answer, he whirled and started back up the hill, pushing his way through the people until he disappeared.
David and his family moved back over to Jesus so they could watch the interchange that was about to take place. Martha was close enough that they could see that her eyes were swollen and her cheeks tear stained. The villagers fell back to make a path for her, and a hush quickly fell over those assembled.
Jesus watched the oncoming woman. When she reached him, his eyes softened, and he stretched out both hands to her.
A sob wrenched from her throat as she took his hands. “Oh, Lord,” she cried, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Several looked surprised at that. Was Martha criticizing Jesus for not coming sooner? Livia didn’t think so. It was a cry torn from a grief-stricken heart, and at the same time an affirmation of her faith in the Master.
As if to prove Livia’s conclusion, Martha added, “But I know, that even now, whatsoever you will ask of God, God will give it to thee.”
“Where is Mary?”
“When I heard that you were coming, I came to meet you,” Martha answered, “but Mary remained at the house.” She swallowed quickly. “She misses him so,” she whispered. “She still grieves deeply.”
Jesus squeezed her hands, deeply solemn. “Your brother Lazarus shall rise again, Martha.”
She sniffed back tears, fighting for composure. “Yea, Lord, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”
Jesus leaned forward slightly, peering into her eyes. “I am the resurrection and the life. He that believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die.” He let those words sink in, then asked, “Can you believe this?”
Martha straightened, her shoulders pulling back. She wiped quickly at the tears. “Yea, Lord. I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, who should come into the world.”
Livia felt a surge of shame. Was that how she would have answered that query? In her grieving, had she forgotten for the moment who Jesus was and, more importantly, what he was?
Jesus looked as if he were close to tears himself. He squeezed Martha’s hands again, then stepped back. “Tell Mary we are coming.”
“Thank you, Lord.” And without another word, Martha turned and hurried back up the hill to take word to her sister.
III
Though Mary was in a back room reclining on her bed, at the sound of the front door opening and closing, she sat up. She could hear her sister’s footsteps on the stone floor and got to her feet, pushing back her hair and wiping at her eyes.
A moment later, Martha appeared at the door. “Is he . . . ?” Mary started, but she couldn’t finish.
Martha nodded joyfully. “Yes. The Master is come. And he calls for you, Mary.”
“Where?”
“He has just entered the village. Come quickly. We must go to him.”
When Martha and Mary passed through the courtyard of their home a few moments later, it was filled with people. More were coming all the time. Word had spread that Jesus had come to see the two sisters. People were talking in low tones to each other. The sight of the two grieving sisters had tempered the mood of the crowd. Martha’s hasty departure and then return a few minutes before had them watching intently. She had pushed past them without an explanation.
Now, as the two sisters did the same again, pushing through the crowd without answering their questions, the somber mood deepened. “They go to the tomb,” one woman whispered.
“That
is good,” said another. “Mary needs to let her grief come out.”
“Let us go with them,” a man suggested, “so that we may comfort them.”
To Martha’s surprise, Jesus was still in roughly the same place where she had met him earlier. The crowd, now swelled to well over a hundred, pressed in around him, impeding his progress. But when the people saw Mary and Martha approaching, they moved back to make way, falling silent so they could overhear.
When they were just a few feet away from Jesus, Martha stopped, motioning her sister to go forward.
Mary was weeping openly at the sight of Jesus. She came forward slowly, then dropped to her knees before him. Her whole body was trembling. Finally she looked up. Two glistening streaks ran down her cheeks. Though she had no way of knowing what Martha had said when she met Jesus, Mary used exactly the same words as her sister had done: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have not died.”
All around, the sound of weeping could now be heard. The sight of these two beloved sisters—so honored and revered in the village—stricken with grief, was too much for others, too. The women of the village and the women who had journeyed with Jesus wept together.
Jesus looked down on Mary for a moment, then gently lifted her up. He looked around at the crowd. Several men looked as if they were on the verge of tears as well. He started to say something, but the words choked in his throat. He groaned, and it was a sound of such pain, such anguish, that the women began to weep more copiously.
“Where have you laid him?” Jesus finally asked, speaking to Mary and Martha.
Martha half turned and pointed up the hill. “Lord, come and see,” she managed.
As Jesus turned, Livia was astonished to see that his cheeks were wet too. Jesus was weeping, something she had never before seen. And that opened the wells deep within Livia’s heart. It had been months since she had been able to cry. She had decided that tears did nothing for her but leave her weak and exhausted. But she could not have stopped them now if she had wished to.
Fishers of Men Page 149