Discovering Eliazar

Traditionally all great heroes must die a literal or figurative death and be reborn with a greater understanding of, and unyielding dedication to, their purpose.

What I needed was a heroic character on a mission.

I knew the journey would be a long one passing through a huge span of time. This guy had to have a basic humanity with an elevated sense of purpose to keep him going. His purpose had to be endowed with gravitas. 

The weight of it he would endure through centuries of loneliness, times of desperation with only moments of satisfaction, yet be willing and able to respond to his duty at a moment’s notice.

Out of necessity he had to disappear into the fabric of human society and pass unseen, unregarded, invisible, like a chameleon.  As he lives, he gains knowledge and experience in all arts.  He becomes aware of this impetus from his very inception a sort of real-life Zelig insinuating himself into human affairs to witness our growth and travails while remaining steadfast to his duty. This was the man I needed to find.

I grew up in a real 1950’s Judeo-Christian household. My father was Catholic from Bangor, Maine. He served in the Pacific in WWII. My mother was brought up in an Orthodox Jewish family from New Brunswick, New Jersey.

My father was introduced to my mother through her brother, my maternal uncle, at Plattsburgh Army Hospital after the war. Both men had been injured in combat. They met in the library, read the same philosophy books and discussed them. These two injured soldiers respected one another. One thing led to another, and the introduction was made and my parents married outside of their birth religion. Growing up I got it all from both sides and was left with both respect and caution for organized religion.

That’s how I discovered Eliazar ben Aharon; the man most Jews and Christian’s know as Lazarus of Bethany, raised from the dead by his cousin, the man we recognize as Jesus Christ.