Bethany—today’s Al-Eizariya—sits on the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives, a few miles from Jerusalem. The New Testament says Lazarus was raised from the dead here. The Monastery of Saint Lazarus now stands on the same hillside.
The monastery doesn’t tower over the landscape. Its white stone walls and simple domes follow the traditional style of Christian sites in the Levant: low, sturdy, built to last. From the courtyard, the view stretches across dry, rocky hills with olive groves and scattered homes. Inside, the air is cool, broken only by footsteps or the rustle of wind through the garden. There are no grand decorations, just the quiet weight of history in every worn stone.
The story of Bethany begins before the monastery. The Gospels name it as the home of Mary, Martha, and their brother Lazarus, close friends of Jesus. After his resurrection, early Christians made the site a focal point. By the Byzantine era, churches and monasteries already stood here. Time and conflict erased most of those structures, but the memory of the place endured. Greek Orthodox monks rebuilt the current monastery in the 19th century over earlier ruins. Today, it remains active, overseen by the Jerusalem Patriarchate, drawing pilgrims who walk the same paths as those who witnessed the miracle two thousand years ago.
The heart of the monastery is the cave where Lazarus was buried. A narrow staircase beneath the church altar leads down into a small, dim chamber. The air smells of incense and damp stone. The low ceiling forces visitors to bend their heads. A marble sarcophagus marks the spot where the tomb once stood, its surface worn smooth by touch. Frescoes on the walls depict scenes from Lazarus’s life, their colors faded but still visible.
Nearby is another site tied to Lazarus: his tomb, revered by Christians and Muslims. In Islam, Lazarus is a righteous figure. His burial place is a quiet structure with a white dome. Inside, a simple room holds a niche where his remains are believed to rest. People of different faiths come here—some pray, others sit in silence.
Beyond the monastery, life in Al-Eizariya continues as it has for generations. The town is small. Its streets are lined with shops selling olive oil, spices, and handmade crafts. Children play in the alleys. Older residents sit outside their homes, watching the occasional tourist pass by. The call to prayer from the local mosque mingles with the sound of church bells.
Visiting the Monastery of Saint Lazarus isn’t like visiting a museum. There are no guided tours or souvenir stalls. Instead, there’s the quiet hum of a place that has seen empires rise and fall. You can spend an hour here or an entire afternoon, wandering the hills or sitting on a bench as the sun sets over the Judean wilderness.
The cave’s cool air carries the weight of centuries. The stones underfoot seem to remember every pilgrim who has knelt before them. Bethany is a place where history isn’t something you read about. It’s something you feel. Time slows here, letting you step into a moment that has been waiting for two thousand years.
