“Thank you.” Lazarus breathed a heavy sigh as he opened the bag at his side, withdrew one denary and handed it to the boy. The youth handed him the fruit and he bit into it, enjoying its rich juices on his palate and the meat of it as it nourished him. “May I drink of the flask?”
“Drink what you like. I keep much for travelers across the sand.” The youth reached down and brought a flask to Lazarus’ hands.
Lazarus had removed the cloth from his mouth and drank fully of the warm water. It rejuvenated him and he felt energy rising in his body once more. He looked forward to eating the golden loaf of bread. “Have you heard word of where Jesus of Nazareth is?” he asked as he passed the flask back.
There was a look of fear in the boy’s eyes. “He is being tried by Pilate in the palace.”
“For what?” Lazarus was in disbelief that Jesus had been taken captive. “What could he have done?” He took the loaf of bread from the boy and tore a chunk to eat. He was too late to warn the man. Was there anything else he could do?
“They say he claims to be the Messiah and that he claims he will tear down the temple and rebuild it as has been prophesied.” There was a moment of silence between the two as the boy gave him a cautious look. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve heard it said that Jesus raised a man from his tomb in Bethany. I have a sick son and I seek him because of this.” Lazarus began walking away as he tore off another piece of bread.
“I am sorry for your son!” the boy called after him. “I am friends with a man who saw Lazarus of Bethany emerge from the darkness of his tomb. Surely they will find Jesus guilty. How could such a man not be the Messiah?”
Lazarus did not look back. He tore another piece of bread with his mouth and wrapped his cloth tightly over his face once more. If I am recognized then I will be seized and sentenced with Jesus. He continued through the streets, walking in the shadows when he could and heading toward the temple mount where he knew Jesus would be tried. There were soldiers in the streets before him. He continued on, determined to help Jesus in some way.
3
Throngs of men and women had amassed at the temple mount, noisily arguing and moving against each other as they tried to get better positioning to the praetorium where Jesus was being questioned by Pilate. Soldiers positioned outside scanned the crowd with stern looks on their faces.
Lazarus was amongst the masses, hiding behind the cloth over his face, in a dense group of people. He hoped he would not be noticed but could not stay away from this place. He felt drawn to Jesus, felt a connection to the man that he could not explain.
Anger was building in the crowd because of what they said Jesus had claimed, that he was the Messiah. Some of the group whispered Jesus should be put to death while others remained silent and appeared to avoid looking to the praetorium.
A hush fell over the crowd as Pilate walked out of the structure and into the sunlight, surrounded by soldiers. His red robe flowed in the breeze. Lazarus watched warily. “I find no crime in Jesus of Nazareth,” the thin man declared. “But you have a custom that I should release one man for you at Passover. Will you have me release for you the King of the Jews?”
Lazarus felt struck as the crowd burst out, “Not this man, but Barab’bas!” Barab’bas was a rioter and bandit and Lazarus had heard of him while standing in the crowd. “Barab’bas! Barab’bas! Barab’bas!” the mob chanted. He wanted to shout out, No! Free Jesus of Nazareth! But he said nothing and instead turned his eyes out of fear that he would be discovered and tried as well.
Pilate stared out over him and the chanting crowd. Lazarus thought he saw a hardened look of regret in his eyes before he turned back into the shadow, moving a curtain and walking into the praetorium. He looks as if he is torn. Does he know Jesus is the son of the Lord?
“Barab’bas! Barab’bas! Barab’bas!” the crowd chanted as Lazarus pushed his way through them toward the praetorium. He could feel anger and excitement swelling around him as he moved forward, and then halted as a hand parted the curtain and Pilate stepped out before the crowd.
Pilate hesitated for a moment. “Behold, I am bringing him out to you, that you may know that I find no crime in him!”
Jesus stepped through the curtain in a flowing purple robe as sunlight shone down on him. There was a crown of thorns on his head. Blood trickled down his forehead where the thorns pierced his skin. He looked out with caring in his eyes.
