He half turned. In the dim light of early morning, he saw the massive stone in its track, but it was five or six feet back from where they had left it after sealing the tomb, just as Mary had said. Moving slowly, he approached the entrance to the tomb. Then he stopped. He could hear Peter’s footsteps. They were faint, but they were coming, definitely slower than when they had left the Upper City.
The young apostle stooped down, peering into the deeper shadows of the inner tomb. He could see some white cloth there, but nothing else. He wanted desperately to step inside, to see what was there—or not there—but something held him back. He and Peter had been fishing partners for several years and were more like brothers than just friends. But Jesus had set Peter apart from the rest of them when he made him the chief apostle. There was great equality in that brotherhood of twelve, but unquestionably, Jesus looked to Peter to serve as their leader. So now, John held back. He would not go in before his leader.
He moved closer to the stone. Around the edge there was fresh cement, now torn and jagged. The tomb had been sealed, but the seal had been broken. That was a bit of a surprise. It would take more than four men to break the seal and roll it back. What had happened here?
Then the slap of sandals on gravel brought him around. Peter slowed to a walk as he came into sight, puffing hard. “Is he there?”
“I haven’t gone in,” John said simply.
Peter strode past him to the opening cut into the rock face. It was only chest high, and he had to stoop to go inside. Once inside, he stopped and uttered a low grunt. John couldn’t tell what that meant. He moved to the door, then went in as Peter stepped to one side.
The tomb was empty. Though the light was dim, John’s eyes saw that in an instant. From where he stood he could easily see into the small antechamber to the back and the chamber to the right. Mary had spoken true. Jesus’ body was gone. John turned to say something to Peter. Peter’s eyes were wide, fixed on something in front of him, and enlarging even as John watched.
John turned slowly and immediately saw it too. At the base of the wall of the inner chamber, a large protrusion of stone had been left jutting into the room. The top had been left in place to form a table for preparing the body, but beneath the table surface the stone had been hollowed out to make a place for the body’s final resting place. A stone slab would be fixed in place over the opening to seal the body in.
It was the top of the coffin that Peter was staring at. John saw the long splash of white. He had noticed it from the outside. It was the linen in which the body had been wrapped. Then, suddenly, he noticed something very odd. He took a step forward, but Peter’s hand shot out and stopped him. John wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t protest. His eyes ran along the length of the cloth, trying to understand what was bothering him about what he was seeing. His head shifted slightly to the right. At the head of the flat platform, but separate from the linen, was another cloth, this one much smaller. He recognized it as the square napkin, or face covering. The women had wrapped that cloth over the face and head of Jesus before they started wrapping the body. Now it was in a neat square and set to one side, as if someone had carefully removed it from the body, then folded it up before leaving the tomb.
And then, with a start that sent his heart racing, John realized what it was that had caught his attention. The linen used to wrap the body had come from a large roll brought by Joseph of Arimathea. As was traditional, the corpse had been completely encased in the burial shroud. John had been one of the men who had lifted the body so the women could pass the linen beneath it each time. Now the cloth lay flat on the stone table, still showing the overlapping pattern created during the wrapping. That was it! The linen had not been cut nor torn. It had not been crumpled as it was removed and tossed in one corner. The neat, overlapping folds were the length of a full-grown man.
His mouth slowly opened as the realization of what that meant sunk into his heart. It was as if the linen had been carefully wound around a bubble of air, and then the bubble had been burst and the cloth simply collapsed in on itself.
John turned slowly, his mouth agape. To his surprise, Peter was not there. John had been concentrating so intently on the cloth, he hadn’t heard his fellow apostle leave. He turned once more, staring at the cloth in wonder, then hurriedly backed out of the tomb.
Peter was just disappearing at a trot around the path that led out of the garden. “Peter!”
He stopped and waited for John to catch up to him.
“No one stole Jesus’ body, Peter. Did you look at that cloth?”
