Jesus motioned for the two sisters to lead out and take him to the grave site.
Livia almost bumped into Miriam as she turned to follow. Miriam looked at her and wept all the more. “Oh, Livia,” she said softly, “oh, how Jesus loved Lazarus.”
IV
There were two common forms of burial prevalent among the Jews. Which form was used depended largely on the economic class of the individual who had died. The poor were buried in graves, usually in small cemeteries just outside their villages. For families with greater means, tombs were used as the final resting place. Some tombs were made out of natural caves; others were carved into the numerous outcroppings of soft limestone common to Judea. Sometimes these tombs were large enough to accommodate several family members; sometimes they were just big enough to hold one body. Once burial was complete, the tomb was sealed, generally with a large, flat stone. A stone track was often carved at the base of the opening. In these cases, the flat stone was shaped like a wheel and, once placed in the track, could be rolled back and forth to open or shut the tomb. This was the case with the tomb of Lazarus. The tomb site was near the road and not far above where Mary and Martha lived.
Preparation of the body was essentially the same for all the dead, except that the upper classes used expensive ointments and perfumes as part of the preparation. The body was laid out on a table, with the hands to the side. The dead, except for the very poorest, were then anointed with various spices and ointments. Substantial sums of money were spent by the wealthy on these preparations. Next, a cloth or napkin was laid over the face. Then the entire body was wrapped—or more aptly, bound—by a long, wide strip of linen. Generally, this took at least two people, for one had to lift various portions of the body enough for the linen to be passed underneath. The end result was much like the mummification of the Pharaohs in Egypt, though not nearly so elaborate.
Occasionally, the body was then placed in a simple wooden coffin and buried in a grave. But in a land where wood was scarce and therefore expensive, the most common practice was to use a bier to transport the body to the place of burial. The bier was nothing more than a wooden pallet with handles on its four corners, much like a litter. The body, bound tightly in its linen wrappings, would be placed on the bier, then lifted by four men who were either family members or close friends, and taken off to be buried.
At the first word of someone’s passing, the family or closest neighbors began the death wail. A shrill, ear-piercing shriek, it was the community’s way of spreading the word that someone had died. This was also accompanied by a mournful wailing. Common expressions in the lamentation included such phrases as, “Alas, my brother!” or “O my son, my son!” These were repeated over and over in a singsong fashion. Some individuals perfected this lament to the point of an art and became professional mourners. Even poor families often hired these people to mourn the loss of a loved one until the body was finally buried.
All these customs were four days in the past in the case of Lazarus. The bier had long since been removed. The mourners were no longer present to fill their role. Instead, there was a quiet, reverential hush from the villagers as Jesus and those with him followed Mary and Martha to the tomb site. Jesus wanted to see where his friend was laid, and the people wanted to honor his time to grieve.
The tomb was set back from the road half a dozen paces. Judging from the size of the sealing stone, the opening into the final resting place was not much taller than Livia or Miriam. Small clay pots filled with flowers and small boughs of evergreens lined the ground on both sides of the stone.
Martha stopped directly in front of the tomb. She turned to Jesus. A strangled sob shook her body, and she averted her face. “That is where my brother was laid,” she whispered hoarsely. Mary moved up beside her, and again both women began to weep.
Jesus took several steps forward, looking carefully at the tomb and its sealing stone. Then he turned back. “Martha?”
She fought her emotions for a moment, then looked at Jesus. “Yes, Lord?”
“Have them take away the stone.”
Martha stiffened. The reaction from the crowd was a collective gasp. Mary’s face had a look of horror. Martha’s went completely pale. “But, Lord,” she cried, “he has been dead four days.”
Jesus said nothing, just waited, as if what she had said was not in any way relevant to his request.
She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “Lord, by this time he will have started to stink.”
When Jesus still said nothing, just watched her steadily, she said again, “It has been four days.”
Jesus moved to the two women. He reached out and took Martha by both shoulders. “Did I not say unto you,” he said in a low, but clear, voice, “that if you would believe, you should see the glory of God?”
For what seemed like an eternity, Martha stared at him. Then, finally, her head moved up and down. “Yea, Lord.”
Jesus stepped back, turning toward the tomb again. The people had gone utterly silent, shock registering on their faces. This was unthinkable. Under the Mosaic Law, to come in contact with the dead was to bring upon oneself spiritual contamination. The Pharisees held that even being this close to a burial site was enough to require extensive ablution. And now he wanted to open the tomb?
Livia felt someone at her side and turned to see that Leah had joined her. They looked at each other, dismay and consternation clearly written on their faces. Did Jesus want to actually see the body so that he would know for himself that Lazarus was truly dead? How bizarre! Something was terribly wrong here.
And then Livia heard Deborah give a low cry. She turned and saw why. On the opposite edge of the crowd, Aaron was standing with another man. There was a curious mixture of revulsion, horror, and wonder on his face. He was not looking in their direction and did not see them.
Then, before Livia could process what Aaron must be thinking, she saw Martha step back from Jesus’ grasp. Still looking bewildered and confused, Martha turned to the nearest man. Livia saw that it was Micah, the neighbor who had brought word of Lazarus’s illness to Jericho. Martha motioned for him to roll back the sealing stone.
