Anastasis

July 2025

John 11:1-44 — Hosea 13:14 — 2 Corinthians 4:14

So often in these waning years, my thoughts revisit that horrid day the Romans nailed my dearest of friends, Jesus, to the cross. He is gone now, returned to God, our Father in Heaven, blessed be his name. On the eve of his departure, Jesus assured me that when my time came, I would join him there. I must say, I yearn to see him again.

That dreadful day of the crucifixion occurred, of course, not long after my own death. If you can call it that. What a strange and ethereal occurrence it was, that domain where I hovered between sleep and not-sleep, where thoughts and images drifted like strange insects seeking a place to light, where the fragrance of myrrh cloyed the air.

I was comfortable enough there in the darkness. Cares and worries, they troubled me not. For that much, I was grateful, as life in Jerusalem and it surrounds had soured by the temple priests and their toady scribes parading about around the city, expecting, no, demanding obeisance from anyone of Jewish blood, be they high or low. Phaugh! Legalism that stifles the spirit was never God’s intent. Jesus taught us that.

Even more onerous was the burden of Pax Romana, imposed by the hastati, those thuggish legionaries who, like festering boils upon the backside of the Roman empire, treated Jews as if they were less than human. Had they no respect for us citizens of Israel who had inhabited this land for hundreds upon hundreds of years? Foolish question. Of course, they did not.

But that is hardly the issue.

In my first death, I had no sense of place or time nor did I care. Hunger and thirst did not come and I was no longer aggrieved by my unsound hip.

Floating. That describes it best, I suppose. It was like floating in a pool of dark water, yet there was no wetness. Strange. Dream-like, yet it was not a dream. I don’t remember smiling for there was no joy. Neither did I weep, for there was no sorrow. Peace. Yes, peace prevailed.

Ah, like so much of life, this, too, came to an end. Immersed in a vast torpor of peace, feeling as if I was somehow being beautifully, tenderly cared for, there came the calling of my name. “Lazarus!”

I seem to recall a flash of light.

Moved to sit up, to flail my arms, to cry out, what disturbs my rest, my body failed me. When again I heard the summons, “Lazarus! Lazarus! Come here! Come,” a jolt of fright gabbled at my innards

Wind swirled about as unseen hands lifted me. I sat up on the stone bench on which I had lain. Once, twice, I gasped and breath came, tainted with the fragrance of myrrh. Sparks of light winked through the kerchief that wrapped my head.

Although my arms were held fast, I was able to move my fingers and felt the texture of the cloth that bound me; the unmistakable feel of a linen. I pictured a shroud and swathing-bands and knew I was adorned in grave clothes.

The unseen hands continued their work. Strips swathing-bands fell away.

Once more came the call, “Lazarus! Lazarus! Here! Come!” Lilting joy and laughter carried on the words.

I heard the sound of stone scraping on stone. A threadline of soft light turned darkness to grey mist.

Again, came the joy-filled words, “Lazarus! Hana! Bo’o! Here! Come!’

The linen cloth about my head sloughed to the side. With hop-halting steps, I made my way to the light and I felt joy surge into my heart.

Yes. I might have known, for there, my beloved friend, Jesus, stood, the smile upon his face as broad and bright as the sun. He beckoned. “Lazarus! Here! Come!”

Raphu, my good neighbor from Bethany, full with laughter, ran to me. “Lazarus, wait! Your graveclothes! Let me take them lest you stumble and fall!”

What delight played before me. Jesus, and at his side, my sisters, Martha and Mary. My legs, wobbling like those of a newborn lamb, struggled to carry me from the tomb, stumbling down the rocky slope to where the dearest ones of my life awaited.

Eagerly, we embraced and our tears of joy watered the earth.

Like a gathering flock of quail came my friends from Bethany – Balas and Mahari, Rechab and Heman, Mamuchus, Neziah. When near enough, they reached out to touch me and embraced me and blessed me with cheers of “Simcha!” and “Nachas!” and “Chara!” Blessings of gladness and joy flowed like the wine from the wedding in Cana!

Stepping forward, waving her shawl aloft, Martha sang out, “Come! Come, everyone! Let us to our home! Let us rejoice and give thanks that our dear brother, Lazarus, is alive!”

