Chapter
Eight
THE question was never: "Will he die?" It was always: "When?"
Lazarus was dead now four days, Martha pondered her dark thoughts as she climbed the stairs to look into his vacant chamber. She stood resting her head against the doorpost and wondered how it went with the dead after four days. Not finding an answer, she sighed and started downstairs to take her morning meal.
She tried valiantly to ignore the tentacles of grief which squeezed her bones in painful spasms. She found that by swallowing hard, straightening up her shoulders, and carrying her head high, she could give at least the appearance of wholeness. Slowly she walked down the steps, across the main chamber, and opened the front doors.
They saw her just moments before she saw them. The mourners had gathered earlier and were quietly assembled by the outer gates, just talking and waiting.
Martha hailed them, briskly walked through the courtyard gardens, and bid them a somewhat delayed welcome.
Word of Lazarus's death had spread unusually fast as Jerusalem was within easy walking distance. Even though Martha's father was gone, Josiah's wealth and business abilities were known and remembered by many. The death, funeral, and time of mourning for Josiah's only son attracted a large concourse of distinguished Jews, and Martha took note of them all with some satisfaction.
They came now in great numbers and waited patiently to be received by the sisters. Some came in loving sadness, others out
Page 117
of curiosity, but many came out of their time-honored loyalty to Josiah and the customs of solace.
As Martha walked back into the house with the day's first mourners, she ran into Mary and exchanged good mornings.
"Have you eaten?" Martha mouthed the words silently toward Mary over the head of Simon, their neighbor.
"Yes. I awakened early. You go get something. I'll stay here with the guests." Mary gestured her head towards the cooking area.
Martha gave a grateful smile to Mary, excused herself from the guests, and hurriedly left them to her sister's gracious hospitality.
Even before Martha reached the door, Mary had engaged many of them in conversation. That sister of mine could charm a marble statue into carrying on a pleasant conversation, she thought, and a quick smile flashed across Martha's face.
In the cooking room Naomi was adding her finishing touches to her hearty corn porridge. She was bending over the pot, gingerly tasting the steaming mixture to see if the salt and water portions were correct and up to her rigid requirements.
"Is it fit?" Martha winked at Naomi in an attempt to be humorous and gave the old woman a quick pat on her shoulders.
Naomi had been deep in thought, and Martha's words startled her, but she recovered quickly and retorted, "Certainly! Would it be any other way?"
The two women's eyes met, but all the fun and pretense fell away, and the sadness which both women were enduring surged between them.
"I know, dear Naomi. We all shall miss Lazarus. It does not seem right that such a gentle man is gone, but... he is."
Words about him were impossible for Naomi; so she bustled about and with considerable effort returned to teasing and said, "Now, if my porridge is not to your satisfaction, I have some pomegranates and dried dates which might suit you better." She ladled out the hot porridge into a deep pottery cup, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a pleasant smile, but her eyes were red rimmed and damp.
The food refreshed Martha as the fresh morning air had earlier,
Page 118
and she relaxed as she sat on a low stool, eating and talking with Naomi.
With a good night's rest behind her to clear out the cobwebs from her mind, she realized she had taken the work of Naomi and the others for granted in the past weeks.
"Naomi," Martha said quietly, "I have been so preoccupied with the events of the past few days and so weary with my brother's illness, I fear I have neglected you. I want you to know I am grateful for your loyalty and your willingness to serve, dear friend."
Naomi made a clucking sound with her tongue and said, "There's no need for you to fear you have offended me." She gave Martha a loving hug. "I know you see everything, for your eyes are everywhere; so you are aware of the fruits of our labors. Your gratitude, my child, has always quietly shone like a constantly well-filled oil lamp."
The old woman's comment wrapped itself snugly around Martha's inner coldness, and she savored its momentary warmth.
She continued to sit and chat with Naomi and was just finishing the last of the porridge and picking at some tiny red pomegranate seeds when she heard Joseph calling her name and then saw him as he came looking for her.
"What is it, Joseph?" Martha got up and peered at him.
"He is here! I don't mean here. I mean in the grove-garden down the hill." Joseph's face was wet with running, and his uneven breathing verified his run.
"Slow down," Martha cautioned. "Now, tell me who is here?"