“Here is the man!” Pilate announced as Jesus stepped to his side.
“Crucify him! Crucify him!” the chief priests and soldiers near them shouted, enticing the mob.
Pilate looked to the priests. “Take him yourselves and crucify him, for I find no crime in him.”
A man burst forward from near where Lazarus stood. “We have a law, and by that law he ought to die, because he has made himself the Son of God!” There was a roar of agreement from the mass.
Lazarus took a step toward the man to restrain him but stopped, afraid of what the mob would do to him.
Pilate grasped Jesus’ cloaked arm and led him back into the praetorium as the crowd became restless. “Crucify him!” one man shouted from the front and the group echoed his call before a man from behind Lazarus shouted, “Free him! He is the son of the Lord!” More shouts rose above the man’s call and he was silenced by the people around him.
Moments later Pilate returned through the curtains with Jesus at his side. He was clearly troubled. “Will you not release Jesus of Nazareth? I find him guilty of no crime and Barab’bas, whom you shout to release, is a rioter and a thief!”
In this moment Jesus met Lazarus’ eyes, held his look and then looked away.
The same man who had cried out before was at the front close to Pilate and Jesus now. “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend! Everyone who makes himself a king sets himself against Caesar!”
Pilate has no choice now, Lazarus realized. Caesar’s laws are above all others. If Pilate frees him then Caesar may declare he be crucified as well.
With a motion to the soldiers Pilate took Jesus along a path away from the crowd, stopping once he reached a mosaic pavement where the judgment seat sat, and instructing Jesus to take the chair. Lazarus moved with the crowd toward them and the people cheered about him when Jesus sat.
Pilate stood before Jesus as heat wafted in the air. The Pharisees watched Jesus intently. “Here is your king!” Pilate called out to the crowd.
“Away with him! Away with him!” the mob responded. “Crucify him!”
“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate turned, looking out to all the people before him.
One of the chief priests stepped forward. “We have no king but Caesar,” the man spoke as he avoided Jesus’ eyes.
Pilate looked to Jesus and then back to the masses. “I will not ask again! Let this man’s blood be on your hands! I wash myself of this! Crucify him if that is what you want of him!”
The mob roared in approval, pushing forward toward the judgment seat as Pilate stood back away from it. The soldiers forced Jesus to stand and gave him over to the crowd as they met him. They took the purple robe from him, leaving him in his regular clothes but still with the crown of thorns.
“Take him to the crosses!” the soldiers shouted to the crowd as the people grabbed onto Jesus and almost dragged him toward massive wooden crosses leaning against the area’s walls.
Lazarus could see large splinters in the crosses’ wood. What do I do? He thought as the crowd jostled him and he moved the opposite direction. I can’t do anything for him now. Lord please be with me. He watched as the mob forced Jesus to heft his own cross onto his back. There was anguish in Jesus’ eyes.
“Take him to Gol’gotha!” one of the soldiers shouted. “Two other men will be crucified there today!”
Lazarus pushed his way forward with the mob as they forced Jesus to the streets. His eyes seared as tears formed in them, seeping into the cloth over his face. Someone shoved him in the back and he stumbled
, catching himself on another man in front of him before finding his footing and continuing once more.
Hours passed as soldiers led the crowd through the streets, beating Jesus with whips as blood ran from his scars. People heckled Jesus as he bore the cross on his back and Lazarus watched as he collapsed under the weight of it.
The soldier before Jesus turned back toward him. “Stand!” Lazarus heard the call. Pain clenched his chest as he watched Jesus struggle to lift the cross. “Stand!” The soldier walked back to him, thrusting his arm back and lashing Jesus with his whip as Jesus cried out in agony.
Why Lord? Why don’t you save your son?
“Stand!” the soldier shouted again and whipped him once more.
Jesus looked to the soldier. “…please.” His voice was weak and Lazarus pushed toward him, unable to restrain himself any longer.
