Lazarus dug his feet into the street and made a hard turn out of the man’s sight. He was nearing the desert and knew he had to lose the soldier soon. He looked back once more and saw the leather armored man gaining on him, sunlight glinting off his drawn sword.
There is no way I can continue this pace, Lazarus thought as he eyed a row of doorways before him. There was seemingly no-one on the street but him and the soldier. He darted for a nearby door in hopes he would find a place to hide inside or a way to defend himself. Lazarus reached for the door’s worn handle and just before he touched it there was a heavy thump to the ground behind him and a scream of pain.
He turned to see the soldier who had pursued him on the ground with his sword protruding through his back. The man writhed, gurgling through blood in his throat as more blood flowed from where the sword’s blade rose through him. The man would not survive. He must have fallen and struck himself with his blade. Lazarus touched the door’s handle, then let it go and went to the man. I can’t leave him. Would that be what the Lord wants of us? Didn’t Jesus say we should love our enemies even when they strike against us? This man has a family.
“Be still,” Lazarus spoke to the soldier and looked around the alley but saw no-one else. The soldier’s eyes strained to see and he said nothing as his body convulsed when Lazarus lifted it in his arms. Lazarus dared not remove the sword for fear of killing the man. He walked toward the desert as the soldier’s blood stained his robe. Please Lord help me find what to do to help this man. Lazarus looked through windows in the alley homes. As he moved he noticed movement through one of the windows.
“I will leave you here. There are people inside this place who could help you,” he whispered to the soldier, uncertain if the man understood him. The soldier’s body convulsed again as Lazarus set him down on the home’s doorstep. “Good luck,” he told the man and rapped loudly on the door before running hard down the alley and ducking into a cut out area of the alley where there was a well.
“Murder!” a shout rang through the alley. “Someone has killed one of Caesar’s men!”
Lazarus heard the sound of doors opening and footsteps on the stone road. He looked down at his blood soaked robe and knew there was no escape. They will bring me to the temple, he thought before looking to the well with its crumbling rock base. There is only one chance. If I can hide in the well until nightfall...
He went to it, lifting his legs on its edge and then lowering himself into it as he clasped his hands on its stone insides. He braced tight with his fingers as he lowered himself into its moist belly. Lazarus hoped there would be some place to stand. Suddenly a stone broke free beneath his grasp, tumbling and making a splash in the water below as he re-found his grip. He breathed a deep breath. To fall into its water would give him away. After a while moving downward he found a thin stone ledge before the water and stood there, flattened against the well’s moist wall.
As he stood in the darkness, breathing in the damp smell of the well, Lazarus looked to the circle of light above and prayed he would see no faces there. The commotion in the streets above lasted a long time and his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he held to the wall with fear.
But daylight gave way to moonlight as hours passed and the commotion in the street gave way to silence. Lazarus could also hear the sounds of bats in the streets above.
With his hands going numb from their grip on the well wall, Lazarus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He looked above, watching the oval of moonlight as a cloud passed over in the sky. He had no grasp on time. I need to leave now. Surely I will be discovered if I remain here when the sun rises. He stretched his tense back muscles and then reached higher with his hands, taking grip on protruding stones. His fingers ached as he climbed slowly, being careful not to fall.
As he reached the cusp of the well Lazarus held his breath and listened for anyone who might be near. When he was sure it was safe he thrust one arm and then the other over the well’s top before pulling himself out of it. The rough stone tore a piece of his robe before he found the ground. He rested for a moment against the well before moving through the street’s shadows toward his destination.
The moonlight was bright and the stars clear overhead as he moved quickly on the stone roads. He knew he should head for the desert near Bethany where he knew the terrain and knew of a cavern cut out of a distant mountain where he could hide. But he could not leave yet, not without seeing for himself.
As he reached the outskirts of the city, looking past the stone wall toward Gol’gotha, hollowness filled Lazarus. He is not here, he thought as he slowly made his way beyond the city, alert at all times. He could see no-one on the starlit hill but as he neared it he noticed a cave tomb that had been unused the day before at the base of the hill. The tomb now had a large stone blocking its entrance and two soldiers appeared to sleep against the rock. There was a torch burning in a sconce by the blocked entrance.
Lazarus lowered himself, lying against the ground for a moment as he watched the soldiers, making sure they were asleep. Is this him? Surely they would guard no-one else. The men did not move and Lazarus stood once more. He walked toward the tomb. A shiver ran through him and he stopped, unsure he wanted to continue. It was no longer the soldiers he feared but instead it was Jesus himself.
There was a slight tremor in the earth and Lazarus found the courage to approach the tomb. He looked at the two slumbering soldiers and placed his hands on the cool stone covering the entrance. Torch light glowed around him as he breathed deep and closed his eyes.
Why? Why did you have to die? Couldn’t you have saved yourself and proved to the people who you were? He clenched the coarse stone with his hands. Why did you leave me? I am hunted because you returned me from death. I cannot return to my home, to my family. Why save me just to let yourself die? There was a moment of nothing, of bitter emptiness coursing through his soul. A tear raced down his cheek. “I would return this life to you so that I could die,” he whispered to the stone as he opened his eyes to the firelight.