"The Master, Jesus, and most of his disciples," he panted.
She snapped to alertness, her eyes alive and wide with apprehension.
"What is he...?"
"It is true. He waits down there for you, Mistress Martha," Joseph shouted.
Hurriedly she said to Naomi and Joseph, "Tell no one his whereabouts. He must have his reasons for staying in the grove. Perhaps his enemies have followed him..."
Page 119
Martha did not finish her line of thought, nor did she have to tell them where she was going. Instantly she pulled her veil up and over her head. She disappeared out the back doorway, around the side of the house, and slipped through a small opening in the high outer wall which led to a narrow side street.
Downhill she raced, wishing with every football she had Tabitha's youth and gazellelike, graceful speed.
Finally she reached the break in the grove's stone wall and entered the grove-garden, ducking and pushing aside the low branches of the olive trees.
Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, someone caught her arm. She stumbled but was immediately pulled up by a sure, firm grip.
"Andrew!" she gasped. "You frightened several years' growth out of me."
What she had wanted to say, but her tongue for once failed her, was that her heart had quickened, not in fearful surprise, but with warm recognition at the sight of him. She was marvelously flooded with gladness at seeing her tall, red-haired friend. She wanted to tell him how right it was that he be in Bethany; how she had missed his quiet, eloquent voice; how she, had she dared, wished he had been with her during the past four days of sorrow.
Instead she determinedly swallowed all her feelings, dismissing them as if they were much too unlikely, and regained her composure to ask, "Now, where is the Master?"
Andrew did not loosen his grip on her arm but began to guide her around flower beds and past leafy trees. As they scrambled through the grove, he said in a low voice, "Jesus' enemies are resourceful, clever and extremely dangerous. Every day groups of evil men who hate him increase their numbers. They multiply more rapidly than the holes in my fishing nets. It is wise to exercise caution when we travel; so he thought it best to seek refuge here before we ventured up the street to your house."
"Of course," Martha answered simply. Lazarus's care had taken up so much of her time and thoughts that, here again, like forgetting to express her gratitude to Naomi, Martha had forgotten the frightening turn of events for Jesus. She took her head as if to clear it.
Page 120
Andrew's calm words and explanation revived her mind, and she wondered with sharpness if the death noose of Caiaphas, the high priest, and other religious men of importance would actually tighten around the throat of her friend Jesus.
In remembering Jesus' precarious situation, she also remembered her own keen disappointment in his seemingly thoughtless delay. Perhaps his personal safety was his reason for staying away, but Martha couldn't put too much of it all together.
Nor did she have a chance, because at that moment Andrew and she came upon Jesus and his men. They were talking in low voices as they sat together on a small, grassy knoll.
With one hand Martha held a tree branch out of her way and with the other hand on her hip, she looked down at him. She had wanted to give him greetings and to be hospitable with the others, but four days of grieving and four days of questioning left a bitter-tasting film on her tongue, and she spit out the words before she could stop herself. "Oh, Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!"
In the hour before Lazarus's death, Martha had been filled to overflowing with an abundance of faith. She was so sure of Jesus' ability to heal, so trusting in his deep friendship, so sure that he would drop everything to rush to them, and proven so wrong with Lazarus's death.
Martha's anguish was genuine as she looked down at Jesus, and her unspoken reproach filled her soul.
Why, why did you not come in time to save him? You could have snatched your friend from the jaws of death and us from the wretched grief of parting: yet you did not come. Now you are too late, she said to herself as she looked down at him.
She stood awaiting his reply, deeply enmeshed in her own frustrating pondering. Yet somehow she could feel herself being captivated once more by the intensity of Jesus' soul-searching gaze upon her. He is so hard to resist, she thought and found a moment of peace.
Martha looked down at him, and he seemed to be bathed in an aura of dignity even though he was seated beneath her at her feet. There it was again, an incredible majesty which covered him with a royal mantle. Somehow, even with her dark well of
Page 121
thoughts, Martha gleaned a vague measure of hope.
It was this small seed of hope which prodded her to state, "I know that even now, whatever you ask of God, He will grant you."
