“Gladly.” Lazarus removed the cloths from his hands and felt the warm breeze of the day flowing through his fingers.
“Can you leave today?” Barbacus asked. He walked in front of Lazarus, leading him back toward the Dead Sea’s shore.
Lazarus looked down at his own robe as he walked. “Yes. But there is a problem. My robe is stained with the blood of a man who pursued me in Jerusalem. Surely this would cause questions in Zeboiim.”
“I had wondered about the blood but you seemed a good man. I assumed you would tell me in time. Do not worry about your robe. Matthew has a spare. It is blue and is one of the most beautifully hued robes I have seen. He will need it no longer.”
חַי
At mid-day Lazarus thrust his oar into the sea, pushing off of the rocks and sand of the sea bed and gliding in his boat toward its center. When he was able to he held his oar firm in the water and adjusted his direction to move toward the white mountains in the distance, toward the far side of the sea where Barbacus assured him he would find Zeboiim and Thomas’ home along the city’s edge. In his royal blue robe he almost blended into the sea.
Lazarus felt like a new person somehow. I am a man on a journey, a man with purpose again. He admired the sunlight glistening off the aqua sea. He closed his eyes and saw the red of the inside of his eyelids as the sun pressed through them. Lord, please show me the way to rebuild myself. Give direction to me in my faith and life.
9
Lazarus approached Zeboiim, the fifth city at the end of the Dead Sea, as the sun set on the distant horizon. His arms ached from rowing and he felt as if his mind would collapse in on itself if he did not eat something. Dare I approach this place as darkness consumes the world? Surely there are eyes on me out on the water. It is wise to wait until morning to approach the city.
He stayed there, rocking on the faint current of the sea as darkness engulfed the world around him. As crisp starlight blanketed the water and his boat, Lazarus decided to row toward shore. He ran his worn vessel aground a short distance away from the city and dragged the boat behind an outcropping of large stones. Hopefully I will remain unseen, he thought while climbing back into the boat and lying down in it. He rested his head awkwardly against its good bench and pulled a cloth from his robe over his eyes.
חַי
Sunlight consumed his sight as Lazarus awoke. He squinted and brought his hand over his eyes to block the sun.
The air was dry.
He realized that he must have slept a good deal into the day because the exposed skin on his hands had begun to burn from the sun’s rays. I suppose I must move, he thought unwillingly and stood to look out over the outcropping of stones at Zeboiim. It was a city of merely a few dozen buildings but bustling with life nonetheless. “It is good to be near a city once more,” Lazarus said to himself while beginning to walk toward the place.
He was unnoticed as he approached the small city and wondered why no one was posted outside to watch for outsiders. Possibly Zeboiim and the other cities at the end of the Dead Sea are so far from other civilization they need not fear invaders. And possibly they know they have not the numbers to defend themselves if they were approached.
Soon Lazarus entered Zeboiim on a salt-stone road that was worn from the passage of time. He walked slowly, looking from building to building, wondering where he would find this Thomas he was looking for. Barbacus said his home was near the shoreline. Lazarus eyed the strip of buildings in that direction.
A woman suddenly burst past him carrying a large load of goods in a basket. She eyed him suspiciously as she passed.
“Unclean!” a man shouted at him from a distance down the road.
Lazarus remembered that lepers were required by law to shout ‘unclean’ when they walked the streets of Jerusalem.
“That man is Matthew, the leper!” the man shouted through the streets as others turned to watch him.
Lazarus removed the wrapping covering his face. “I am not a leper!” he called out to the man and others in the street who were closely watching him now. “Look! I have no sores on my skin!”
“Unclean!” the man shouted again as Lazarus halted, not knowing what to do.
They think I am Matthew because of his robe. How do I prove to them that I am not? It is inhuman how people with such a horrible disease are treated.
“Sir!” a hushed voice called to him from a nearby home.
He turned to see a short, thin man standing in its doorway. His body was frail but there was strength in his eyes.
“Come quickly! They think you are a leper and will not tolerate you here!”
With a moment’s hesitation Lazarus turned and ran toward the man, disappearing inside his home.
“You are not Matthew.” The small man set a thick board into a metal brace on the door, locking it closed. “You are not afflicted by his curse. How did you come across his robe?”
Lazarus removed the cloths that were wrapped over his forehead and sat down in a wooden chair at an old table close by. “Matthew has died and his robe was given to me. Are you Thomas, the man who brings the lepers food?”
The frail man retrieved a loaf of bread and brought it toward Lazarus, giving him half. Its rich smell was in the air. “I am him, and I feared Matthew’s death as soon as I saw you. I do not know if you know, he was my brother.”
Lazarus was at a loss. He held the half loaf of bread in his hands for a moment, feeling the firm roughness of its crust. “His death has brought him peace with the Lord.”
“I do not doubt that, and yet his death pains me. As I have said, he was my brother. How do the others fare? I have meant to bring them supplies for many a night but the crops of those who trade goods in Zeboiim have been sparse and it is becoming harder to find men willing to barter with a supporter of lepers.” Thomas took a bite from his own half loaf of bread.
