Ever after is such a long time.”
She raised her face to mine and kissed me. It was as I remembered her kisses in my dreams. Sweet wine. Together. Never more to be parted. No more tears. No more sorrow. I wished never again to see the world from which we had come, nor to remember the suffering that had been our lives.
I closed my eyes and drank her in. Eliza and I held one another for what I imagined was a century or two. It was calm and still.
And then all of heaven fell silent. The ground beneath my feet trembled as sound like none I had ever heard penetrated the peace of our garden …
Chapter 30
Before he called me forth from the grave, Jesus wept. His was not the loud, frantic keening of the women who mourned outside my tomb. His was a sigh and a groan and a single, salty tear. It was, at first, almost imperceptible, even to those standing closest to him.
But his sigh shook the universe, and the place where I was quaked. I stood in the midst of those who watched and waited for all things to be set right.
Jesus groaned, and the heads of angels and saints turned to look down upon the earth in wonder. His tear trickled down his cheek, and a spring burst forth at my feet. Pure, clear water spilled from its banks and flowed down a mountainside, leaving a myriad of new stars, like flowers, blooming and rising in its wake. I remember thinking, On a clear night, constellations above the earth reflect on the still surface of the sea. But here? Only one of Jesus’ tears contains a galaxy.
My eternal companions and I listened. We heard his voice echo from Bethany across the universe! He commanded, “Roll away the stone!”
We all waited in anticipation for the next word from his lips.
Then Jesus spoke my name: “Lazarus!”
Surely he could not mean me, I thought. But all the same, I whispered, “Here I am, Lord.”
Centuries have come and gone since his holy sob ripped me loose from timeless conversation with the ageless ones. Ten thousand, thousand scholars and saints have asked, “Why? What made the King of heaven bow his head and cover his eyes and spill holy tears onto the earth? Why? Why did Jesus weep?”
When Jesus called my name, it echoed in my head. His voice raised a shiver along my spine. Why was my hearing suddenly so muffled? A moment earlier every sound had been bell-like in clarity. Now all was indistinct, as if I had fallen into a well.
Worse yet, why was everything dark? From brilliant, joyful light I had passed into all-encompassing blackness, deeper than the deepest night.
Why was I unable to move? I could feel my arms but not move them. I sensed my feet but could barely wiggle my toes. It felt as if someone were sitting on my chest.
The aroma of myrrh and spikenard flooded my nostrils.
What had happened? What was wrong with me?
I suddenly recognized what it was Jesus had commanded me to do: “Come out.”
He meant, “Come out of the grave!”
I was back in my body as it had been before the glories of paradise.
I was alive … but entombed!
As realization dawned, the emotion that overwhelmed me was not terror. It was sorrow. I had the most crushing feeling of disappointment and loss. Eliza! Eliza!
The only relief came in knowing that Jesus—Jesus!—had called me. To answer his call, to be with him again, was the only cure for my pain.
Rolling my body, I bumped futilely against a stone wall. The opening to the niche in which my corpse had been placed was on the other side of the slab. It felt as if Mary and Martha had enclosed a hundredweight of spices in the grave clothes. I could barely move! Lunging, I almost fell to the ground. My legs hit stiffly, propping me up only because they were tightly bound together.
Coins over my eyes had a metallic coldness. My face, wrapped in a cloth separate from the one that locked my arms across my chest, gave me a little freedom of movement to turn my head.
From which direction had Jesus’ voice come? Turning toward the memory of his call, I shuffled forward.
I heard shrieking cries. Mary? Martha?
Then I heard Jesus again: “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”1 Faster now, I moved toward his voice and reentered the world of men.
Jesus’ disciples Peter, James, and John, as