Silence. The wind brushed whispers against the trees of the garden. First stars appeared. A rabbit poked its head around a stem of hyssop. A gentle rustling of . . . what? From inside the tomb? In a moment, a man, or the figure of a man, wrapped in strips of linen pasted to his body with burial spices, stood in the doorway of the cave that served as a sepulchre. A murmur rose among those standing by. Breath arrested. Noises of fear mixed with joy. The figure of a man stumbled awkwardly, imprisoned by the wrappings, eyes blinded by the cloth around his face. The odor of death had evaporated. I could not help but think of the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, how that when they emerged from Nebuchadnezzar's burning fiery furnace, there was not so much as the smell of smoke on their clothes. All that remained here was the sweet smell of flowers and spices, the fragrance of life, not death. Jesus said, "Help him! Remove the grave clothes so the man can walk!"

In a stupefied trance, attendants mechanically completed this task, and Lazarus stood, naked as the day he was born, his skin fairly shining with life and vitality. His nakedness was only for a moment. His sisters, still recovering from the shock of what had just taken place, were frozen in their steps. Andrew quickly covered him with his own cloak. Jewish legend has it that before a child is born its soul has seen all of heaven and hell, of past, of present and future; but that as the Angel strikes it on the mouth to waken it into this world, all of the memory of those things pass from its mind and it awakes with no knowledge of anything. What was in the mind of Lazarus as he gazed into the eyes of Jesus on that wondrous day? I do not know. After what had just happened, further description of events is superfluous. I sat on a rock, my mind numb. I still cannot speak or write of it without the hair on my neck rippling rigid. My skin still shivers. I still gasp for breath.

Most of those who had come to visit the sisters and had seen what Jesus did had faith in him. But amazingly, the hearts of others were hardened. They ignored the voice of the Spirit as he spoke to them in answer to the prayer of Jesus. These went to the religious authorities and told them what Jesus had done. Predictably, they called a meeting. That is what religious authorities do. "What are we accomplishing?" they asked. It was obvious that they felt they were accomplishing nothing where Jesus was concerned. "Here is a man performing outlandish tricks the people consider miracles. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then Pilate and his thugs will come and take away both our authority and our political control."

Caiaphas the High Priest spoke up, "You are as ignorant of history as you are lacking in pragmatism! You know nothing at all! Don't you realize that it is better that one man die than the whole nation perish?" As it is with self-absorbed persons, it was Caiaphas who was ignorant. He was not remotely aware that he was speaking prophetically. Jesus would indeed die for the Jewish nation, and not merely for that nation but also for every soul in the entire world, in order to bring them together and make them one. Caiaphas had none of this in mind. Murder entered his heart and into the hearts of his lackeys.

It is a thing to be noted. From this day forward in the events of our Lord, in the resurrection of Lazarus, his own death was certified. From this day forward, the Jews began to lay their perfidious plans--plans that provided human history with its blackest day. Jesus seemed to sense this ominous specter, and because of the raising of Lazarus, we ceased to move among the Jews. Instead we withdrew once again to Peraea, near the village of Ephraim, where Jarud had found us. In my musings I wondered, Is it easier to raise one from the death and decay of the body, or is it easier to raise one from the hideous corruption of spiritual morbidity? What difference does it make as to which is easier, if it is true that both are raised?