Peter’s eyes were like great mirrors, and John saw registered in them his own shock, wonder, fear, and puzzlement.
Peter started to say something, then just shook his head. “We have to tell the others,” he said. And with that, though he was still breathing heavily, he broke into a trot again.
IX
The Garden Tomb
Mary Magdalene had to stop when she reached the point where the path split. She was feeling lightheaded and dizzy, and her breath was becoming more and more labored. She had lost sight of Peter and John shortly after going back out into the street and quickly realized there was no way she was going to catch them. She finally faced the fact that she had to catch her breath or she was going to faint.
She stood there for several minutes, haggard, exhausted, drained beyond her ability to comprehend it any more. What more could happen? How much more horror and degradation and humiliation did they have to endure? She could sense she was very close to the breaking point but fought it back. She had to hold on until she had found Jesus. Hold on until she had cared for his needs this one last time.
She jerked up as she heard the soft murmur of men’s voices. A moment later, she gave a soft cry of relief. Peter and John were coming up the path towards her. They were hurrying but no longer running.
“Did you find him?” she cried, going forward to meet them.
Peter was sweating heavily, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then shook his head. “The body is gone, Mary.”
“No!” It was a strangled cry.
He glanced at her briefly, almost as though he had barely taken notice of her response. “But it’s all right,” he said, smiling.
John took her by the arm. “It wasn’t stolen, Mary.”
She just looked at him stupidly.
“It wasn’t the Romans, nor was it the Jews.” He glanced at Peter, who was moving away rapidly. “Come back with us,” he said. “We need to talk.”
She pulled free. “In a few minutes,” she managed, giving him a wan smile. “I just need a few minutes.”
John was clearly concerned but finally nodded. “All right, but don’t be long, Mary. We need to talk about all of this.”
She moved away, head down and shoulders slumped.
X
By the time they realized they had taken the wrong path in the semi-darkness, the seven women found themselves near the Damascus Gate, a good ten minutes beyond their intended destination. Irritated at themselves but glad for the increased light, they retraced their steps and entered the garden of Joseph of Arimathea. As they passed the stone fountain and heard the soft gurgle of water, Anna brought them to another halt. “How are we going to roll the stone back?” she asked.
They looked at each other in dismay. Why hadn’t they thought of that sooner?
Anna turned around. “Mary!” she called. She started forward, with the others falling in behind. “Mary, where are you?”
As the path opened up to the area in front of the tomb, Anna stopped in shocked surprise. “The tomb is already open.”
“Some of the men must have come after all,” Salome suggested.
They stopped about a dozen paces from the tomb, holding their breath. There was no movement, no sound other than the soft chirping of birds somewhere behind them. “Mary?” It was Martha this time, and it came out more hoarsely than she intended. “Mary? Are you in there?”
The stillness only see
med to deepen.
Deborah felt a prickling sensation run up her back. Maybe it was Mary they had heard running past them earlier. What had frightened her?
Joanna had come specifically to see if she might be a comfort to her friend, so when there was no response, she made up her mind. She pictured Mary collapsed in a heap over the dead body, weeping silently. She strode forward, trying to look far more confident than she really felt, and went inside the tomb. A moment later, her head reappeared. Her face was pale and her mouth open. She beckoned frantically for them to come.
As they rushed forward, the terrible news burst from her lips. “The body is gone!”
“Gone!” Martha exclaimed.
“Where’s Mary?” Anna cried, rushing to the opening and stepping inside. Joanna just shook her head. In a moment, all seven women were crowded inside, staring at the folded linen in the dim light.
Salome started to weep. “Where could it be?”
Deborah didn’t know, but she did know what they had to do next. “We have to tell the others.”
Miriam had been the last one to enter the tomb, and so she was the first one out. As she straightened, she let out a scream and dropped the jar of ointment she had in one hand. It shattered as it hit the ground. Where moments before there was only the muted light of morning, now the open area outside the tomb was flooded with a brilliant light. And two men were standing not five feet away.