The soldier watched Jesus with hatred. “You cannot prolong your death, King of the Jews!” he mocked. “You!” The soldier signaled a young brown-skinned man pushing his way through the crowd who was paying the group little attention. “Stop, man!” the soldier shouted as the man turned to look. “You will carry the cross for this man! Carry it or be crucified alongside him! Caesar wills you to!”
“I am but passing through your city. I… I…” Lazarus heard the man respond as he stopped pushing toward Jesus. Lazarus was suddenly afraid once more for his own life.
The dark skinned man dropped the pack he was carrying with him. “I will carry it for him.” The crowd opened as the man walked through them to Jesus’ side, hefting the massive cross from Jesus’ shoulder to his own.
“Thank you.” Jesus’ voice could barely be heard over the commotion of the crowd.
“Follow me,” the first soldier instructed as another cracked his whip on Jesus’ back as he stood, causing him to cry out.
Time stretched on and the sun moved through the sky as Lazarus followed the mob to Gol’gotha, the place where Jesus would be crucified. The soldiers whipped Jesus and beat him with the flats of their swords as they led him through the streets. At one point people came out of shops near the procession to heckle him and Lazarus watched as a cabbage was lobbed above him and thumped against Jesus’ head.
They passed through the worn walls of the city and wound their way slowly to Gol’gotha, which was a hill used for crucifixions. Its earth was clothed in sand and patches of tall grass, and at the top of the hill two crosses were already standing upright from the earth. A man had been nailed and strapped to each cross and each man’s skin was red with burn. Their faces were hardened with pain and tears had dried on one of the men’s cheeks.
“Raise the cross between them!” the lead soldier shouted and pointed to a hole dug in the earth between the crosses. The other soldiers hefted Jesus’ cross from the man who had taken it and laid it on the ground as the mob congregated over the hill, keeping their distance from them.
Lazarus stood by a thick bush toward the edge of the mass. He reached into a deep pocket of his robe and withdrew the remains of his bread, breaking it in two and turning away from the crosses and toward the sun in the distance. He lifted the cloth that covered his face, careful that no-one was watching, and ate the first chunk of bread. What am I doing here? There is nothing that I can do for him. My time has passed. He swallowed and placed the other chunk of bread in his mouth. But if nothing else I am here with him. That has to be worth something. He knows I am here.
A pained voice came from behind him. Lazarus tightened the cloth over his face and turned to witness the soldiers hammering long nails through Jesus’ wrists as the man was held down against the cross. His legs shook as the soldiers took them, braced them against the wood and pounded nails through his feet as well. The crack of bone sounded out and bile rose in Lazarus’ throat. He had never witnessed a crucifixion before.
Soon the soldiers hefted the cross with Jesus nailed to it and planted it in the earth. His arms were open wide to the world as blood dripped from his hands. Blood ran from the nails in his feet. One of the soldiers spat at Jesus and laughed with his fellow men.
As they watched Jesus in pain on the cross, sweating in the heat, a man stepped forward from the mob. “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!”
Jesus did not look to the man, but instead stared into the sun. Lazarus watched as blood flowed down where a thorn of the crown pierced Jesus’ head. The blood ran through his eye and down his face.
A short distance from Lazarus stood the chief priests and scribes. He listened to them mocking the dying man. “He saved others. He cannot save himself,” one of the chief priests said.
“Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe,” one of the scribes added and brushed sand from his crimson robe.
Lazarus moved away from them as they continued to talk. As time passed men and women approached the crosses to heckle Jesus and others, a few of his followers, approached him and begged him to save himself and come down. There were stones thrown at him and the soldiers beat his chest with their whips.