She had faith in him, but it was a faith with some reservations. Mary had been right when up on the roof she had accused Martha of limiting Jesus' powers. But a change was taking place within her, and standing here, looking at what Andrew and the others called the "long-awaited Messiah," Martha's faith increased, and her thought process began a bending toward a new direction.
Jesus smiled up at her as if he could see and measure the changing as it occurred within her and he reached for her hand.
Martha needed no prompting. She gave him both hands and knelt down on the grass behind him.
Later she was to say of that time, "In that moment I began my surrender."
Andrew and the other disciples hushed their talk completely and gave Jesus and Martha their full attention.
Still holding her hands, Jesus straightened his back and sat erect and still before her. His words were spoken in a low voice but rang with unmistakable, ultimate authority.
"Your brother will rise again."
Martha smiled and thought, Spoken like my good father, a devout Pharisee. Part of her religious training on the Messiah, the Kingdom of Heaven, the immortality of the soul, and the belief in life after death flashed before her mind. She was pleased Jesus would console her in her loss. Martha shrugged her shoulders and warmly responded, "Oh, I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."
"Martha!" Jesus cried impassionately, and his eyes frightened her with their piercing magnitude. "I am the resurrection and the life."
The words I am thundered at her.
Martha sat there, daring not to speak or move, for she had never heard him speak so fiercely. His words, penetrating her soul with their directness, continued. "I am the one who raises the dead and gives them life again. Anyone who believes in me,
Page 122
even though he dies like everyone else, shall live again. No one who lives and believes in me will ever die.
"Do you believe this, Martha?" The tone of his voice vibrated through the grove, and Martha shivered.
It was not within her power to fathom if Jesus meant physical death, spiritual death, or both, but without pausing to examine his deep utterance, her obedient, if not blind faith, supplied the answer.
"Yes, Master. I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one we have so long awaited."
They fell silent, and a peaceful pause restored the tranquility of the grove. A few moments later Jesus asked of Mary and expressed a desire to see her; so Martha took advantage of their private moment.
"Andrew, there is a small lump of hardness in my breast, because I still do not understand why Jesus did not come to see us when Aaron gave him our message. Did he express his reasons to you? What happened up there in Perea?"
Andrew scratched his head, pursed his lips together, and finally answered, "Martha, my friend, we were just as puzzled by it all as you. In fact, we still are.
"When Jesus heard the boy's message, he continued to teach as if nothing had happened. We did not understand then, nor did we two days later when he abruptly announced at our morning meal that we would go to Judea.
"Some of the men objected to our going. They reminded Jesus that only a few days earlier the Jewish leaders in Judea had tried to stone him to death.
"I, myself, questioned why he would risk such a foolish venture and asked him directly if he really was going back there again.
"Jesus' only answer was confusing. He said that during the twelve hours of his daylight work, he could walk in safety, because the strength and powers of his duty, which was the will of his father, would keep him from harm.
Page 123
"Then he puzzled us even more, for he told us that Lazarus had gone to sleep and now he would go and awaken him. We assumed he meant a natural sleep, and one or two men rejoiced that Lazarus was getting better. But Jesus shook his head sadly and corrected us all by plainly telling us that Lazarus was dead, not sleeping.
"But then Jesus said the strangest thing of all."
"What was that?" Martha had stopped, and she took Andrew's arm.
"Jesus looked at all of us and said, 'For your sake, I am glad I wasn't there, for this will give you another opportunity to believe in me. Come, let's go to him.' When Thomas heard these last words of Jesus, he threw up his hands in resignation. Thomas is a good man, Martha, and a loving man, but he is ever despondent and constantly looking on the darker side of things. However, we could not help but smile when he said, 'Of course, let's go too; so that we may die with him.'
"Then we broke camp and traveled here." Andrew ended this puzzling explanation with a shrug of his shoulders.
Martha gasped, "Then Jesus knew all along that my brother was dead!" She had no further opportunity to explore the startling possibilities of her statement, for they had reached the narrow gate off the side street. Both slipped through the opening and walked under the back portico.
"Andrew, wait here," Martha whispered. "I shall slip around and enter the house from the front doors to avoid arousing suspicion. Mary and I will have to leave by the front gate. I hope we can do it quietly. We will meet you on the lower street in a few moments."
