Dejected, Rejected

Lazarus died and Jesus had not come

Someone stepped up beside her and laid her hand on Maryam’s arm. It was  one of the servants.

 “He’s gone.”

A shriek of anguish pierced Maryam’s heart and she hurried inside to comfort the sisters. Already messengers were being dispatched to tell the news that the well-known, and loved, Lazarus of Bethany had passed into the great beyond. Soon the roads would be dotted with people hastening to be at the sisters’ side in their time of deep grief.

Martha shrieked again,
and this time Mary’am clearly understood the words. “Why didn’t He come? Why? I knew He loved us. Why did He abandon us in our hour of greatest need? “

 Mary’am knew it was Jesus the young woman was referring to, and she was perplexed also, but would never admit perhaps even a little resentful.

She was reaching out to Martha when a deep, shuddering moan nearly broke her heart. Mary! Dear, sweet, frail and keenly sensitive Mary. Who should she turn to? Who should she embrace first? Martha was right in front of her, but Martha pushed her away.

“No! Go to my sister! Mary is suffering more than I am!” Martha scurried outside to oversee the distastefully necessary, but oh so urgent embalming.

The two Mary’s clung to each other, both feeling so bewildered and forsaken, not only that Lazarus had died, but that Jesus had not come.