33 C.E.

One of the things you wouldn't guess about immortality is that you can still get sick. As in, diseases that would kill most people still come for you. It had happened a few times since I left Rome, and each time I essentially "died", which seemed to kill whatever ailed me as well, then after a few days, I'd pick right back up where I left off. The risky part about all of this, though, is that when religious people found a dead body, they liked to do things to them, like burial, or entombment. It made the whole waking up a few days later part a lot less relieving than it should have been.

Apparently this is exactly what Mariam had done for me. I woke up a day (I think) ago in this tomb, with a stone before the entrance. The poor girl; I know she probably couldn't afford this kind of burial for me, but she always went out of her way to take care of me, even in death, it seems.

I left Rome after several more concerning battles with the Gauls. Pompey and Caesar began a civl war, and knowing that people would soon become suspicious of my agelessness, I decided the chaos was a perfect opportunity to leave town. I didn't feel entirely safe leaving the Empire proper, as I barely spoke any languages other than Latin, and outside the protection of the Roman forces, I wasn't sure I could remain discrete about my circumstances.

I had the option to go South to Aegyptus, West to Iberia, or East to Iudaea, really. North was out of the question, given my history with the Gauls. I had grown used to moderate climates, and as it was told by my fellow soldiers, Aegyptus stayed somewhat hot year round. Iberia was still a bit unsettled for someone who wants to lay low. Iudaea it was, then.

I made my way slowly towards Jerusalem, stopping in small villages along the way, sometimes for months or even years. I'd offer my services as a guard, help on farms, or whatever was in need without many questions in that area. I stocked up on funds and supplies over those times, and moved on, always Eastward; through Dalmatia, Moesia, Asia, Anatolia, Syria, and Phoenicia, I finally made it to Iudaea. I figured Jerusalem too large a town to risk hiding in, so I went just south to the town of Bethany.

Not long after getting there, I saw a young woman being harassed by some of the other townsfolk near the gates, though to this day I'm not sure why. Feeling a strange sense of pity for her, I decided to intervene. I pretended to be her brother and stepped up and asked the men what their quarrel with my sister was. They quickly changed their rambling to grumbling an scurried off. Since that day Mariam has treated me as though I truly was her brother. Unable to comfort her tongue around the name Alexander, she began just calling me Eleazar ("Close enough to Alezanner!" she pointed out.), then eventually Lazarus for short.

A few weeks ago I came down with some kind of fever, though. I'm still not sure what it was that brought it on, but it worried Mariam to no end. I tried to tell her (without giving myself away) that I would be fine, and that even if things got worse, I would just need a few days rest, maybe outside in the wilds to regain my strength. She insisted, though, that she call this man she knew who she believed could heal me. "Yeshua can help, Lazarus, I promise. Let me just send for him.", she pleaded.

Sensing that I might temporarily die soon, I had to try to leave for a few days, for fear of Mariam finding my body and having it buried. Dutiful as ever, though, she never left my side, and I unfortunately fell to the fever sooner than I thought I would. I suppose that's how I ended up in this tomb. I just needed to figure out how to get out now.

The stone door was unreasonably heavy, and no matter how I tried, I couldn't budge it. I sat, exhausted against the wall and thought. I couldn't die here, because I couldn't die. But I did get hungry, and thirsty. I could suffer here for a very long time before finding a way out. I couldn't panic, though. If my training in the Roman military taught me anything it's that panic was the enemy of the successful. I still felt weak from my recent death and rebirth, so, doing my best not to panic, I gave into sleep.

"Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?"

Someone was yelling on the outside of the tomb. I woke with a start at these words. Who could be here to yell at my grave? There were no shortage of holy men and proselytizers in this part of the world, to be sure. Did they think they could make a convert of my corpse, though?

Suddenly the tomb door began to move, and I jumped up to remain out of the way in case something dangerous had come for me. Surely it wasn't just one man who had come, after all, and for all I knew, this was a band of grave robbers. Then the same voice broke the silence once more.

"Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.", the man yelled. He spoke like a showman, someone not afraid or unable to draw in a crowd with a commanding voice and an interesting premise.

"Lazarus, come out!", he called. He knew my name, so I assumed it must have been someone Mariam had sent. I took my chances and slowly emerged from the tomb.

The man's eyes grew large in disbelief for a moment, then he regained his composure, and announced, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go." A few people suddenly swarmed to help me from my burial linens, but the man continued to stare at me as though something wasn't sitting right with him. Eventually, he spoke to me. "My name is Yeshua, Eleazar, and through my Father, I have given you life anew."

"Oh.", I replied.