As she rounded the side of the house, she nearly collided with Aaron and Jude astride a magnificent light-colored horse.
"Oh, Claudius is here!" she said out loud, and the boys' gleaming eyes confirmed it.
That's good, she thought. We need a warrior to protect Jesus. His disciples, strong men that they are, do not seem like fighters capable of rescuing someone who is about to be stoned to death.
Claudius stood as tall as Peter, but he fairly bulged with well-developed muscles. Even when he was very young, he could
Page 124
throw a spear farther than any soldier in his legion, and he wielded his dagger into action faster than an eye blinks. His dark hair was cut in the short, blunt cut of soldiers, and not only his impressive physical attributes, but his dark handsome looks helped his fast rise in rank. Because of his well-filled body and height, he began as a young lad in a cavalry regiment, and his love of horses blossomed and developed. Quite by accident he fell into a staff position for a legate, and learned to write so creditably that he became a magistrate as well.
Martha had no trouble at all understanding how he eventually became the youngest tribune in the Jerusalem area. His skills, looks, and good fortune provided everything he had dreamed of as a small boy. He envisioned himself as a soldier of high rank, and he had achieved his dream.
Because Claudius and his men had been assigned to patrol and keep the peace in the temple area, Jesus was no stranger to him. It was there, in the outer area of the temple, that Claudius's heart was first moved.
He told Martha and Mary later, "As I looked and listened to this man called Jesus, I experienced the first pangs of jealousy. It was as if, with all my rank and power, I had nothing compared to this man. Where I had never wanted before, I now felt an ever-widening void, and I found myself staring at the walls in my quarters at night, wondering if what I possessed was worth anything at all.
Martha had never heard him say outright that he was a follower or a believer of Christ, but certainly he was a friend. She was relieved to know he was here and hoped she would find him quickly.
As inconspicuously as possible, Martha hurried through the courtyard and into the main entrance. With no more than a raised eyebrow, she signaled Mary to come to the doorway. In the same moment she realized Mary was talking with Claudius; so she motioned that he come too.
Martha stepped outside into the courtyard gardens and waited impatiently for them to untangle themselves from the others.
Finally, in what seemed to Martha an eternity of time, Mary and Claudius sauntered over to Martha. In guarded whispers she
Page 125
told them of Jesus' presence and that he had asked for her. Mary would have fled instantly to the grove, but Martha restrained her and said, "There is a need for secrecy and silence, my sister. Our friend Jesus' life is in jeopardy, and we must proceed with caution." Then, turning to Claudius, she said urgently, "You are a soldier, familiar with the ways of battle and evil men. Please — for us — see to his safety."
Hastily Claudius told them he had heard the ugly death rumors in Jerusalem, and that Martha's request was unnecessary. "I am a true, but secret, believer of Christ," he said. "Weeks ago, as I listened to the preaching of Jesus, my inner emptiness became a reality."
"Once I heard him say to ask, for it would be granted; to seek, for you would find; to knock, for it would be opened; so, without telling anyone, I asked. I asked for the Kingdom of God to fill my being and take up the emptiness. I do not know how this was done, but it was accomplished." As he talked, he walked between the two women, and the three slowly strolled to the outer gates, unaware of several Jewish leaders following.
"I have committed my soldiering skills to Jesus' welfare and safety," he finished.
Everyone assumed they would turn to their left, go up the hill, and spend some time at the tomb. Instead, the three turned right and walked down the hill in the opposite direction to meet up with Andrew. The mourners were astounded and hurried to catch up with them.
When they reached the grove-garden, Mary broke from Martha, Andrew, and Claudius and ran almost blindly to find Jesus. When she reached him she flung herself at his feet, weeping, and a great love spilled out of her as she expressed her inner yearnings.
"Oh, Lord, if you had been here, my brother would still be alive!"
Martha heard Mary repeat her own statement as she reached them and marveled that when Mary said her exact words, they sounded so different. There was no accusation in Mary's tone, only a weeping sadness and loving regret.
Jesus pulled Mary to her feet. She was sobbing uncontrollably,
Page 126
and to console her, he put his arms around her. Past her head he saw Martha, Andrew, Claudius, and a host of Jewish leaders.
