Lazarus is Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

remotely credible.’
    â€˜And if he comes to Jerusalem?’
    â€˜He wouldn’t last a minute, I promise you. He’s a provincial nobody. He has no idea how the world works.’
    â€˜And you’d teach him a thing or two about Jerusalem, wouldn’t you, Lazarus? How to overprice sheep and hide their blemishes. The secret shortcut to Lydia’s house. Are you trying to protect him?’
    â€˜I haven’t seen him for years. But I’d advise him to trust no one.’
    Lazarus had then registered what Isaiah was saying. How did he know about Lydia? He decided to carry on regardless, because his headache made him irritable. ‘Not even his disciples, not in Jerusalem. Trust no one here but me.’
    â€˜Yes, Lazarus, talk to me about the disciples. You’re his friend. Explain how it is that you’re not included in the twelve.’
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    Lazarus had confessed to their childhood friendship out of vanity. Not long after, Jesus had selected his disciples.
    â€˜I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.’ Mary was perfecting a wide-eyed look born of too much hope and not enough attention to housework.
    â€˜He’s making me look stupid.’
    â€˜Maybe he’ll pick you later.’ Jesus had chosen twelve, like the tribes. Lazarus was excluded, barely a friend of Jesus any more, and everyone now knew that and it hurt.
    â€˜Some people say he’s the son of god,’ Mary added.
    â€˜He’s the son of Mary. We grew up in the same house. You were there, remember?’
    The disciples were practically strangers to Jesus. Also, they were incredibly slow. They needed every story repeated, every lesson explained with exemplary images from their simple peasant lives.
    â€˜Fishermen,’ Lazarus said. ‘They carry around that smell. Rotting fish. In the webs between their fingers.’
    Lazarus was more worthy as a friend and ally. After synagogue he and Jesus used to play David and Goliath. Lazarus was Goliath so Amos could be David while Jesus did both the armies. At the climax of an epic battle, involving whatever weapons came to hand, Lazarus could die quite brilliantly.
    Death was always a shock to him, a slingshot out of nowhere right between the eyes. He stared blindly, appalled. His hands clasped his forehead, his body stiffened and revolved until, rigid, he keeled stone dead to the ground.
    They sat together, knelt together, ate together. The other Nazareth children were dullards, or girls. Unlike Lazarus and Jesus, none of them could appreciate the living excitement of the scriptures: there was always one hero missing, the one yet to come.
    â€˜Isn’t that right, Rabbi? The prophets know the story isn’t finished.’
    â€˜They know the future is more interesting than the past,’ Menachem replied. ‘Even when the past is fascinating.’
    The Rabbi was delighted by their application to the Torah. His eyesight was failing (glaucoma, trachoma, conjunctivitis), but he liked to bring his face close to theirs to feel whatever was exceptional about these two exiled boys from Bethlehem. He could never quite decide what it was.
    Lazarus felt he was special. It was common knowledge that he’d been reprieved from the massacre of the innocents, and around the time of his birth a star had shone brightly in the sky. Lazarus could run faster and swim further and climb higher than any boy in Nazareth, and he knew by heart the heroes from scripture responsible for making yesterday become today.
    He believed in heroism like he did in living forever. The great prophets of the bible were undeterred by obstacles. They rarely fell sick, but he was sure that sickness would barely intrude on their working day.
    Lazarus, however, has not lived the life of a prophet. As a young man he left Nazareth to work as a sheep trader to the Temple, but somehow he has stalled as an overseer living with his sisters in a semi-rural village. He had expected