I stared at his face, the fire etching deep shadows under his eyes, hammering his cheeks, dancing on his heavy lids. Under this fire’s spell his head seemed to jump, appeared to be shifting angles quickly. Yet he was silent, tired from the day’s journey to Bethany.

          The sky unfurled with the threat of something, which would have been a welcome calamity for the desert as the stones still smoked from the day’s dry heat; the land laid exhausted and oven-hot, and the merciless sun baked even the dust on our feet to cinder.

          If the sky opened he might even sleep through the rain, or crawl back into that tomb he emptied that very day when he pulled Lazarus’ rotting arm into the blistering light; even the stones turned and took notice. The sisters embraced Lazarus, bathed the semi-conscious man throughout the afternoon in the healing pool, but his rancid flesh clung to him like bits of paper, imbued with a rotted stench. His eyes still laid deep in their holes, and he was miserably blind.

          Joshua wandered in the blanket of sleep – was it not best to leave the dead to eternity? Why cause a man to suffer again the agony of shedding this dustbowl and ragged organs? Maybe it was the most selfish of acts, for he knew Lazarus suffered unto death, but made no attempt to heal him before the grave. Had he not done more for the Centurion’s slave! But Lazarus, his friend, he let suffer and rot and finally die. But today Joshua used this shedding snake to make a point to those who leered. Now the once beautiful Lazarus’ skin pulls from its own body as if repulsed itself!

          And what did it all prove to the priests or the curious? The priests never questioned that the miracle could occur. They were just angered that he chose to do it on the Sabbath, and they condemned Joshua. Giving a leper hope is one thing – raising a dead man is exceptional. Had they ever witnessed such  remarkable fare ?

          Joshua, Yeshua, for the first time in his life, realized his days were numbered. He might as well have torn the sky and commanded the archangels to infest the earth. Lazarus was his best trick, and no one seemed to applaud. Now, in the corner of his room, Lazarus shrieks in mental decay, the rancid body keeping his loved ones at bay. His mind blooms, having known death and the beauty of heaven, only to have been dragged back into dread, to court fever and death again in the near future.

          Joshua’s eyes opened slightly, soaked with tears. At a distance, but still visible, he could see the fallen rock, almost smell the empty tomb. It called him. He saw the Praetorium, tasted the blood, shivered at the hooks tearing into his back. Those who did

not flee (he knew none of the faces) wept, then laughed.

          Truly he now longed for the quietude of the cleansing tomb, and prayed hard that no Messiah would ever drag him back into this world. The darkness of the cave is supposed to be eternal.