Martha took in the sight of all that love and misery, the pitiable spectacle of bereavement, the utter futility of human consolation at such a moment, the mourning Jews standing near the trees who watched Jesus' every move, and she understood fully the strong emotions which shook Jesus' frame with a powerful shudder.
His voice was choked with sadness and almost savagely he cried out, "Where is he buried?"
Mary was still weeping and clinging to his shoulders; so Martha stepped over to him.
"Come and see."
He lifted his head up and the sun, filtering down through the feathery gray green olive trees, glistened on his face and beard as they were washed with his tears.
He then bent his head, said something to Mary, and after nodding at his disciples, Jesus, his friends, and the crowd of mourners began their walk to Lazarus's tomb.
Martha and Andrew led the way with Jesus a few steps behind followed by Mary. Claudius stayed close to the little group but remained in a position clear of the men to see trouble before it began. Martha was not so far ahead of the group to miss hearing Rabbi Ben Isaiah and the others talking of Jesus.
They were agreeing among themselves that Jesus was a close and dear friend of Lazarus. Rabbi Ben Isaiah commented, "See how much he loved him. His tears prove it." Then the tenor of the conversation changed, and Martha couldn't see who, but someone, in a voice close to sneering, asked: "This fellow healed a blind man. Why couldn't he keep Lazarus from dying?"
Martha burned with conviction, because the man's question echoed her very own thoughts of a few days ago. She hoped Jesus had not heard, but he had. In that moment he stopped, turned around, and with angry, fiery eyes bore into the man who spoke. No one could tolerate the thrust of Jesus' stormy emotion or his anger at the ghastly work of death; so momentarily they stopped, midprocession, and dropped their eyes to mutely stare
Page 127
at the dust about their feet. The moment passed, and they resumed their walk.
By the time they passed the house and had almost reached the tomb, Martha noted with some dismay that the procession swelled with almost all of Bethany's inhabitants.
Now, keeping his presence in Bethany a secret will be impossible, Martha thought. Why don't they just leave us alone? Instead the procession picked up more people at each turn of the road, and eventually they all reached the rocky hill and stood in front of the family's tomb. Jesus turned to some men standing just behind her, and to Martha's dreadful horror, she heard him ask the men to roll the stone aside.
Nothing he could have done would have shocked her more. Oh, dear Adonai, she breathed, we buried him the same day he died because of our ovenlike climate. His soul has utterly departed from his moldering, decomposing body, and I am not ready to reveal the shocking spectacle or bear the embarrassment if that tomb is opened. He must not open that tomb.
Frantically she rushed at Jesus crying, "My Lord, my Lord, wait. By now the smell will be terrible, for he has been dead four days!" Past him she saw several heads bob up and down in agreement.
Jesus looked at her with patient compassion and solemnly asked, "Martha, did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?"
She looked upon his face — the face of all truth — and unable to resist or deny him, she spun around, and to the men she curtly snapped the order, "Do as he said. Open the tomb."
Then, attracting no one's attention but Mary's, Martha deliberately raised her veil over her head and wound it securely over her nose and mouth. Mary followed suit as she had been silently directed.
After they recruited several more to help, the men finally moved the stone aside, leaving the entire entrance unbarred.
Jesus left Mary and Martha and walked just up to the edge of the entrance. Everyone else backed up and shrank away, but no one took their eyes off the figure in front of the dark and silent tomb. A great hush fell on everyone. No human spoke or
Page 128
moved, and even the earth's wispy sounds of birds, insects, and winds were settled and stilled.
Jesus stood facing the dark cavern and lifted up his eyes to the heavens above and immediately thanked God for hearing his prayer.
Martha pondered later that it was almost as if he had previously prayed and given his request to God, and God had already answered.
Then Jesus seemed to direct his prayer to Martha and all the others who stood by, because he prayed, "And I know that You always hear me, but on account of the people around here, I said this so that they may believe that You have sent me."
Martha and Mary stood together, arms locked behind each other's back, their veils drawn tightly over their faces. They could only stare and wonder at him, their strange and remarkable friend, Jesus. They could not believe their ears when a moment later, in the briefest of utterance, Jesus cupped one hand to his mouth and simply called, "Lazarus, come out!"
