Bethany is mentioned neither in the Canonical books nor in the Apocrypha of the Old Testament; it makes its appearance for the first time in the New Testament, and is not named in Josephus. Its situation is relatively easy to determine. We know that it was on the road from Jericho to Jerusalem, at a distance of fifteen furlongs from the latter, lying thus on the east, or rather south-east side of the Mount of Olives. Origen asserts that in his time the position of Bethany was known. In the fourth century, the Bordeaux Pilgrim mentions a place where the “crypta” of Lazarus was to be seen. Eusebius records that “the place of Lazarus” was shown, and Jerome adds that it was two miles from Jerusalem.
The village still exists. As the traveller leaves Jerusalem upon the Jericho road, he arrives, after about half an hour's walk from the Damascus gate, which takes him into the Kedron valley, and then upward around the southern shoulder of Olivet, at the houses, grey, dilapidated, and not beautiful, of Bethany. Or he may take another line, and ascend Olivet to its summit, past the obtrusive structure of the huge Russian convent at the top of the road, and then find his way over fence and field to the minor hills of the eastward side of the mountain, where it looks down upon Bethany.
There is a charm about the surroundings, certainly when seen in spring, as there always is a charm over the rural landscape of that land of many-hued soil and of thronging flowers. But the villages of Palestine are seldom if ever in themselves pleasant to the eye, and certainly Bethany is not; actual or impending decay seems written upon its dwellings. Yes, but still it is Bethany. The immortal memories dignify and beautify it all. For, indeed, there is that wonderful peculiarity about the memories of Palestine, that they are memories and so much more. In Rome, and in Athens, our thoughts are with “the great departed” in “the silent land.” At Jerusalem they are with Him who was dead, but behold He is alive for evermore; His very name is life and hope; He is Lord of the future even more than of the past; He is, above all things, Lord of the present, “with us, all the days.”
There are particular times when the name has a particularly soothing music in its sound for the Christian. Whisper to him of Bethany, when he sits in his desolate home, and, wandering back through the past, thinks of a face that is vanished, a voice that is mute, and a sacred mound in the churchyard,-whisper to him then of Bethany, and his grief is assuaged, as he thinks that Jesus wept there, and his face brightens, as he gets a motto from the Lord's own lips which faith can inscribe on the tombstone, “I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” Whisper to him of Bethany in those moments of half-unbelief, when doubts and fears about the grounds of his religious opinions, and the reality of things unseen assert themselves-when suspicions which he thought had been shorn of their strength, rise again Samson-like, and, laying their hands on the pillars that support his hopes, threaten to shake the whole fabric into ruins; speak to him of Bethany then, and his faith again triumphs, as he sees Him who had been crucified rising up through the parting clouds into heaven to be alive for evermore, as His people's friend and guardian. Whisper to him of Bethany when he is wearied with his daily toils; when the wrinkles of anxiety come out on his brow; when losses, and crosses, and failures have made him peevish and morose; and he can enter the house of Martha and Mary, and sitting down at the feet of Jesus, have all his vexations dissipated, as he hears about the “good part that shall never be taken away.”1 [Note: G. Morrison, The House of God. 159.]