Lazarus held out a hand and touched Thomas’ own. “At least you try. That is all they can ask. And the Lord cannot ask more than a man’s best efforts and the strength of his heart.” There was a moment of dense silence. “To answer you, Barbacus fares well and Nicholas appears to waver between alertness and submission to his disease. I have been sent by them to see if you were alive and, if so, see if I might bring what goods you have to them.”
“I have a small portion of what I usually do,” Thomas told him while walking through a doorway leading to another room, “but I am glad to give what I have.”
Lazarus looked to the still uneaten half loaf of bread in his hands. He had not eaten since Jesus’ death and wondered how he survived. This is better used if given to the lepers. He stared at the bread, salivating, as Thomas reentered the room. The man had two cloth sacks filled with goods. Lazarus looked up and watched him. “My bread should go to them as well.”
“No. You are my guest, and although you are not afflicted, you are a man and you must eat. This is my gift to you. If I had wine I would give it to you as well but there is only water here.” He dipped a cup into a large pot of water and brought it to Lazarus, setting it on the table near where he was sitting.
And yet you give me the gift of nourishment, Lord, when I would turn it away. A purpose to live and serve you builds in me. “Thank you. It means so much,” he told the small man while breaking the bread and bringing a piece to his mouth. The richness of its grain was good and he felt his body tingling with its taste. “May I stay the day with you and leave at nightfall? I do not want to be seen leaving the city.”
“Of course, I would be glad to have your company and you are wise to wait for dark to leave. There are those in the city who believe lepers to be possessed and who will stop at nothing to prevent us from helping them.”
Lazarus finished his bread and water. He spent the remainder of the day resting and telling Thomas all he knew about the world outside Zeboiim.
חַי
There was a chill in the night air as Lazarus left Thomas’ home with the two bags slung over his back.
“Farewell. Tell Barbacus I will come with more supplies when I am able,” the small man whispered to Lazarus before shutting his door and leaving him on his own in the starlight.
Lazarus looked up and down the street but saw no-one. Watch over me, he prayed and walked quickly down the salt-stone road, out of the city toward the rock outcropping where he hid his boat. Cool wind blew through Lazarus’ robe and curled over his body.
It must still be there, he thought while approaching the outcropping of rocks concealing his ship. He breathed a relieved sigh as he walked beyond the rocks and saw crisp starlight illuminating the small wooden vessel. Lazarus dropped the bags inside it and dragged it down the beach to the sea.
For a moment he stopped there, staring out at the vast body of water, admiring how it reflected the moon and stars like a mirror back toward the sky. “Will the sea reflect me up to you as well?” he spoke softly while pushing the old boat into the water and climbing in. He grasped his oar in his hands, dipped it into the substance and pushed off, adrift once more on the sea of the dead.
10
As he rowed his boat toward the shore where the lone stone structure stood, Lazarus heard a low howl echoing through the wind. He had rowed through the night, resting little, and now the sun rose, dancing a red hue from the east across the sky.
“Barbacus!” Lazarus shouted as he neared land. “Barbacus, I have returned! With me are two bags of goods from Thomas of Zeboiim!” THUMP! His boat ran aground and he stood, stepping out into the low waters and dragging the small vessel up the beach. “Barbacus!” he shouted again. There was no reply.
With what little strength he had in his arms after rowing through the night, Lazarus hefted the heavy bags of goods over his shoulders and plodded toward the structure. The door was open as he approached.
“Barbacus!” he called out for a third time, and as he neared the building’s door he was stunned to see neither Barbacus nor Nicholas inside. Even the beds and cloths were gone. The building was bare. “My Lord, what is this?” he asked aloud and was greeted by a warm flow of air that then left him chilled in its wake.
He dropped the bags inside and walked back out into the sunlight. With a hand over his eyes to block the sun he scanned the beach. What or who took them from this place? They would not have had the strength to move the beds on their own. For hours he searched the beach and the salt caves lining it for the lepers but discovered no sign of them.
It’s as if they’ve vanished. He returned to the stone structure and sat in the middle of its bare floor, hoping for their return. Hours passed and a great cold went through his body as the sun began setting outside. I will leave the bags for them in case they return. Lazarus stood slowly, letting pain burn through his muscles as feeling returned to them.
It was cold outside as he left the structure and made his way down the beach to the boat. “Where do I go from here?” he wondered aloud. “Where can I be of use?” He grabbed the corner of the boat and dragged it into the Dead Sea before wading out and stepping into it. It rocked as he used his oar to push off further into the water.
Lazarus did not know where he should go, and so as darkness came he rowed toward the center of the sea. He stopped, bringing the oar inside the boat, and stared at the moon above. He stood for a moment in the boat, closed his eyes and kneeled. Lazarus clasped his cold hands together in front of him. Why is everything in my life taken from me? Am I not to have a purpose? Why can I not give of myself to the lepers? The boat rocked gently beneath him. And more than anything I want a family, friends. Why are these things denied to me? It is cruel, what you force me to endure. I cannot die, and yet I also cannot live.
There was no reply, from God or any other thing.