There was a slight breeze and the torchlight flickered as Lazarus turned and walked into the desert. Its darkness wrapped around him. He moved through the emptiness of the world.
5
The day was long. Heat consumed him as Lazarus trudged across the desert in his blood stained robe, his face covered to protect him from the sun as his lips dried and cracked in the scalding sunlight. It had been hours since he had seen a city. Mountains rose up from the desert in the distance like a body lying flat on the land.
I will die in the heat and the desert’s animals will tear my body apart. He had intentionally walked into the open desert and was intent on death. I have no purpose in this world. Something is wrong with me. I should never have been raised from the dead.
Heat wove in ribbons across his sight and a gust of warm air blew through him as he dragged his feet through the sands and moved onward. Pain surged through his right kneecap and he fell, kneeling as his hands grasped the burning desert. “Lord,” he spoke before hacking painfully and spitting at the earth. “Let me die.” The liquid from his mouth evaporated into steam on the sand.
Nothing. There was no response. Did the Lord even care?
Lazarus lay flat on the desert and let the feeling of the sun’s heat consume him.
Time passed.
The sun crossed the sky.
The heat of the day raged on.
Lazarus’ stomach ached with hunger as he lay, feeling himself becoming one with the sunlight and earth. For a reason unknown to him, he kneeled and then stood.
He stared into the sun as it hovered and radiated above the distant mountain range. He wanted to look away but held its brilliant light. Then, in his peripheral vision a shadow rose on the desert’s horizon.
What is it? He stumbled forward. His legs carried him but his mind was falling away. An hour passed as heat ribbons wove between him and the shadow. It was coming toward him.
Is it a man? Lazarus squint
ed in the heat and wiped sweat off his forehead from beneath his head wrapping. The silhouette of the thing resembled a man for a moment before blurring in the waves of heat once more. Am I watching myself walking? Once I meet myself will my life be taken from me once more? He had forgotten what death had been like before. What had happened to him? Had that part of his mind been wiped bare?
His hands burned and he pulled them up in his robe as the silhouette moved and took a solid shape before him. It was not a man, but instead was an animal, he decided.
The thing’s head bobbed as it approached. Ears stretched like horns above its head and Lazarus could see grey fur on its form. It was emaciated and moved extremely slow. The ass lifted its head and met Lazarus’ eyes with its own.
“What are you doing this far beyond man?” he asked the creature as he kneeled and stretched his hand out for it to come to. He had no food to give the beast but at least could offer a comforting hand.
It was a moment before the ass reached him but as it did the animal let its head go limp in Lazarus’ palm. He could feel the beast’s bony jaw as he held the warm head. Its ribs pushed up against his skin and its skull was emaciated. It had a hollow stare.
“Where did you come from? You need to eat, to drink,” Lazarus spoke. He rubbed his free hand along its bony back. Lazarus looked over the barren desert. He had decided to die, to give himself to the land, but here was a creature that would perish without him. “I will find water for you,” he told it and watched as the beast’s hollow eyes looked to him. “Follow me.”
Lazarus turned the ass toward the way it had come once more, toward the mountains in the distance, and began leading it across the barren terrain. It was true that he did not know the distance to where water could be found but he knew the Jordan River lay somewhere in the direction of the mountains. There the ass would have water and possibly grass to eat.
He led the donkey for hours over the hot sand until the sun had set and the world was lit by moonlight once more. As darkness took hold, Lazarus lay on the cold earth near a large sand dune. The donkey lay close by and Lazarus watched it as it slept. Why do I care about you? You are only an animal. Surely if you died the world would not care. But he cared. And he knew he would have to continue helping the animal to survive.
Lazarus did not intend to sleep. He did not care about his body, but exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep in the cool desert’s embrace.
חַי
He woke mid day and was covered in a layer of sand. His cheek had become exposed in the night and was now burned and as Lazarus opened his eyes he saw the donkey standing. It watched him with its vacant stare.
Lazarus stood and shook the sand from his robe. He covered his eyes with his hand and looked toward the mountainous horizon. “We must be on our way.” With his words the donkey turned and the two companions walked side by side through the sweltering heat.
It was a long day and as he drudged forward, Lazarus watched the heat ribbons warping his distant vision. He had seen a city rising out of the desert’s dunes and a lush oasis only to realize moments later that neither thing was there. He had also seen a herd of horses running in the distance but convinced himself he had not seen those either. The donkey was his only true companion. It was the only thing he was certain about.
Then he saw it, like a great blue serpent weaving its way over the earth between him and the mountains. The sands gave way to more solid earth and he was sure the Jordan River was a distance off. Vegetation appeared to sprout up around its banks. Ribbons of heat made the river appear to move along the ground but he was sure it was there.
“Look.” He pointed out over the sands as he spoke to his companion. “The water will renew you.” As he looked to the mule the animal let out a moan and collapsed to the ground. “No...” Lazarus went to it and placed his hand on its ribcage. He was relieved to feel its heartbeat but there was no other movement in the animal. “I will bring you to the water,” he told it and pushed his arms through the sand beneath it, hefting it up in his arms and using all his strength to carry it onward to the river.
