Sick. So sick. Fever. Burning. Lips dry. They hurt. Light hurts. Moving hurts. Hot.
Cool cloth on my head. Water on my lips. Temporary. I hear, “Eleazar. Oh, Eleazar.” My name? Surely. Must be. Miryam? She speaks? No, Marta. Miryam. Both?
Pain. Can’t eat. Must sleep. Awake again. Sick. Never been this sick. Hours? Days? Just minutes? Don’t know. Don’t care. Let it end. Cool. Hot. Chills? But so hot.
Voices. People. Many people. Eleazar. Surely my name. Dying? Crowd here to see me die. Dying would be nice, right now.
Feeling better. No, worse. Lips hurt. Head hurts. Legs hurt. Clothes hurt. No, clothes can’t hurt. Clothes hurt me.
Yeshua. Hear name. He here. No. Gallil. Surely in Gallil. Would like to see him. Friend. Good friend. Miryam, feet, hair. Her hair. Lovely hair. Yeshua has hair. He has feet. Where is he? Oh, in Gallil. Hot. Cool in Gallil.
Dying? Yes, dying. Miryam, Marta. Love. Who care for you? Marta, Miryam.
Cool. Dark. Something is wrapped around me. I can’t see. No sound. Where am I? At least I no longer have the fever. It seems to have gone.
I don’t want to move. But I have to move. I hear someone call my name. Yeshua is calling for me. I must go to him. But where? Surely he is here, not in Gallil.
I hear a low rumble, like rock on rock. There is a crack of light, there on my right. It is getting bigger. Hands are pushing a rock and the light increases. I am in a small cave, with a rock blocking the entrance. A grave? Am I dead? No, I am alive; very much alive. I have never felt more alive. I feel…new.
I hear Yeshua calling, “Eleazar, come forth!”
I must go to him. He compels me. Was I dead? I was dying. Did I die? But then how could Yeshua be calling me? I am alive.
The light floods my cave. I am wrapped in grave clothes. I see them now. I was buried. I must have been dead. How long? But I have to get up and go to Yeshua. He is calling me.
It is hard to walk in these grave clothes. They just were not made to walk in. Of course not. What need has a corpse to walk?
The light is bright. After the darkness of the cave it hurts my eyes. But I hear a crowd.
I see him now. It is Yeshua. And Miryam and Marta beside him. They weep. Why? Yeshua comes and embraces me. Miryam and Marta won’t let me go.
Everyone is babbling. I hear snatches of conversation. “Dead four days.” “Raised from the dead.” “A prophet.” “No, Mosiach.” I see a friend on the edge of the crowd, a Sadducee. He was a friend, but why that look of hatred right now? Some people look fearful. Others are happy. From some, if looks could kill I would be dead again.
It is becoming more clear. I was sick. I died. Apparently that was four days ago. Then Yeshua came from Gallil. Apparently he was later than some people expected. He called my name, and here I am. Alive. That is why some will hate me. I am living proof (literally) of the resurrection. I am alive.
“Baruch ata Adonai. I AM ALIVE!”