Deborah was right behind Miriam. She jumped back. Then she, too, saw the men. She fell back against the outer wall of the tomb, one hand flying to her mouth.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead?” one of the men asked calmly.
Three things registered in Miriam’s mind at that instant. One was the dimly heard cries and gasps of those behind her. The other was that it had been the figure closest to her that had spoken. The third, and most vivid, was the voice itself. It was low and rich. Instead of terrifying her, suddenly she was filled with a marvelous sense of peace.
She felt Deborah clutching at her robe as she came up behind her. She didn’t turn. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes, Miriam gazed at the two figures who stood before them. They wore no sandals and were dressed in brilliant white robes. The cloth was dazzling, so bright as to hurt her eyes. Even the flesh of their faces was radiantly bright, like sunshine reflecting off the water. Then, as her mind finally realized what she had just seen, her eyes flew back down to their feet. They were standing in the air, a few inches above the stone floor in front of the tomb. It was as if they were statues placed on invisible plinths.
As one, the women fell to their knees, throwing their arms across their eyes.
“Fear ye not!” the voice commanded gently. “Be not amazed. I know that you have come seeking Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.”
Miriam felt as though every cell in her body was on fire. Every nerve was tingling, and she found herself almost too weak to raise her hands. But the fear was gone now. The voice was so calm, so remarkably filled with peace and comfort and consolation that the terror of moments before vanished instantly. She slowly raised her head, still shielding her eyes, but now only with one upraised hand. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the others doing the same.
“Why seek ye the living among the dead?” It was the figure nearest to her who spoke again. “Jesus is not here. He is risen. Behold the place where they laid him.”
He raised a hand and pointed toward the mouth of the tomb. The inside of the chamber was flooded with that same eerily brilliant light. It was so bright that Miriam could see with perfect clarity the chisel marks on the wall, the rear of the chamber that hadn’t been quite finished yet, the stone coffin on which the linen lay.
Feeling as if she was going to faint—or that she was so light she might lift right off the ground herself—she turned back. “Remember,” the angel said in that same wonderful voice, “remember how he spake unto you when he was yet in Galilee? Did he not say to you that the Son of man must be delivered up into the hands of sinful men and be crucified?”
Miriam nodded without even being aware she was doing so. Suddenly she remembered how David had once tried to explain to the family what it had been like when he and Benjamin had seen an angel that night on the shepherd fields of Bethlehem. Words had finally failed him as he tried to describe the indescribable. But now she knew.
She turned to Deborah, eyes wide with wonder. Immediately she saw that her mother-in-law was experiencing exactly the same feelings that Miriam was.
“Go,” the gentle voice said. “Go quickly and tell Peter and the disciples. Tell them this: ‘Jesus is risen from the dead.’” He raised one arm, then finished. “Lo, I have told you so.”
And then they were gone. As suddenly as they had come, the angels were gone.
For what seemed like an eternity, Miriam didn’t move. Then she heard someone nearby stir. One by one the women got to their feet, staring at each other, not knowing what to say. Miriam could feel her body trembling as if she had sprinted a great distance, and yet she wasn’t exhausted. She was exhilarated. This was the most incredible, exultant feeling she had ever known.
Anna was the first to speak. Her voice was trembling. She, too, was still half dazed. “Come,” was all she could think of to say. “We have to find Peter.”
Chapter Notes
All the Gospel writers agree that it was only women who went to the tomb that first Sunday morning to finish the burial preparations. But who they were and how many there were is not clear. Five are specifically named (see Matthew 27:61; Mark 16:1; Luke 24:10): Mary Magdalene; Mary, the mother of James; “the other Mary” (Matthew 27:61); Joanna; and Salome (whom many believe was the wife of Zebedee and the mother of James and John). Luke also indicates that there were other unnamed women as well (see Luke 24:10). The “other Mary” cannot be firmly identified, though it is possible that she is the same as the mother of James.
