Happy Easter... Lazarus

Today I began reading another book of Morris West, The Devil's Advocate. On page 9 is the reflection about the post-resurrection life of Lazarus.

What did he felt at that moment? What price had he paid for this return to the world of the living? Did he go maimed ever afterwards, so that every rose smelled of decay and every golden girl was a shambling skeleton? Or did he walk in a dazzle of wonder at the newness of things, his heart tender with pity and love for the human family?

The description that follows is interesting. The protagonist, Blaise Meredith, is diagnosed with a terminal illness and the ultimatum issued by the doctor - another couple of months only. He is a priest for 20 years and here's his immediate reflection:

He had been twenty years a priest, vowed to the affirmation that life was a transient imperfection, the earth a pale symbol of its maker, the soul an immortal in mortal clay, beating itself weary for release into the ambient arms of the Almighty. Now that his own release was promised, the date of it set, why could he not accept it - if not with joy, at least with confidence?