For a moment, Micah just gaped at her.
“Do it,” she commanded. “Do as Jesus says.”
“No, Martha!” The cry came from someone in the crowd. “Don’t do this.”
“Open it!” she commanded, more firmly. Beside her, Mary was nodding.
Micah jumped forward until he stood directly in front of the round stone. He reached up, took the top of it with both hands, and leaned into it. It didn’t budge. Two other men moved forward to join him. They threw their shoulders against the stone’s edge. There was the soft rumble of stone on stone, and the seal slowly began to roll. In a moment, it was fully moved to one side, revealing the blackness of the tomb’s interior.
The entrance was low and narrow, even smaller than Livia had guessed. It was also narrow enough that a full-grown man would have to turn his body slightly sideways to enter.
Micah stepped away, looking to Martha for further instructions. She motioned him back. Jesus nodded at Martha. As Livia watched what passed between them, she sensed that Jesus was acknowledging that her obedience had taken great faith in him and that he was grateful for her trust. Then he looked at Mary, smiled briefly, letting her know it was all right. Finally, with slow deliberation, he walked to the tomb’s entrance. He didn’t go in but stopped about three paces back from the opening.
For several seconds, he stood there; then slowly his head tipped back, and he looked heavenward. “Father,” he said in a voice firm enough for all around to hear him clearly, “I thank thee that thou hast heard me.” He paused. “I know that thou hearest me always. But I say this because of the people who stand by here. I say it that they may believe that thou hast sent me.”
And then his voice shouted out so sharply that everyone jumped. “Lazarus! Come forth!”
There was not a sound. Every eye was locked on that d
ark opening. No one breathed. Without realizing it, Livia had grabbed Leah’s arm, her fingers digging into the flesh. Leah was barely aware of it. Miriam moved closer to Simeon. Deborah had taken David’s hand.
For a long, tense moment, nothing happened. The sun was low in the sky and at a vertical angle to the tomb’s opening, so that it illuminated nothing inside. And then there was a low, almost imperceptible whisper of sound from inside the tomb. Livia drew in her breath sharply. Chills coursed through her body. For a moment, she thought her knees were going to buckle, and she clung to Leah desperately.
The gasps of astonishment were like a series of soft explosions all around them. There was movement in the darkness. Something white and tall was there, just inside the tomb’s opening. And then, like a mighty blast of wind had struck them, the half circle of watchers staggered backwards. A figure appeared in the opening, paused for a moment, then shuffled out into the bright sunlight. The figure was totally wrapped in white and without specific form. The arms were bound tightly to its side. The legs and feet could only move a few inches at a time. The face was wrapped as well, but the contours of nose, mouth, and chin were clearly evident.
Somewhere to their left, a woman gave a low cry and sank to the ground. Another exclamation was cut off as abruptly as it had started. Behind them someone began to weep in sheer terror. Livia felt suddenly dizzy herself. Her eyes stared but could not comprehend. There before them, standing erect and tall in the full light of day, was a dead man, bound hand and foot with grave clothes. But he was not dead! He was alive. Moving. Waiting for someone to help him.
Seemingly unaware of the reaction around him, Jesus turned to the men who had rolled back the stone. Their faces were white as they stared at the figure before them. “Loose him,” Jesus said quietly, “and let him go.”
V
Deborah and David found Aaron seated on a rock wall about fifty paces from the tomb. There were people all around him, but he was unaware of them. His head was in his hands, and he was staring at the ground. Jesus was gone, though no one seemed to see him leave. Once Lazarus had been freed, the people watched his tender reunion with two women stunned and breathless with joy. A short time later the sisters had left to take Lazarus back to his home. Only the Twelve went with them.
Not many others had left, though it had been several minutes since Jesus had disappeared. They stood in small clusters, talking quietly. Some, like Aaron, were by themselves, still trying to comprehend what they had just witnessed. There was no sign of the other man who had come with Aaron to learn more of Jesus’ whereabouts.
“Aaron?”
For a moment he didn’t move; then his head slowly raised.
Deborah sat down beside him. “Are you all right?”
He stared at her as if she were a stranger. He lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes. “Did you . . . ?” he began, but then shook his head. His eyes were haunted. His mouth worked silently in the depths of his beard.
David squatted down directly in front of him. “Yes, Aaron, we were here. We saw what you saw.” And then, very gently, he asked, “Now what say you about this man we call the Christ? Is he the Messiah or no?”
Finally, Aaron’s eyes registered on David. For a moment, David wasn’t sure if he was going to bolt and run or start to weep. After a long moment, Aaron slowly shook his head. “I can deny it no longer,” he whispered. He reached up and began to rub at his eyes. “Four days,” he said, speaking to himself. “Four days!”
Deborah hesitated for a moment, debating whether she should say what she felt had to be said. He was still so dazed. But then she couldn’t hold back. “He is more than just the Messiah,” she said softly. “He is the Son of God, Aaron.”
He turned to face her. “I don’t understand. We are all the sons of God.”