There is a discrepancy in the accounts that needs some explanation. John’s account, the fullest and most explicit, has Mary arriving at the tomb alone, yet the others say she went with other women. When she saw the empty tomb, she ran back and told Peter and John, who then came on the run to see for themselves. John tells us that he outran Peter. After they left, Mary returned, still alone, and there became the first human being to see the resurrected Lord (see John 20:1–18). Matthew tells us that the other women who came to the tomb eventually saw Jesus as well.
As noted several times before in this series, the Gospel writers were not recording a history, but their testimony of Jesus, and these discrepancies may be the result of considerable compression in the narratives. Some commentators suggest that what we have are two separate visits to the tomb by women. John emphasizes the visit of Mary Magdalene; Matthew, Mark, and Luke emphasize that of the other women (see Edersheim, Life and Times, p. 908; Farrar, pp. 660–61). The author took the liberty of using separate paths and different departure times to explain how the three different groups might arrive at the Garden Tomb without seeing each other and getting an updated report.
The scene in the tomb with Peter and John is based on John’s unique testimony: “Then cometh Simon Peter following him, and went into the sepulchre, and seeth the linen clothes lie, and the napkin, that was about his head, not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself. Then went in also that other disciple [John], which came first to the sepulchre, and he saw, and believed” (John 20:6–8; emphasis added). John does not tell us what he saw that brought that sudden understanding, but clearly there was something in the way the linen was arranged that convinced him that Jesus had been resurrected and not just stolen away.
Chapter 38
Why weepest thou?
—John 20:13
I
The Garden Tomb 6 April, a.d. 33
In the end, Mary Magdalene did not turn back to follow Peter and John. She continued on to the garden. She had pushed aside John’s comments, only feeling more confused than before. If the bo
dy hadn’t been stolen, then where was it? Who had it? If they found it somewhere, could they still take the ointments and the spices and do what they had first set out to do this morning?
She had no answers and so walked on, the tears coming afresh when she came to the great stone that was now rolled away from an empty tomb. For a long time she stood there, swaying back and forth as if in a quiet breeze, her thoughts far away. She was thinking of the day Jesus had come to her and with a word had driven away the darkness that had tormented her for so long. In one instant, light had flooded into her soul, and she had begun a new life—a life of joy, of meaning, of fulfillment, a life where Jesus was the center of everything she cared about.
With slow step, she finally turned and walked into the tomb. Perhaps she would just sit there for a time. Perhaps being where his body had last lain might give her some comfort.
As she stepped inside, the tears coming ever more freely, she gave a startled cry. “Oh!”
Two men dressed in white robes were sitting at both ends of the coffin. Through her tears, it looked as if the sunlight had somehow penetrated the gloom and fallen upon their clothing. The whole tomb was lit by their presence. She blinked quickly, but their images only blurred the more.
“Woman?” The voice struck her with great force, though it was not frightening in any way. It filled her with a sudden strangeness. “Why weepest thou?”
Confused by this sudden, unexpected development, Mary could think of only one answer: “Because they have taken my Lord away, and I know not where they have laid him.” A strangled sob rose up from deep within her.
Suddenly a movement out of the corner of her eye brought her head up. Outside the tomb, in the deeper shadows of an olive tree, a man stood watching her silently. “Woman?” he said quietly, “why weepest thou?”
It didn’t register that this man had asked exactly the same question as those inside had asked. This was someone different. He wore a common tunic with sleeves to the wrist.
“Whom seekest thou?”
A surge of hope shot through Mary. Perhaps this was the gardener. It was full daylight, and around the city, workers would be starting the day’s work. She exited quickly, the men inside forgotten with this new possibility. If he did work in the garden, perhaps he would know what had happened. “Sir?” She spoke softly, hopefully. “If you have borne him somewhere, tell me where he is, and I will take him away.”
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