Our parade was adorned with joy as we left the vale of tombs behind. Leading the way, children waved branches of palm and shouted, “Baruch ha’bah! Blessed be the one who comes! Baruch ha’bah!” Laughter and good cheer rang like silver bells as we walked.

Shoulder to shoulder, friends and neighbors entered our home in Bethany, eager to celebrate my return from Sheol, bringing wine and good food. John and James took charge to pour cups of wine that overflowed while Martha and Mary hastened to bring the food to table. Soon the table brimmed and it seemed to me the broad basket of figs and dates and grapes never emptied and the pannier of matzoh and kikar breads never depleted. I likened the assault on the table of food to a flight of locusts.

I was glad for the plentiful bowl of shakshouka near to where I sat, for this dish of eggs poached with tomatoes and olive oil and spiced with peppers, onions, garlic, cumin and paprika was a favorite and I did not have to reach for second and third helpings.

Raphu, sly fox that he was, stole to my side and presented me with a small wineskin. “Tis sweetened with the syrup of the pomegranate, my friend. Enjoy.”

“Ah, thank you, my friend. Just right for the yogurt and melon.”

There, with my sisters nearby, my belly full and my cup filled, with Jesus at my side and my ordeal with death well overcome, my joy was made full.

Later, when three stars appeared in the evening sky, our friends made way to their own homes leaving us to a welcome quiet. Jesus remained, and James and John, Andrew and Simon. And, of course, my sisters.

Mary, blessed one that she is, took this time to recount how, as my illness worsened, she and Martha had sent word to Jesus. Come soon, Rabboni, for Lazarus, whom you love, is sick, they wrote.

Jesus leaned near, his hand on my shoulder, said, “Lazarus, you should know that when that message came to me, I shared it with my disciples. Do not fear, I said, for this sickness will not end in death. This, you know, was so both the Son of God and the Lord God Almighty, would be praised.”

John spoke up: “Aye, Lazarus, you should also know none of us understood what Jesus meant. But praise be, all became clear once we saw you come from the tomb.”

Jesus gave John a poke in the ribs. “Oho, that is often the case with you twelve, dear friend.”

Simon spoke: “He means we do not easily comprehend what he is talking about. Speaking in parables does have its challenges.”

Jesus’ broad smile gave grace to Simon, saying, “There are times your understanding is as dense as the name I gave you … Petros.”

“Aye, Lord, – the stone. I am aptly named, for certain.”

James added, “Be glad, Simon, that he did not name you after Balaam’s ass!”

Laughter filled the room and our hearts.

Jesus said, “It was ultimately to God’s glory, Lazarus, that we remained on the far side of the Jordan until enough time passed for your spirit to leave you.”

Simon raised his voice. “Except it did not. You should know, Lazarus, when Jesus said, Come, let us return to Judea, I was not the only one struck with fear of the Sanhedrin. Did I not say, “Rabbi, it was only two days ago that you received the message of Lazarus’ illness … and now you say we are to return to where the Jews tried to stone you! Help us to understand!”

Jesus answered, “And I replied to him, Simon, are there not twelve hours of daylight? If you walk in the daytime, you will not stumble for you will see by this world’s light. It is only when you walk at night that you stumble, for then you have no light. Pray, then, for eyes to see. Yes, our friend Lazarus has died. But come, we shall go to Bethany where I will awaken him. Know this, dear friends, that my heart is gladdened that I was not there at the hour of his death. Behold, this, now, is for you, that you may believe!”

James then spoke: “Although some of us did not understand the meaning of Jesus’ words, we were yet willing to go wherever he went. Recall how Thomas said, “Let us go also, that we may die with him.”

Martha, her cup held high, said, “My brother, by the time we received word that you and the disciples were coming, Mary and I were so glad, so grateful. We were still weighed down by the words of Rabbi Asahel’s funeral prayer, Baruch atah Adonai Elkeinu melech haolam, dayan ha’ermet, for they left us with desolate hearts.

Mary added, “Although we knew you were coming, we feared that by the time you arrived, our Lazarus would have lain in the tomb for four days.”

“True,” said Martha, “yet in those sad days, our grief was blessed by the well-wishing friends and neighbors who came to comfort us.”

Then, with a crabwise turn toward Jesus and trace of rancor at the corner of her mouth, she said, “To speak the truth, Rabboni, I was indignant, for we knew that if you had come before Lazarus’s death, you could have saved him! Do you not remember how I ran to meet you on the road? How I said those very words!”