“No, Aaron. He is literally the Son of God. Mary is his mother, but God is his Father. Remember what Isaiah said? ‘A virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel.’” She paused for a moment, then with deep reverence added, “You know as well as I do what that name means: God is with us.”
She stopped, because Aaron’s eyes were suddenly filled with tears.
“What?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said in wonder. “That would explain it. The Son of God. That would explain it all.”
Deborah gave a low cry and threw her arms around him. A cry of joy and pain rose up from deep within him as he embraced her. “Oh, Deborah,” he finally said in a strangled voice. “What shall I do now?”
VI
Beneath a large pomegranate tree, Livia also sat alone. She stared at the ground, seeing nothing.
“Livia?”
She didn’t raise her head as Miriam sat down beside her.
“Are you all right?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. How could she put into words what was in her heart at that moment?
“It’s Yehuda, isn’t it,” Miriam declared.
Finally Livia’s head came up. “If Jesus had been on the Temple Mount that day, he . . .” Her lips started to tremble, and she had to look away again.
Miriam sat down beside her and put an arm around her. “Yehuda still lives, Livia. You know that. You will see him again in the resurrection.”
“I need him now,” she said, her voice so low Miriam could barely hear her.
“I know, I know. But you heard what Jesus said. He is the resurrection and the life. If we but believe in him, then we all shall live again. You do believe that, don’t you?”
There was no answer for a long time, and Miriam felt herself go cold. “Livia, you have to believe. Think of what we just saw. Jesus raised a man from the tomb. He raised the dead, Livia! Think about it! Doesn’t that fill you with hope?”
She shook her head. “I’m so tired, Miriam. I miss him so.”
“As you should.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. All I know is that if Jesus could have been there that day, Yehuda would still be alive. Or even if Jesus had called Yehuda forth from the dead four days later!” Then she forced a smile. It was thin and held no cheer of any kind. “I’ll be all right. Go be with your family. I’ll just wait here.”
“You have to believe, Livia,” Miriam cried. “You have to believe that Jesus can make everything right.”
“Oh, but I do, Miriam. You see, that is my problem. If he can, as I know he can, then why didn’t he do it for me as he did for Mary and Martha?”
Chapter Notes
The story of the raising of Lazarus, one of the most remarkable evidences of Jesus’ power, is recorded in John’s Gospel (John 11:1–45).
The burial customs and practices associated with death are taken from numerous scriptural references. Many of these customs can still be seen among the peoples of the Middle East today (see Wight, pp. 142–46).
Chapter 21
Laws are like spiders’ webs: if some poor weak creature come up against them, it is caught; but a bigger one can break through and get away.
—Solon, in Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, 1:58
I
Jerusalem, in the chambers of the Sanhedrin on the Temple Mount 23 March, a.d. 33
Mordechai ben Uzziel shot to his feet. “Silence!” he roared.
The tumult of voices was cut off as though the entire assembly had been struck dumb. Those who were standing moved quickly to their seats. Every eye turned to Mordechai as he leaned forward, hands on the table where the presidency of the Great Council sat. Caiaphas, the current sitting high priest, sat beside him. On the other side of Caiaphas sat Azariah, chief of the Pharisees and the other member of the presidency of the council.
“Enough of this babble,” Mordechai said angrily. “We are in crisis, and you wring your hands like a child who has broken a toy. Sit down and speak only when you have something to say.”
He turned and glared at Azariah, daring him to contradict. But for once, Azariah was of the same mind. He was as sha
ken by events as Mordechai. For once, they stood united.
Mordechai lowered his voice, but only slightly. “All right, that’s better. We have heard the report now. No good will come of trying to explain it or make as if it did not happen. Perhaps this is some elaborate hoax foisted upon us by the followers of Jesus. They could have slipped this Lazarus into the tomb earlier in the day. Who actually knows for sure that the body they carried on the bier several days before was actually him? It would be an easy thing to come at night and make a switch.”
Several hands shot up, including those of Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus of the Pharisees, and Aaron of Sepphoris, the newest member of the council. Mordechai ignored them. “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care! The issue at hand is not Lazarus. The issue is Jesus.”
“We would be heard,” Joseph called out, getting to his feet. “Let us speak.” He was the most supportive voice on the council for the preacher from Nazareth, and he obviously had deep feelings.
“No! I am not finished.”
The wealthy merchant sat back down, his face dark with anger.
“What are we going to do?” Mordechai went on. “The people are completely dazzled by these so-called miracles Jesus keeps working. They are flocking to him by the thousands. And we cannot forget that this man is a Galilean. The Galilee has long been the seedbed for revolt. The Romans know that and are already expressing concern. If we don’t intervene, we’ll lose the entire population to him. And that will surely bring the Romans down upon our heads!”
“They’ll disband this council, for one thing,” Azariah exclaimed.
“Yes, and much more,” Mordechai said. “Rome will not—cannot!—tolerate another Zealot uprising. And this time it won’t be just Pilate who comes against us. Not if Jesus has thousands of followers. The legate of Syria will send every legion at his disposal. If that happens, we shall cease to exist as a nation.”
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