Mary buried her head in Martha's shoulder, not willing to see or hear anything from this dreadful place, but Martha stared at the back of Jesus and geared herself for the sickening odor of decaying flesh. It never came.
Jesus took a few steps to the side, and now the dark entrance was clearly visible. At first all they could see was just a black hole. Sluggishly the figure dragged itself upright and stiffly shuffled its way to the opening.
Martha's heart pounded and raced within. She shook Mary and fiercely whispered, "Look... look!"
Everyone moved together, as one silent mass, closer to the entrance, and as if they had one pair of eyes, they saw the white binding cloths which wrapped the tall figure of a man. They watched in utter disbelief as the figure tossed his head vehemently to shake off the head napkin, and instead of the repulsive odor they expected, the air was filled with the fragrance of his ointments.
Jesus had not watched the cave or the emerging figure but had turned to observe the faces and reactions of the people. When he
Page 129
saw they were stunned, motionless, unable to speak or move, he broke the silence, smiled, and, pointing at Lazarus, commanded, "Unbind him and let him go!"
Martha heard him first, and, leaving Mary, she sprang to aid the figure. She grabbed the head napkin and gasped with hazy recognition.
"Lazarus, is it really you?" The words clogged together in her throat. The color of his hair and his eyes was the same, but his skin had lost its pallor and was of a healthy hue. His eyes were dancing brightness with the absence of pain.
His smile was broad, and he teased, "Martha, will you stand there all day or will you help out of this?"
Now she was laughing and crying all at once. She began unwinding the wide strips of cloth, and over her shoulders she called to Mary, "It's our brother — Lazarus — come see!"
Mary and the others moved forward, not quickly at first, but cautiously. Finally the truth of it all began to come upon their hearts and minds like a magnificent sunrise, and everyone began talking at once. Their voices began in low murmuring tones and increased until it was the sound of a roaring lion. Some began to sing; others wept or joyously laughed; little children clapped their hands as if they had discovered a new game; still others impulsively began to dance, but no one was still.
Jesus stood off from the tomb, and as two little boys darted past him, he caught one and set the laughing boy up on his shoulders. Everyone's glorious tumult shook the little hills of Bethany.
Somehow Hannah pushed her way through Martha's side, and together they stripped the grave clothes off Lazarus's body, leaving him standing in his wrinkled white tunic which was stained with the precious burial ointments.
When he had both arms and legs free, he opened his mouth and gave a whooping shout of joy to the sky above. Then in delirious ecstasy, Lazarus grabbed Martha with one arm, caught Mary in the other, and whirled them about through the crowd of men, women, and children in an explosion of flying dust and skirts. All the while he was shouting, "I am alive; you are alive; we are alive! Praise be to Jehovah, the giver of all life!"
Page 130
When he finally put them down, Martha managed to catch her breath, and her questions tumbled out of her. "But how do you feel? Is there any pain? Are you alright? How are you?"
"My sister," he said in a loud voice, "I am hungry — that's how I am — hungry."
Martha clasped her hands together, not really daring to believe what she heard; so she repeated, "Hungry? You are hungry?" She had waited all his ailing years to hear him say those words, and now he was standing before her saying, "Yes, dear sister, go make me a feast!"
Then, with the corners of his mouth curving in a mischievous smile, he said in mocking confidentiality to Mary, "After all, our sister Martha has not fed me in how many days?" Mary was still awestruck; so she said nothing but held up four fingers.
"Ah, yes, Martha has not served a scrap of food to me in four days; so I should be hungry." He ended by hugging and dancing both Mary and Martha through the crowd all over again. He was so newly awakened and so filled with pleasure at seeing Mary and Martha, he had not glimpsed Jesus or really seen any of the large group around him.
Jesus still carried the little boy, but from one side of the tight circle of people which surrounded Lazarus, he called loudly, "You may feel hungry, and you look well enough, but I dare say you smell like a young maiden who has just been anointed with perfume for her wedding day!"
In the same moment all the humor and laughter of all the ages before and still to come settled down on Lazarus. He realized that his friend Jesus was responsible for bringing his soul and body back from death's grave. That realization and Jesus' happy words made Lazarus's face beam with understanding, and out of his mouth came a burst of incredible laughter. It rang like a huge orchestra of trumpets, bells, and clanging cymbals, and its volume was almost deafening.