Lazarus barely thought as he moved but once he reached the vast river he laid the donkey gently in the grass near the rolling water’s edge. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the water. He enjoyed the cool water for a moment as it flowed over his hands and then brought it to the donkey’s mouth, letting it run over the animal’s lips.
After tasting the water the donkey moaned then moved its head as its tongue lapped out for more.
“Here, friend.” Lazarus returned to the river and brought more back for his companion. It seemed to rejuvenate the beast and soon the donkey found its footing and stood, going to graze on a nearby patch of grass.
The sun was setting and an orange hue illuminated the sky. Lazarus had decided when he entered the desert he would eat and drink nothing, he would simply let himself die, but after feeling the cool water on his hands his body yearned to consume it.
What do I do? If I had never met the ass then I would be in the desert still. With a moment’s hesitation Lazarus returned to the river, cupping his hands in its cool flow. He stared at the water as the currents wove over his fingertips. “I am weak,” he said and brought the water to his mouth, drinking it down in a gulp. Soon he had taken several more and stared at the water that dried on his hands. “Lord, what do you want of me? Show me what way to go.”
Lazarus sat down on the riverbank with the donkey beside him, watching the water churn and race down the river. That night he slept where he had sat, content while listening to the water rush by.
6
The sun had barely risen in the sky as Lazarus awoke. A pink hue danced across the clouds above as he lay, listening to the river burbling beside him. Where do I go from here? Do I stay with the ass? He sat and looked around for the beast and was surprised to find himself alone. The donkey was gone and there was no evidence of its tracks.
“Farewell, friend,” Lazarus said and braced his hands on his legs before standing and stretching his limbs. A warm breeze wove around him and he enjoyed its caress on his face. “Where do I go?” he asked aloud to no-one before noticing something wooden in the reeds along the bank. “What is that?”
Lazarus went to it, parting the thick reeds to find a worn, slim boat lodged in the bank. Sand had coated its inside and one of its seats was splintered with a crack running down its center. There was an oar lying amongst the reeds as well. Do I take the river? he wondered and grasped tight to the boat’s side before yanking hard on it and dragging it farther up the bank out of the reeds. Kneeling down, he pushed the boat’s side and rolled it over to empty out the sand. He dug his fingers beneath its overturned side and rolled it back upright. As Lazarus ran his fingers over its wind worn wood he examined its hull for holes. There were no openings in its wood.
He looked to the sun. What if I lie in the desert and let the sands cover me? What if I let the sun and the earth take my life now that the donkey is gone? He knew he could not though because somewhere inside him he felt a spark of life, of hope. Instead he grabbed the front of the boat and led it down to the water. He lifted the oar out of the reeds before stepping into the small boat and using it to push off into the Jordan River.
The boat bobbed as it hit the current and Lazarus stumbled before falling back and catching himself on the good bench. He held tight to the oar as he almost lost it, lifting it from the river’s strong pulse. What am I doing? I’ve only been out on a boat on a calm sea before. He thrust the oar into the lapping water as the boat ebbed toward the bank. He held it still and firm to redirect the vessel and as he began lifting and moving the oar through the water he was able to move it to the center of the river. It caressed the edge of a rock and the boat ebbed to the side.
I will follow the river down Israel’s edge to the Dead Sea. Surely there is no better place for me to decide my future than that. And there I hear the water is so thick with salt that I would be unable to drink it even if I wished t
o. If I am meant to survive then that is the place to test my fate.
The day moved slowly as Lazarus steered the small wooden vessel down the river. At first flat desert terrain stretched out beside him beyond the reeded banks, seeming to stretch out until the end of the world, but eventually the lands beyond were filled with grasses and trees marking the banks of the river, stretching their limbs out above him as he rowed.
Here boulders protruded from the river and Lazarus was forced to use all of his strength to keep his boat from crashing into them. He pushed off of the great stones with his oar and more than a few times was almost overturned. The sun was lowering overhead. His muscles seared with pain and his body was starved and dehydrated. Am I to die here? He shook as light and darkness danced across his vision. He could feel his weary consciousness failing him.
Lazarus’ hands went limp on the oar and it was braced against his legs as darkness consumed him.
חַי
He awoke to the dark of night and clear stars above twinkling through the blackness. Moonlight glowed through the clouds. Somehow his oar was still beside him on the boat. I must have passed out from exhaustion. He looked around and watched the moonlight reflecting off the river water. The river flowed lazily here. How did I survive? Surely I should have been killed by one of the river’s boulders. Lazarus lay back and enjoyed watching the stars pass by above. He was in no hurry. He had no destination, no desire.
חַי
As the sun rose on the horizon, its beams of light almost blinding his eyes, Lazarus lifted the oar and dipped it into the river’s steady currents. Trees sparsely grew up from the land on the river’s banks and through the trees Lazarus could see a city and a man guarding its entrance. Where am I? How far have I come? How close am I to the Dead Sea?