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The Interrogation of Lazarus

by Jason Sanders
4/12/2007 / Short Stories

The crowd press is almost overwhelming as I seek to enter the synagogue. Through the roar of voices I can make out distinct phrases. "There he is! That is the one I was telling you about! You know, the one that was dead!" Then someone replied, "He does not look dead to me! You cannot believe everything you hear , you fool!" I make my way into the courtyard of the synagogue where a group of well-dressed men are waiting. When the noise finally subsides one of the men steps forward and asks,
"Are you the one called Lazarus?" I reply "Yes."

The men began to buzzing among themselves until finally the one that first addressed me held up a hand. At his gesture the other men immediately fell silent. "We have heard many things about you, Lazarus. The thing that troubles us the most is that you have been heard to blaspheme in the name of our God, telling everyone you have seen Him face-to-face!" I reply, "I am only telling about events that happened to me! I have not blasphemed my Lord!"

"Then tell us of the events, so that we can judge for ourselves if you are telling the truth," replies the Pharisee. He has a glint in his eye that makes me feel very uneasy. Sending a prayer heavenward, I began my tale.
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"Lazarus, wake up!" I crack open an eyelid to blinding light as I hear Martha's impatient voice. I try to sit up in bed but cannot move. All at once the pain in my body hits me as I realize something is seriously wrong with me. Martha's face moves from annoyance to concern as she bends over me and feels my forehead. "Your burning up!", she exclaims as she hurriedly leaves the room. She reappears after a short time with a washbowl and Mary in tow.

My sisters do what they can for me but as the day goes by I steadily get weaker and weaker. Finally, I hear Martha tell Mary to go find Jesus. I smile at the thought of seeing the Teacher, and I know that He will heal me, for I have seen Him heal many in the time that he has spent at our house.

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"Do you mean Jesus of Nazareth?", asked the old Pharisee. I think I heard someone call him Galamiel. That is what I will call him, anyway. "Yes.", I reply. "That Man teaches nothing but lies and blasphemies!" Galamiel stated, his voice rising in anger. "It has been said that His followers believe Him to be the Messiah! I would have Him brought to court today if possible! Well, go on with your story!"

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"Martha! I told Jesus about our brother but He just kept teaching some parable about a rebellious boy! I don't know if he is coming or not!" At this point I cannot keep my eyes open but I still hear Martha reply "He will come." Then, all of a sudden , everything went black.

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" I think that you just fell asleep!" said Galamiel. "Well, if I did, I woke up in a very strange place.", I replied.

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I woke up to what I can only describe as paradise. I do not remember much about it now but I do remember meeting David, Deborah, and even Samson. "Lazarus! Come here!" I looked at the speaker and somehow knew it was Abraham. I sat and talked with him about many things, including what to expect from the place I was in. At my questions, Abraham just smiled as if he knew some secret. "Look up!" he said. When I done so it was as if the earth above us was clear. I could see my house, and a large group of people crying and tearing their clothes. Then, their attitude changed when the most glorious Being I have ever seen entered my home. His eyes were as fire, and He was clothed in Glory. His snow-white garment was accented with gold, and a large gold crown rested on His head. Martha was the first to speak. "Jesus, I know our brother would not have died if You had gotten here in time." She spoke as if she could not see who she was talking to. As the party walked to my tomb, Abraham spoke up. "They don't recognize Him. They are still in the flesh."
I gasped as I saw tears began to pour out of His eyes. Then, I heard the Voice that spoke creation into existence call my name. "LAZARUS, COME FORTH!" Instantly, I was back into my body. I got up, and walked out to them, removing my burial wrappings. Jesus looked as He always had, but I knew Him and fell at His feet in worship.

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"Lies,Lies,Lies!" shouted Galamiel. I did not care. What are they going to do anyway, kill me?

I am 30 years old. I live in North Carolina and I write when I have inspiration. I have a beautiful wife and a spoiled Italian Greyhound named Cirrus. I love Jesus and hope that it shows in my stories.

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