At Mariam's house, after a fine dinner and celebration, Yeshua took me aside for a talk.

"Eleazar, I want to be honest with you. I did not expect you to walk through that door today. I have been traveling with my disciples for several years now, bringing the word of my Father to as many people as possible. I want to make this world a better place, and through God, I have tried to do that. There has not been a day in recent memory where the people I am trying to save have not disappointed me, though. I expected this request that Mariam made of me to fail. I expected to be seen as a liar and a fraud, and to have my Father's name ruined by my inadequacies. I openly cried before coming here, Eleazar. Please. You have seen, first hand, the experience of death, and have come back to tell the world about what lies beyond. I ask of you, Lazarus: what message did my Father send with you? Am I to keep teaching the people of this land?"

I looked at Yeshua for a moment and realized that he might possibly the most genuinely faithful man I had ever met. There was no doubt in him, as plagued the lot of us. To Yeshua, this God, his Father, apparently, was as real as the air he breathed and food he ate. In his mind I had been deceased and revived by this God, not some mysterious old man before an inconsequential battle nearly 80 years ago. I was of two minds.

My first inclination was to lie. Why not play along? What harm could come from letting this young man believe? He seemed to genuinely want what was best for the world and for his people. Why not let him have this miracle? I had met no shortage of leaders in my extended life, and none were so deserving of the trust his people placed in him as Yeshua.

On the other hand, I thought, what kind of person would lie to someone so full of compassion? If anyone deserved to share in my secret it was someone who had genuinely come to attempt to save my life, even after it had ended. "Yeshua, there's something I need to explain to you.", I slowly said.

After explaining my entire story, Yeshua sat silent for a while. "As I understand it, you are saying my Father came to give you this gift nearly 80 years ago?"

"Well...no. Maybe. I'm honestly not sure. I have never been able to say with confidence who that old man was.", I tried to explain.

"It was my Father, Lazarus. I am sure of it. Knowing this day would come, he prepared you for me so that he might bring this miracle to the eyes of the people when the time was right. I understand now. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"Yeshua...", I tried. "I....I don't see or feel anything when I temporarily die, though. I'm not sure that there is anything, in truth. Does that make sense? I don't know that anything comes....after."

"Well of course not, my friend. Our Father hasn't called you home yet. Why would you see anything after? He has simply given you a gift that will stand as a testament to his glory. We are here to save souls, Eleazar. That is the meaning of your gift."

I sat in silence for some time and considered what Yeshua had said. I wasn't sure how he could be so confident about this. I had seen a lot so far, as an immortal, and I had never seen anything that had made me so sure of anything as this man was about his God. He was convincing, to be sure. How could it be that only this man had this knowledge, though? It seemed more of a delusion shared by one than a mystery ignored by most. Who was I to discount the miraculous, though? I was a walking immortal who had died several times only to come back, remaining ageless for decades at this point. Perhaps he was right. Maybe he wasn't. I wasn't sure, but he was. Maybe that's all most people needed.

"What now, then?", I asked him.

"Now, I'll likely be killed.", he said calmly.

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, aside from the knowledge my Father gives me, I can feel the tension in the area surrounding my presence. Both the Temple and the Romans want me killed, and it's rare to find something that they are on the same side of. I won't make it hard for them, in truth. I just need a little more time. I think once Passover comes, I will be taken. It might be best for you to leave by then as well, Lazarus. The Temple will want you killed after today. They tend to take poorly to convincing reasons to leave the Tradition."

He wasn't wrong. I had seen unrest during Caesar's Civil War, and it wasn't unlike this. Yeshua didn't have the 13th legion behind him, though. He wasn't the kind of man to wage war, I felt, but if he'd had some protection, maybe he really could do some good in this world.

"Come with me, Yeshua.", I finally offered.

"Where to?", he asked.

"Well, you said you need some time. I'd wager you also need protection. I..."

"Eleazar, I am not ok with violence. I cannot be a part of a plan that will leave dead."

"I'm not proposing that, Yeshua. I am simply saying that I am in a unique position to help you. Remember, I used to be a Roman Centurion. I know how they march, how they camp, and most importantly, how to avoid them. Let me take you out of this town, to give you the time you need. I also need to get away, like you said. Why not aid each other?"

Yeshua smiled a pure and deeply loving smile at me, and nodded his head.

I packed the essentials, and left a pouch of gold with Mariam, and explained to her that it should be used for Yeshua upon his return. I don't know why, but I at least wanted his funeral to have some semblance of dignity. I instructed her to keep the rest for herself before leaving with my new companion.

"What did you tell Mariam?", he asked as we made it past the walls.

"To prepare for your funeral.", I joked.