Lazarus is an interesting figure in the Gospels. With the exception of Jesus Christ, he is the only other person to come back from the dead. But Lazarus is not interrogated about his experience. He is a tangential character in the broader narrative of the ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. The Gospel moves on, with no canonical follow-up on Lazarus. You have to wonder – what happened to Lazarus? What kind of life did he lead after being resurrected from the dead?
I have always been interested in stories about people whose lives were greatly impacted by the historical Jesus. Last year, around this season, I began writing a play for high school youth loosely based on the story of Barabbas, the criminal released when the crowd was given the choice between Barabbas and Jesus. Barabbas is a unique figure because his literal reality for what for all of us is a spiritual reality: Jesus took his place on the cross. In researching the play, titled Jesse Barabbas, I read a short novel by Swedish author Pars Lagerkvist titled Barabbas. There is also a movie starring Anthony Quinn with the same title. In the Lagerkvist story of Barabbas, there is a memorable episode where Barabbas seeks out Lazarus to learn more about Jesus. He meets with Lazarus at his home.
The Lagerkvist Lazarus was not what you’d expect. I figured Lazarus lived the remainder of his life in good health, a follower of Jesus grateful and joyful at the life afforded him by a profound miracle. But Lagerkvist challenges that idea – his Lazarus is dark and morose. Lazarus is almost a zombie, a man who should be dead but through divine power remains on the earth past his natural time. Tired and seemingly longing for the fate that was miraculously altered, Lazarus had no profound insights about life and death. He was living testament to Christ’s power, and proved to Barabbas that Jesus was indeed no ordinary man. However, instead of beholding the glory of God as Martha does when Lazarus emerges from the tomb, Barabbas struggles with a more complex figure. He sees a man like him, whose fate was altered by Jesus (although Lazarus in a much more supernatural way) who – also like Lagerkvist’s Barabbas – wanders the earth confused and perplexed by the mystery of God.
If I were to write a story about Lazarus, I would also complicate him like Lagerkvist, but not in the same way (indeed, my modern rendition of Barabbas bared little resemblance to his novel). The moment Lazarus dies, he immediately finds himself in the tomb, hearing Jesus’ voice commanding him to emerge. He has absolutely no recollection of the afterlife, something that festers with him for the remainder of his life. He wonders why he was not afforded a peak into the great beyond, but figures it was to prevent giving away its secret. But impulsively, with very little control, he continues to worry. In his second life afforded to him by the miracle of Jesus Christ, he has confidence in Jesus as a prophet and savior. But in his mysterious death he is filled with doubt – did he cease to exist? Maybe there is nothing in death, just vast nothingness.
Of course, this is all just imagination and speculation. There is no way to know what truly happened to Lazarus. So what’s the point of even thinking about it? The power of creativity in religious life and practice should never be underestimated. These stories, although fictional, can contain spiritual truth and teach us about our human condition. Looking back on the Lazarus story, the reason why I find him a fascinating figure – and why a fictional story line of him in doubt about not having any answers about death – resonates with me is because of my own doubts and anxieties about death. Inner contemplation or listening to someone else’s stories around death are two ways to learn and gain understanding, but I think that creating your own stories is a unique and powerful way of gaining spiritual insight.
So, what sort of life do you think Lazarus lived?
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