Lazarus
The "Rest" of the Story
Lazarus was the laziest human being on the face of the Earth. He took more naps than anybody. Always sleeping. Sometimes it was easy to think he was dead, because he would assume this supine position with his hands folded carefully over his chest.
“Watch your step,” Jesus would whisper to him, as if he knew something about Lazarus that Lazarus didn’t.
And then the next time any of us saw Lazarus, he was dead. And the next time that we saw him after that, he was alive again. And there were quite a few naps spread all around, I’m sure.
The whole raising Lazarus from the dead thing—everyone knows about that. Mary had roped Jesus into it. But you didn’t hear about this other guy—before Lazarus—-Gaius.
Gaius wasn’t down for just three days like Lazarus—no, he was stone cold dead a full week before his family literally attacked Jesus to do something. If you thought Lazarus stank…well…verily I say to you, Gaius was the quintessential stench-fest. Plus, he had died of pneumonia complicating cancer, so you had all of this infection and dead tissue, with a way-dead head start of pus and rotting before the rest of the body died. And on top of that, the guy was old—really old—about 50. In Galilee, that was old.
Oh, and the guy didn’t bathe while he was alive.
So Jesus got backed into this corner and had to try to revive this guy. The crowd of family and friends kept a respectable distance, but it wasn’t in awe of Jesus; it was in awe of the smell—aw-ful. It was Luke—Dr. Luke—who told Jesus to pass on this one—that he had declared the guy dead over a week earlier. The family had even divided up all of his possessions. Except a grandnephew—he got screwed on the deal.
He’s the one who fetched Jesus.
Jesus did it alright. The smell did bother him, though. He whispered to me that even God the Father could smell him. Jesus had a big nose—please, don’t even go there!—and he was able to get a double nostril-full. It’s the only time I saw him make an unkind face.
“Rise,” he commanded Gaius. “Sin no more.” He paused, shot everyone a look, then added, “Go, and stink no more.” There was applause. Thankful applause. “Reasonable, right?” he said to the family.
“Right, right,” they all murmured.
Gaius lived for another eight years, although he was a little stiff for the rest of his life. Jesus said it had something to do with things called amino acids and biochemical catalysts. Since there were no courses in molecular biochemistry available in Judea at the time, I had to take his word for it.
When our friends, Mary and Martha in Bethany, had sent word that Lazarus was very sick, Jesus sent the messenger back with the reply requesting they keep him informed.
I found this strange, because I know they were asking him to come by to see what he could do. I asked Jesus why, and he said he was uncertain as to whether to do it or not. He had a bad taste in his mouth over Gaius.
“Ar you certain you’re uncertain?” I asked.
“Decisively uncertain,” he replied. Meanwhile, Lazarus certainly languished, and within a day, he said, “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“Something’s up,” he said fretfully.
Something was up alright, but it wasn’t Lazarus, for a few days after that the same messenger returned with news of Lazarus’ passing and a request for Jesus to come and consider—if it weren’t too much trouble—raising him from the dead. Jesus thanked the messenger and told him to report back that Mary and Martha shouldn’t to worry.
“Certain now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied, “but indecisively.”
We set out for Bethany, as we were going to Jerusalem anyway, and it was on the way. But Jesus took a while to do it, teaching, curing, and forgiving sins along the way. To my way of thinking, being dead was probably more of an emergency than Jesus thought.
“Jesus,” I said—several times—“don’t you think we should get on over to Lazarus before he’s rotted right into the ground?”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Jesus replied. “Sleep is a gift from God. Let the guy sleep in. He would like that.”
Two days later we arrived in Bethany. There was Martha and Mary and about a dozen friends still keeping vigil. We approached with deliberateness, because he stank, even from outside the circle of the mourning And there were flies.
“Lots of flies,” I whispered to Jesus.
“He had flies when he was alive,” Jesus said back.
Bartholomew, a grave digger by trade, offered, “Lord, you want I should bury him. I think he’s done.”
Jesus approached and said to Mary, “Take the grave-clothes off him.” Mary looked at Martha who looked at Bartholomew.
“Maybe you should bury him, Bartholomew,” she said.
“Take the grave-clothes off him,” Jesus requested again, but firmly.
She tiptoed toward him, taking in one large breath before she did. She planned on living on this one breath the whole time she attended her brother. She lifted off the death veil that covered his face.
And then the miracle! Lazarus arose from the dead!
“Five more minutes?” Lazarus asked.
There ensued a stampede of terrified mourners from the wake site.
“That ain’t right,” said a stranger in the crowd.
“Yeah, this guy’s gotta be stopped,” said another. “And they’re gonna need to whack this guy Lazarus, too.”
“Again?” asked the first one.
“Yeah, again! That’s funny,” laughed the second man.
Later that evening, Mary and Martha made dinner for us and, unfortunately, Lazarus, who in spite of several scrub downs and cleansings, still sported a lot of peeling skin and quite the bouquet.
“Now you make sure everything works, Lazarus,” Martha said, “before you go wolfing down all of that meat and wine.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” he asked them back. “What? I could die?” And he laughed a wicked laugh—I mean really wicked, the only type of wicked laugh someone who’s been dead could laugh.
“Say, Lazarus,” I asked, “did you see a light when you were dead?”
“I didn’t see shit,” he confessed, and he swatted a fly.
“There’s a wakeup call,” Jesus said to him.
***
For Scoot’s Gibberish Flash Fiction Friday, August 15.
“Throw me somethin’, mistah” is a way to make a one-way tip. Or not.
Oops, Jesus forgot to tell him to "Stink no more,"
Sounds like Lazzie needs a dip in the Jordan, during the rainy season.