I am alone. Lazarus opened his eyes and stood as a tear raced down his face. “Why, Lord? Why do you punish me?” he shouted out over the sea. He took a deep breath and sat in the bottom of the boat, leaning against its good bench and staring up at the stars. I will not wipe the tear away. I will let it dry on my face to remind me I am alone. He closed his eyes and tried to let his body rest.
Moments later as Lazarus was taken by sleep something furry emerged from beneath his bench, perching on the boat’s side, watching him with its beady eyes.
11
Darkness.
A fog swam over Lazarus’ mind. He could make out light and dark silhouettes before him as he moved. Where am I? A sudden burst of light blinded him. He covered his eyes to protect himself. What is that? The smell of grass and flowers filled his senses. He opened his eyes to see a rolling field of green.
Baah, a sheep bleated nearby, but as he turned to look he could not see it.
“What is this place?” He held out his hand as a group of butterflies flew near and one of them came to rest on his fingertips. Wasn’t he just in a boat moments before? The memory was foggy and he chose not to recognize it.
Baah, a sheep’s call came again.
Lazarus was curious and began to follow the noise. The butterfly flew from his fingers as he turned and began walking across the luscious green field. He looked but could not see the sheep. Whose is it? he wondered and went toward a group of trees in the direction the sound had come from. Soon he was there and passed through them into another open field.
Baah! Baah! The noise echoed around him.
“Where are you, sheep? Have you wandered from your flock?”
Baah!
Lazarus turned toward the noise quickly and began running toward the edge of the clearing in search of the creature.
Baah! The lamb’s call was ringing in his mind. Something inside of him told Lazarus that the creature needed him. It needed him to guide it back to its master. Where is the noise coming from? Where am I? As he stood at the edge of the lush clearing all noise instantly halted and all wind ceased its flow. Lazarus squinted in the sunlight and saw a man entering the clearing through the trees that lined its edge. “Have you lost your sheep?” he called to the man across the field. “I have heard them calling for you!”
As the man neared, Lazarus sensed a familiarity with him, but could not remember how he knew him. The man’s flowing brown hair rested on his shoulders and there was a look of depth and love in his eyes. “Jesus, is it you?” Lazarus asked softly in disbelief. Sheep started to come toward them from the trees along the edges of the clearing.
“Hello, Lazarus,” Jesus spoke.
Lazarus kneeled before him and Jesus motioned for him to rise.
“These sheep,” Jesus motioned to the fluffy white animals coming toward them, “this flock is yours. Shepherd over them, care for them and teach them about me and the Lord, my father. Always remember that if one sheep strays you are to bring it home in your arms and warm it with God’s love.” He embraced Lazarus and held him tight in his arms. “I will not let you go, brother. Our father will not let you go. Have faith in us and find strength in his arms.”
Baah! Baah! sheep called around Lazarus as a thick sunlit mist flowed over his sight. There were brilliant silhouettes with wings before him as his mind was taken away from the place.
12
Lazarus awoke with a startle in the middle of the night. Something warm was curled up on his lap. He could feel its breaths through his clothes. He didn’t dare move until he knew what the thing was in case it was something that could do him harm. How in the world did it get here? He could make out its fur in the moonlight.
For a few moments the creature rested peacefully and then it suddenly looked up at him and made a high trilling noise. Its claws dug through his robe to his leg and it jumped and scurried quickly to the far end of the boat. The creature made loud grunting noises while moving its jaws as if chewing.
Lazarus watched it, half amused and half in fear because he knew he was now stuck with the creature on the boat with him. He couldn’t send it overboard and let it drown in the sea. That wasn’t in his nature. “Are you a rock-rabbit?” he asked the thing as it grunted and glared at him angrily. The thing must have s
nuck aboard while I searched for the lepers.
For a long moment the two held still while the angry faced creature with stubby ears ground its teeth and grunted at him. Then there was silence and tenseness as the boat rocked on the sea.
“It’s alright. I will not harm you.” Lazarus held his hand out toward the creature as it bared its teeth, making its high trilling noise. “Then you keep your side of the boat and I will keep mine.” He lifted up the oar and dipped it into the sea, moving the vessel toward the far off shore with his strokes.
Night passed on and Lazarus pondered his furry friend as it glared back at him in the moonlight. He realized this was a strange companion, but somehow was grateful for the company.
חַי
As the sun met its highest place in the sky the next day Lazarus still rowed. Sweat streamed down his back and his hands burned and were stiff from gripping the oar. It is so far off. He watched the far side of the sea over the sleeping creature’s body. It’s as if I row and row, yet never move. I know I will reach the other shore, but when, and how will I fare when I arrive? He drew a deep breath of the thick, salty air around him and pressed his oar into the sea once more.
The day went on and Lazarus focused on the sea’s glimmering horizon.
חַי
Night was around him again as Lazarus awoke from a period of slumber. Moonlight blanketed the boat and the beady eyed rock-rabbit stared at him from its perch on the broken bench opposite him. “You are awake? You slept most of the day.” He smiled at the animal.
It was peculiar, the furry creature began to make trilling noises once more, but this time it was almost as if it created a beautiful melody with its noises.