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"I am from Iran," he said. "I think you are not from Cyprus."

I smiled at both the man's abrupt introduction and his unusual appearance. He looked like he'd just come in from bow-hunting deer in Idaho: dark-green coveralls, heavy boots, a bright orange stocking cap. He wore thick glasses and looked to be about 40 years old.

"Yes, I'm not from Cyprus," I told him. "I'm from America."

"America!" the man exclaimed. "I have an American nickname: Harrison. Like Harrison Ford. I made up this name because I like Harrison Ford, and I love America. In my mind, I think that America must be like Paradise. Is it wonderful to live there?"

"Well I wouldn't call it Paradise, but I like living there."

"I wish I could go to America, but I cannot get a visa. So last week I came here to Cyprus instead."

"Vacation?"

The Iranian scoffed. "For me, there is no vacation. I come here to fix satellites."

"Satellites?"

"Yes, that is my work. The police in Iran don't like satellites, so I have to come to Cyprus. There are many satellites in Larnaca."

Since I was quite certain Cyprus didn't have a space program, I decided to clarify. "What kind of satellites?"

"Satellites!" Harrison exclaimed. He pointed skyward and waved his hands around. "In Iran, the police say they are bad for women, so I have no work."

"How are satellites bad for women?"

"With a satellite, women can see too many things. They can see Dallas."

"Dallas?"

"Dallas! Julia Roberts! CNN! The police think women will forget their duty to Islam."

"Oh, right. You fix satellite dishes."

"And many other electronics. But Iran is not a good place for me to live or work. I hope Cyprus is better. Tell me, did you come to Larnaca for living?"

"No, I'm just here for a visit."

"A tourist! You come for the beach, or to see Lazarus?"

"What's Lazarus?"

"Lazarus. He was friends with Jesus. His tomb is here. Don't you read the Bible?"

"Of course, but I'm pretty sure his tomb should be in Israel. And it should be empty, since the story is that Jesus raised him from the dead."

"Yes, but after Jesus gave him life, Lazarus decided to come to Cyprus. If you wish, I can show you where is his tomb."

"Sure," I shrugged. "Let's see it."

As I followed the stocking-capped Iranian away from the beachfront, I couldn't help chuckling at the thought of Lazarus choosing to come to Cyprus (of all places) after his resurrection. I kept getting this mental image of a post-miracle press event at the open tomb in Bethany, with reporters shoving in to ask questions. "Lazarus," I imagined them saying, "Jesus just raised you from the dead after four days in the tomb -- what'll you do now?" And instead of Disneyland, Lazarus tells them he's going to Larnaca.

"Why do you smile?" Harrison asked me as we went down the winding back streets of Larnaca in search of the tomb.

"I'm just wondering why Lazarus came to Cyprus," I said. "I'm wondering what he did when he got here."

The Iranian shrugged. "He died again, I think."

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Lazarus or no Lazarus, I had never planned on going to the Mediterranean island of Cyprus in the first place. Originally, my plan had been to find a direct flight from Rome to Cairo. I'd soon discovered, however, that Cyprus Air offered passage to Cairo at less than half the cost of other airlines. The only catch was a 24-hour layover in Larnaca. Always a sucker for cheap airfare, I went for it.

The drawback to this was that I arrived in Cyprus without any idea of what I could see or do there. The tourist authority at the Larnaca airport gave me a stack of brochures, but it seemed self-defeating to spend much time studying them when I had only a day in the country. When I'd skimmed over the parts about how Larnaca featured the St. Lazarus Church, it never occurred to me that Lazarus himself might be there. The Iranian who called himself Harrison set me straight.

"Do you believe in Lazarus?" he asked as we made our way to the tomb.

"Well, I don't really believe he was raised from the dead after four days," I said.

"But his bones are here in Larnaca! Don't you believe in the Christian God?"

"I believe in God, but I also believe in a healthy dose of skepticism."

"What is 'skepticism'?"

"Skepticism is like doubt. A skeptic is someone who doesn't believe very easily. That's me."

"Do you believe in artificial blood?"

This question threw me a bit. "Artificial blood? Like in the movies?"

"No, in real life. The blood that people use."

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