When they were back around the table he handed Lazarus the glass vial. You will have four hours of unconsciousness, so have the shrouds ready. To the women he said, ‘Only send word to the city when you’re sure of the effect, so that some may arrive in time to see the tomb closed.’ ‘Risky,’ Lazarus said. ‘What’s new,’ Mary replied.
The next four days Jesus spent in the Judean desert, as he had many times before. When word came by messenger that Lazarus had died the awful thought occurred to him that something might have gone wrong. But he fought the urge to go there and stuck to the plan. It would take him two days to mobilise his little army and make the journey back under less than a full moon. It was critical they arrived with hours of daylight in hand, so that their presence in Bethany would draw in the curious and the hostile from the city.
He took with him only Simon Peter, his own Mary, and James and John. A sombre Martha was waiting for them on the Jericho road, just out of sight of the village. ‘Mary needed to stay home to guard the house.’ she said. But as they approached the tomb Simon Peter ran ahead to fetch her.
Mary’s head and body were draped in concealing black cloth. Her stooped walk suggested tragedy. She lifted her veil a fraction and brushed her cheek, as if to wipe away a tear. Jesus’ doubts became indubitable fact: Lazarus had indeed died. His foolish self-confidence had again led him into another disaster of his own making. His own tears welled up and he let out a violent scream that engendered pity from all around. He looked towards his own disciples, all heads bowed, and at his own Mary, whose expression was of deep pity. Even the normally inscrutable faces of those he knew to be in the employ of the high priest were lowered in sympathy.
Jesus raised his eyes skywards. This was the biggest test of his faith he had ever been called upon to make. He fell to his knees and prayed, then slowly rose to his full height, motioning to his disciples to roll away the stone. Facing the aperture in the ground he shouted, ‘Lazarus, come out!’
A minute passed. There was a movement within the tomb. Shedding his shrouds, Lazarus emerged, blinking in the sunlight.
They had to help Jesus to the house, so great had been the effect upon him. Slowly the crowd dispersed, some returning to the city along the road, others walking over the summit of the hill of olives. One of the last to leave was a young priest called John, who had helped guide Jesus back to Lazarus’ house.
It was two days before Jesus’ fever abated. By that time his disciples, except Simon Peter, had returned to the Jordan valley. Afterwards, those well-wishers favoured enough to see him commented on the blazing conviction in his eyes and the fervour of his arguments. To some he seemed a changed man. Meanwhile Lazarus and his two sisters reflected upon their deceit. But as no harm had come of it – and Jesus’ standing had clearly increased – they chose to remain silent, knowing that to reveal the truth would be devastating. ‘An honest man knows not how to act,’ Martha had told Lazarus in justification, and there the matter had ended.
After six days had elapsed – with rumours of the Sanhedrin’s hostility towards him emanating from the city – Jesus, with Simon Peter and Mary, prepared to leave Bethany. His last act, in a session lasting well into the night, was to explain his teachings to Lazarus. But neither Jesus nor Lazarus was to know how instrumental this young man and his sisters would be in shaping Jesus’ destiny.
Paul threaded his way through the tables to where Maria was waiting. Her eyes were wide with mock expectation, her lips pursed with a hint of derision. He took the seat opposite her.
‘So what happened to you?’ she said.
‘Before or after they complained to the dean?’
‘Being caught in a tomb sounds rather pathetic to me. Was it worth it, did the walls speak to you?’
‘Perhaps they did.’
Maria sat up sharply. ‘That sounded serious! So what new insights can you give me?’
‘I dreamed. I can’t remember the details, but when the custodian came for me – he actually shouted at me to come out, would you believe – there was one thought uppermost in my mind. And it’s stayed with me since. It’s so bizarre I hesitate to tell it.’
‘I’m your best friend – in this place at any rate. I can handle anything.’
‘Between us, then? For the moment?’
She clamped her hand over her mouth in a gesture of promised silence. Paul saw it as the stifling of a laugh.
‘Let me say first that I don’t believe in miracles, biblical or otherwise,’ Paul said. ‘And I don’t believe half of Christendom does either.’
‘So the raising of Jairus’ daughter, and the young man from Nain – those were not miracles?’
‘I think Jesus allowed people to think so. As with the other miracles. I don’t think it was deceit – more a demonstration of power in the service of his God. True or not, such acts would have been impressive. But at the time he was not the only person making such claims, and they, too, were believed. He was not unique.’
‘So then why was the raising of Lazarus so special? You’ve said yourself it stood out as the greatest of all the… well… miracles – except, of course, for the resurrection itself.’
‘I believe that Jesus went to Bethany to perform a symbolic ritual act that would facilitate acceptance of what he believed would happen after his own death. A softening of minds, if you like.’
‘Go on.’
‘So when he went to the tomb he didn’t expect Lazarus to be physically dead.’
‘But that’s nonsense. We know from John’s gospel that Jesus was devastated to hear of Lazarus’ death when news reached him in the desert. And then showed real grief at the tomb before Lazarus emerged.’
‘As I believe was truly the case.’
‘But that could only mean that Jesus had been deceived, that somehow Lazarus or his sisters had deliberately allowed him to believe Lazarus had died. Why on earth would they have done that?’
‘So that Jesus’ response would have been accepted by everyone present as genuine grief.’
‘That sounds a wild theory to me,’ she said, smiling. ‘Now, I’ve got a lecture to attend. I’ll think about it and let you know, but don’t hold your breath.’ She got up to go.
‘Just hold on a moment,’ Paul said, taking her hand. ‘I believe also that Jesus never realised he had been deceived. He would have prayed to God in good faith and when that prayer was seemingly answered – by Lazarus emerging from the tomb – the effect on him would have been profound.’
‘I’m sure it would have been. But why, in that case, wouldn’t they have disillusioned him?’
‘To what advantage? To destroy a man who believed himself to be on the brink of realising his destiny? Though it must be said that they would have had no clear idea then of what that destiny entailed.’
‘Death on the cross, you mean?’
‘Exactly. So he would have left Bethany with any lingering doubts as who he was resolved – and his disciples no longer sceptical. If God had permitted him to bring Lazarus back from the dead surely he would have allowed Jesus to survive death also.’
Maria had become thoughtful. ‘It would certainly explain why Jesus’ belief in himself was so absolute when he returned to Jerusalem for Passover – for one last time.’
‘And maybe why Lazarus and his sisters were so hospitable towards him. How mixed their feelings must have been: hidden guilt for the past and elation at being part of his fantastic journey.’
‘We have a tea-club meeting coming up next month, and still lack a speaker,’ Maria said. ‘Why don’t you air your theory then?’
Which is what Paul did. But he failed to convince anyone there that the Saviour who was God’s son and saw everything, was capable to the least degree of being hoodwinked. ‘What you’re saying,’ said a wag in the audience, ‘is that Lazarus killed Jesus.’