Even as he laughed he ran, arms outstretched, the few steps into Jesus' waiting embrace. Jesus put the small boy down, and the two men met, soundly clapped each other's back, and shouted together. Then, flinging their heads back, they were
Page 131
absorbed in an exhilarating, yet holy, kind of contagious laughter and joy.
Suddenly, seeing Lazarus and Jesus carrying on together like this, Martha, Mary, and each person in the crowd began to slowly fathom the ramifications of what they had just witnessed.
A dead man was now alive, well, and even laughing. The magnitude of Jesus' power was certainly evident when he made the blind man see, the lame child walk, and the lepers clean and free of their hideous disease, but this — this with Lazarus was different, they reasoned to themselves.
Rabbi Ben Isaiah and a small group of men began to excitedly talk and question together as to how much power it would take to raise the dead back to life.
Logically and systematically they ruled out prophet, mere teacher, and good, holy man, and came tentatively to the word messiah.
"His power over life and death is not a trick. I know Lazarus was dead. Now he is not only alive, but never have I seen him so well, so full of good health. This Jesus must be who he says he is, the Messiah, the Son of God." Rabbi Ben Isaiah was making the incredible statement. He was saying words he certainly never expected to utter. Yet in the face of today's extraordinary experience at the tomb, how could Jesus be anything but the Son of God? He reasoned all this aloud to the old men of Bethany as they stood listening and stroking their beards as they pondered his words.
Martha caught his words and found herself marveling at the old rabbi's willingness to reverse his theological position. He has always said the claims of the carpenter would have to be proven and today, Martha thought, what better proof?
She was still caught up in the whirlpool created by Lazarus's return and the crowd's high emotions when her own thoughts repeated themselves to her.
"What better proof?" and with a profound new insight she said to herself, "I have admired and loved Jesus as a friend. I have served him, sometimes too diligently, but obediently, and I have believed in him. But after today's proof I find I have not
Page 132
loved, and served, and believed him completely and wholly without reservation. I need to see that my devotion to him and my serving to him must not only be done because he is my friend, but because he is my Lord." The truth — the whole truth of God — began to illuminate each dark little corner of her mind. I must serve him not out of duty alone but cheerfully, willingly, and out of love. Her thoughts astounded her.
The incredibility of knowing Jesus for the better part of three years and missing his lordship, his divine saviourhood, his true identity poured over her soul. How could I have been so blind?
"Dear Lord, " she cried silently to herself as her eyes found Jesus in the crowd. "You are not just my friend — you are my Saviour, my Redeemer, my Lord. You are God come down in flesh to me, to my brother, sister, friends — no, even to the whole world. How could I have been so close to you, yet almost missed you?
"You were here with me in my house and in my village, but I was always outside your love rushing wildly about.
"You were here within me, but I was not with you. You called me, but my ears were stopped, and I was deaf to your pleadings.
"I did not sit at your feet with Mary, because I would not stop my serving long enough to listen to you.
"But today, here at the tomb, you have broken past my deafness; you have bathed me in your forgiveness; you wrapped me in your splendor; you have taken the blindness from my eyes.
"I do not know why I came to love you so late, my Lord. But I do love you, and I know who you are now, Jesus of Nazareth. You are my God, my King, my Saviour, my Messiah."
The wonder and depth of her words overwhelmed her. Martha uttered a small cry out loud, and with new understanding thought to herself, Oh, Lord, that is why you sent the message that Lazarus's sickness would not end in death, but in giving glory to God. Here, today, in your prayer you said you were doing this so that the people gathered here would believe.
Lord, did you know I would be one of those believers? Did you know what today would be for me? Martha looked at Jesus, and she knew he had heard all her thoughts, for he raised his head,
Page 133
nodded silently to her, and his smile was filled with warm compassion and total understanding.
"So you knew," she said aloud, and from somewhere deep inside her, a small burning fire was smothered out; a hard rocky place at her waist was instantly dissolved; the band of tightness around her chest was snapped forever. Martha stood free — hardly daring to believe the freedom.
