The
following is written by Dr. Hood’s son, Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University
“Having said this, Jesus shouted
with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’
The dead man came out, his feet
bound and his hands tied, and his face covered with a cloth. Jesus said to
them, ‘Untie him and let him go.’”
(John 11: 43-44 Common English
Bible)
It was spring then, and little pink
blossoms peppered the almond trees while the olive groves slept and dreamed of
warmer summer winds. Passover was approaching, a time when the crowds of
Jerusalem would heave their way towards the Second Temple to slaughter the
sacrificial lambs demanded of each family. From their tombs on the eastern
mountain ridge the old kings and prophets stood a silent guard as the great
masses churned their way through the roadside veins of the countryside and the
alleyway capillaries of the city. Beneath their lookout lay the tiny hamlet of
Bethany, as inauspicious a community as could be imagined in the shadow of
God’s chosen city. In this place was a quiet and stillness unknown to the
commoners, soldiers, and merchants living and working nearby. To the east lay
the salty Dead Sea, to the west the fiery Jordan Valley, trapping the village
in these brief months in a constant crossfire of desert heatwaves and
Mediterranean rains. Imagine for a moment the tranquility of such a place: the
steam of rainwater baking on the rocks in the heat; the smell of roasted meat
and fresh bread mixed with the scent of new flowers; the comforting silence
born of the absence of human hubbub and busyness.
Bethany was a paradise in the shadow
of Jerusalem’s splendor, one that served as a figurative and literal retreat
for Jesus and his ragtag group of Jews in his final days. It’s mentioned no
less than five times in the Gospels, most often for lodging and eating with
friends and family, particularly the beloved sisters Martha and Mary. But we
also see it as a place of comings and goings: it was where Jesus prepared for
his entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and where he blessed the disciples
before the Ascension. Bethany was a place between places, a sanctuary for
preparations for bigger and better things.
How odd, then, that Jesus would
choose Bethany as the site for one of his most amazing feats, the resurrection
of his friend Lazarus. The Gospel of John lists it as the last of Jesus’ seven
signs or miracles, and none could have been more climactic or astounding. The
defeat of death! The pronouncement of a new life after life! The conquest of
cosmic entropy and emotional antipathy! Yet notice how Jesus took his time to
arrive in Bethany after learning about Lazarus’ fatal illness—the ease and
casualness with which he delays his departure for two days, with which he
teases his disciples with riddles about Lazarus falling asleep. When he finally
arrives in Bethany, it’s four days too late: Lazarus is dead. The detail of
four days is an important one—in that time Jews believed that a person’s soul
remained with their bodies for three days. If Jesus had come too early, his
raising Lazarus could have been brushed off as an improbable but not impossible
phenomenon.
And yet the four days proved nothing
before the hand of God as Jesus cried for his friend to come out of his tomb
still wrapped in his bandages. Imagine the fear and terror felt by the
disciples at such a sight! Imagine the joy and rhapsody! And most importantly,
imagine the surreality! Perhaps the most awe-inspiring feat of God’s power
since the sundering of the Red Sea for Moses or the consumption of Elijah’s
altar on Mount Carmel…and in such a podunk nowhere as Bethany! Jerusalem lay
less than an hour’s walk away and here was where Jesus broke the bonds
of death. It’s an important reminder of one of the great Christian truths—size
and worldly importance matter not to a God who can breathe life upon a
mountainside of graves. It is God who makes all things great and mighty, not
the designations of man. If a million angels can dance on the point of a pin,
then surely God can work wonders in a place overlooked and abandoned by most,
even the most insignificant little hamlet as Bethany.
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