“Yes, dear one, and do you recall how I took your hands in mine and assured you that Lazarus would rise again? Joy came to my heart when you said, Yes, I know, I know Lazarus will rise on the resurrection of the last day. And yet I well know how your grief has wounded your heart. It was then I spoke truth to you, saying, Martha, I am the resurrection and the life. If you believe in me, you will live forever even though you die. Do you believe this?’”

Martha said, “When I heard the words, Rabboni, shame rose up in me and I bowed my head. I remember saying, ‘Yes, yes, Lord, I believe, for you are the Messiah, the Son of God now come into the world. This I know is true.’”

She turned, the light of her smile a blessing to the us. “At once,” she said, “I felt my sorrow lift and joy filled my heart. I kissed your hand in thanksgiving, then hurried home where I called out to my sister. ‘Mary! Rabboni comes! Jesus is here!’

“Well, then our dear Mary hurried to meet you and your disciples who had just come to the outskirts of Bethany. Good gracious, we was so eager to meet you, the mourners hurried after us like ducklings.”

Mary added, “Oh, my goodness, yes! They seemed to think I was returning to Lazarus’s tomb, that my mourning was not complete.” She waved her hand. “Oh, of little concern. Brother Lazarus, I want you to know when I met Jesus on the road, I stood boldly, my head up, my chin firm, arms akimbo as to block his way. Rabboni! I shouted. I have a bone to pick with you!

“Well, Jesus gave me his eyes and I pummeled my fists upon his chest and cried out, I know and you know, Rabboni, if you had been here, Lazarus would not have died! And the very moment I spoke those words, sorrow rose up in my heart and I began to weep anew.

Mary drew a deep breath before she continued. “Then, Lazarus, came a moment so tender, so precious, for when Jesus saw my tears, he too, was moved to sorrow. He embraced me and together we wept. Finally, when he was able, he said, ‘Truly, I understand. Martha, take me to where you have laid Lazarus.’

“By then, brother, Martha and many of the mourners had gathered around us. I took Jesus’ and said, Come see, Rabboni, and with his hand in mine, we walked toward the tomb.”

Martha said, “When his gaze fell upon the stone that sealed your tomb, he could not contain his tears. Lazarus, I wish you could have seen how deeply moved our dear Jesus was, for I was not the only one who was astonished as we saw his tears fall from his eyes and heard the groans of grief come from his heart. My brother, I have never seen the likes of this. Truly, he showed us how deeply he loves you.”

Mary said, “Then, Mamuchus – you know how at times he has all the grace of an ill-tempered ox, spilling words with little thought behind them – said, how was it that Jesus gave sight to a blind man but could not keep Lazarus from death?

“It is to Jesus’s favor that he did not answer. Instead, he went closer to the tomb and said to some men there, take away the stone.

“Both Martha and I were horrified. I cried out, Rabboni! It is four days now that our brother has been in the tomb! Surely there will be a stink!”

Martha said, “But that did not deter our Jesus. He turned to us and said, dear friends, did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

“Indeed! Then as the men rolled away the stone, he prayed. I remember him saying, Abba, I thank you that you have heard my prayer, for I have said these words that the people standing here may believe that you have sent me.

Well, I could contain myself no longer. With my arms a-flail, I leapt to my feet and shouted, Yes! Amen!”

“And that is when I heard your call, Jesus. I clapped my hands. Laughter colored my words as I mimicked his, Lazarus! Come here! Come!”

He is gone now, returned to his Abba, his Father in Heaven. On the day he left us, Martha and Mary and I stood with the eleven and watched as a cloud appeared beneath his feet and he was drawn up into the heavens. An impossible thing and yet …

These days, I cast about, pondering how Jesus is more than my especial friend. He is the Son of Man … the Son of God … the Messiah, who was, and is, and is yet to come.

You see, having experienced my own death, having been restored to life by the Messiah’s very words, I know this above all: Jesus and the most high God – blessed be his name – are one and the same.

As did the Prophet Hosea, I too cry out, where now, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Sheol, is your sting?

My time is nigh. Soon, I will join my friend in his Kingdom. Soon, I will see him in all his bright glory, never again to be awakened as from a dream of shadows.

 

Anastasis © copyright 2022 Peter K. Schipper