She might have stood there forever except that she was jolted back to life's realities by Lazarus, who leaned close to her face and with eyes twinkling in merriment said, "As I said before, dear sister, I'm hungry! Let's go home and feed everybody!"
"Yes, of course," she almost shouted. Martha grabbed Andrew's arm and said, "If I am to feed him and this group, I shall have to do it quickly. Come with me to the fish market. Perhaps they have not closed their shop, and I pray they have some fish on hand. You can help me, old fisherman, to select the freshest fish!"
Andrew said nothing, but immediately left the others and took long strides to catch up with Martha as she rushed briskly down the hill ahead of all the others.
The last remark she heard was made by Rabbi Ben Isaiah. The rabbi kept looking and pointing at Jesus, saying, "He is the One! He is the One!"
Martha turned to Andrew and said, "For once our rabbi has said a truth without using a cartload of words." They both laughed.
"Andrew," she said as they neared the bottom of the hill, and her face showed lines of concern, "there is something happening inside of me. It's a queer strange thing, and I scarcely can explain it. But up there on the hill, at the tomb, I ...."
"Yes?" Andrew gently prodded.
"Well," she was hesitating ever so slightly. "It's just that I find it hard to believe that I have known Jesus for almost three years; yet today, Andrew, today I really saw him. And what's even stranger is that I feel so different, so ..." she fumbled for the word, "ah, changed. I don't seem to be myself. I like this newness, but suddenly it is all a little bewildering. Furthermore, a song seems to be beginning inside of me."
Page 134
"Well, sing it to me then!" laughed Andrew.
"Me? Oh, no, I've always left the singing to Mary. You see, this is not like me. Besides, I don't think I can sing."
"Have you ever tried?"
"Of course not!" she answered instantly. "I told you I'm not the singer in the family."
"Oh, Martha, I don't care, and the song doesn't care, so sing it." She hesitated, so Andrew went on. "Remember the night I first came to your house to tell you about Jesus?"
She nodded her head.
"Then you should also remember how you kept telling me how different I was and how well I spoke, putting words together when all you could remember of me before was my eternal silence! What you had forgotten was that I had met, seen, and given my life to Jesus, the Christ, the Redeemer, Saviour of the world, and, having done so, I was changed. Remember I still looked like Andrew, the fisherman, but the very marrow of my bones began a transformation, and the hidden but raw places inside of me began to mysteriously heal.
"I am sure Jesus did not eradicate the old Andrew in me. Instead, he began to pull out those qualities, character traits, and abilities that I never dreamed were within me. It has been a growing process which, to this day, has not stopped.
"I suspect you, dear Martha, have always been able to sing, but you had no song. However, because of him you not only will sing, but your ears, deaf until now, will hear, all around you, the different miraculous music of God!"
She clasped his hand in hers in understanding, and they swung their arms skyward. They looked like two happy children, and whether it was appropriate behavior for a woman in her station in life or not, she called out to a man who peered down at them from a rooftop, "Rabbi Ben Isaiah says Jesus is the One. Lazarus, my brother, back from the grave, says Jesus is the One, and Andrew and I say it too. He is the One!"
The man, sleepy from his afternoon nap, scratched his head and tried to make some sense our of Martha's words. However, when he heard her singing he was genuinely surprised! Her voice, filled with a deep, husky richness, was loudly bringing
Page 135
forth the haunting minor strains of a song. Not only had he never heard Martha sing, he had never heard the song itself, nor did he really understand a word of it!
By the time Martha and Andrew reached the fish shop, the few villagers who were not up at the sepulchre heard her song which spilled out of her like a waterfall of crystal clear mountain water! It was an extraordinary song, sung by Bethany's most unlikely singer, but it was borne out of an extraordinary event; so she sang:
He is the One!
Jesus, the anointed One.
He is the One!
God's beloved Son.
Yes, he is the One!
He is the One!
He is the Messiah come.
Messiah come!
As they picked out two large fish for roasting and gathered all the dried, salted fish that was left into a large basket, the merchants from the other small market stalls gathered together. All they could say, as they shook their heads in amazement, was, "Is this the voice of our Martha of Bethany?"
But of course that was before they heard the unbelievable news of Lazarus. online books christian books