Lazarus closed his eyes and spoke to the Lord, and to Jesus if the man could hear his thoughts. Why do you let your son suffer? Surely the shedding of his blood can do no good for the world. He is your son. I know it, otherwise he could not have raised me from my grave. Lazarus opened his eyes and watched his bloodied savior as Jesus spoke with the men on the crosses at his sides. Look at him. He goes to death and still he speaks your words. Bring him down. Why would he raise me from the world beyond just to leave my side? He turned from Jesus once more and faced what was inside himself. He didn’t worry for Jesus out of fear for him but instead out of his own need to have reason for his life.
In that moment a darkness suddenly came over the sun, blacking out all light from the world and men screamed in fear.
“What is happening?” Lazarus heard a voice from where the chief priests were.
“It is Jesus!” a voice rang out. “He is taking us with him!”
Lazarus kneeled to the sand below him, feeling a warm breeze running through his robe as he made his way to the bush he knew was close by. His hand met its prickly branches. He huddled in the darkness and wind as people moved around the mound, speaking in fear and awe.
Hours passed. The people became silent, waiting for light to enter the world once more so that they could see.
4
Darkness consumed Lazarus as hours passed without light and almost without sound. The world around him had begun to cool as he huddled next to the bush, afraid to move, afraid to leave Jesus’ side.
Nothing, he heard nothing but the breaths of those around him in the darkness. They had all ceased speaking. He had heard Jesus speaking to the thieves on the crosses beside him but even Jesus was silent now.
What will happen to us? Lazarus felt the earth beneath him with his hands to remind himself of his existence. This darkness reminded him of the realm before Jesus had brought him back.
Then the silence was broken.
“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Jesus called out, bringing his anguished voice once more into the world, giving Lazarus something to focus on.
“Behold, he is calling Eli’jah!” another voice responded and a commotion began as someone ran toward where the crosses were.
Suddenly Jesus let out a loud cry that pierced Lazarus’ mind and a burst of light flooded the world, causing him to shield his eyes. As the light dissipated it was the brightest still where Jesus was. His head lay limp, propped upwards, his eyes pointed toward the sun.
“God have mercy on us!” someone cried out. “He truly was God’s son!”
There was a rumble in the distance like Lazarus had never heard as he stood. Then the earth began to move beneath him and he crouched low to the ground once more. It shook; causing people to call out in fear, and Lazarus heard a crack and looked to see the temple in the distance break at the top and come
crashing down.
Lord forgive us, he thought as he stood on the quaking ground, watching several buildings in the city crack and crumble to the streets. He could barely keep his footing but felt the need to flee this place. Lazarus was afraid of the soldiers and that they would discover him.
With a sudden greater quake of the land Lazarus tumbled to the earth and the cloth over his face fell loose exposing it as a kneeling soldier looked his way.
“There is Lazarus of Bethany!” the soldier shouted and stood, unsheathing his sword as he walked the moving land.
Lazarus’ heart raced and he stood, gaining his footing before running down the hill. As he fled toward the city the earth stilled and he looked behind him to see two soldiers following with their swords drawn. His feet slid in the sand as he moved. As he reached the city’s walls he leapt over a crevice that had been opened in the stone walk. His feet landed hard and he continued to move, running past people huddled next to buildings in fear and a child running through the street calling for his mother.
“Halt!” a soldier’s voice called behind him as he turned a corner. “Lazarus of Bethany, halt in the name of Caesar!”
His breath caught in his chest and he ran as hard as his legs could carry him down a narrow alley. His home wasn’t in Jerusalem. Where could he turn? He didn’t know anyone who would shelter him here. He turned another corner and almost hit a woman as she exited her home.
“What has happened to the temple?” a man’s voice called out of one of the weathered homes.
As Lazarus ran he remembered the path he had taken through Jerusalem when he first arrived and the patch of trees beyond Bethany where he hid the night before. The Lord protected me then. I will go there. Hopefully he will protect me now. Sweat ran down his back as he wove through Jerusalem’s streets and eventually along the route he had taken to the temple. After time his pace slowed and a cramp surged through his side. How much longer can I continue? He was on a long stretch of road and looked back as he ran to see if he was still being pursued. One soldier followed him a distance back.