This was no way for a prophet to end. Except for
a few women, courageous to the point of foolhardy loyalty, his followers—the
tax collector, the fisherman, the crowd-control experts, indeed the whole raft
of self-important male strategists and thunder-thinkers who attached themselves
to the prophet—fled as far from the scene as their uncertain legs would
carry them. –THOMAS CAHILL
They arose early that day, just before the sun's
rays gave birth to the post-Sabbath dawn. Gathering the spices they had
procured the previous night, they headed back to the tomb where just thirty-six
hours ago his lifeless body had been placed. As they made their way in the
dark, grief slowed their pace and limited their speech. It was still almost
incomprehensible that he was dead.
They had adored and respected him, this prophet
from Nazareth. He was wonderfully different than anyone they had ever
encountered. His kindness transcended gender; his rebuke targeted pedigree and
position; his teaching eclipsed rabbi and Pharisee. He, the friend of outcast
and sinner, was their present help and future hope. They had provided him food
and lodging and had often accompanied him on his travels. Then suddenly, in a
matter of hours, it had all fallen apart.
How brutal and unjust his death had been!
Standing a short distance from the executioners, they had seen and heard it
all—lacerations on his back and thorns in his scalp; spikes in his extremities,
a spear in his side; ridicule from all sides; the pleasure of his enemies and
the paradox of his compassion; the stripping of all clothing and dignity, at
least outwardly; the lament of his spirit at his Father's absence; the yielding
of his spirit to his Father's embrace; the decree of death, no bones broken;
the haste of burial, no spices applied.
Determined to finish the task, the three
women—Mary Magdalene, the grateful demoniac transformed by his healing and
message; Salome, the wife of Zebedee and mother of James and John; "the
other Mary," mother of James the Lesser (also one of the Twelve) and
possibly the aunt or cousin of Jesus—marched that morning through the shadow of
Golgotha toward Jesus' tomb, united in his death as they had been by his life.
Little did they know they were walking into the intersection of all history.
Not one of them in the least expected to be a player in the first Easter.
What if these women had not made that short
journey outside the walls of Jerusalem that day? What if they had remained in
isolation, paralyzed by fear and grief? Then they never would have seen an
empty tomb nor heard an angelic message, and Peter and John would never have
hurried to the tomb to confirm their story. The only firsthand account of the
grave scene would have been that of the Roman guard, and the Jewish leaders'
charge of grave robbery would have been hard to refute. Because of the devotion
of these women, just the opposite is true. Their testimony of an empty tomb and
a risen Lord contradicted Roman spin and gave Easter instant credibility.
May I ask you
something, Mary Magdalene? Isn't it possible that the disciples fabricated the
resurrection by stealing the body of Jesus?
“No! The
disciples were in hiding. They were clueless until we told them.”
Salome, some
people say the tomb was empty that morning because you women went to the wrong
site.
“That's
ludicrous! Two days earlier we stood there while Joseph of Arimathea placed
Jesus in that tomb. We knew where to go on Sunday.”
Then what
about the swoon theory? Is it possible, Mary, that Jesus was not really dead
when he was placed in the tomb and recovered enough to walk out on his own?
“No way! We
were at Golgotha. We watched him suffer. We heard the centurion pronounce him
dead. We witnessed the spear pierce his side. We observed his lifeless form as
he was carried to the tomb. And when we saw him on Sunday, he was not a
recovering victim but a resurrected Lord!”
Well, ladies,
couldn't it all just be a convenient story made up later, a Resurrection hoax?
Couldn't the early church have concocted the whole thing to convince others to
join the movement?
“Does our
story seem fictional to you? Do you think we could have come up with this on
our own? And why would the early church make up a story where women, especially
common women like us, were the first eyewitnesses? Wouldn't they have placed
someone at the scene other than a healed demoniac, a fisherman's wife, and a
female relative of the deceased?”
Then what is
your explanation of the Easter story?
“Jesus died on
Friday and was hastily buried in Joseph's tomb. We saw it all happen. When we
returned the morning after the Sabbath to complete his burial anointing, the
tomb was empty, and an angel told us that Jesus had risen. Then we ran to tell
the disciples. Peter and John came and verified an empty grave. Most glorious
of all, we were the first to see the resurrected Lord! That morning, we went
from grief and despair to joy and hope, and our lives have never since been the
same.”
One hundred years from now—unless the world
somehow ends in the interim—theologians, historians, and philosophers will
continue to debate exactly what happened the Sunday after Jesus died. New
arguments and evidence will emerge for and against the Resurrection. One thing
about the discussion, I assure you, will not change. Just as it has been every
day since that fateful morning, faith will cast the final and decisive vote in
the heart and mind of the individual.
Whichever side of the fence you now stand in
large part reflects your view of these three women. If you deny the
Resurrection story, you must believe that Salome and the two Marys were either wrong—themselves
malicious, mistaken, or mad—or wronged—misrepresented or misused by
others. For you, it will always be Saturday. But for us who claim the Resurrection
as truth, our faith rests not only in God and in Jesus, His Son, but also in
the integrity of Mary Magdalene, Salome, and Mary, mother of James. We
believers have followed these women through the darkness into Sunday's light.¹
1
The death of Jesus was a devastating blow to his followers. To them, the cross was not yet a symbol of victory but a gruesome, crushing loss. Read the four gospel accounts of Jesus’ death on Friday. Picture yourself as an eyewitness. Offer a prayer of thanks to Jesus for what he endured on the cross.
The death of Jesus was a devastating blow to his followers. To them, the cross was not yet a symbol of victory but a gruesome, crushing loss. Read the four gospel accounts of Jesus’ death on Friday. Picture yourself as an eyewitness. Offer a prayer of thanks to Jesus for what he endured on the cross.
2
The women’s devotion to Jesus was so strong that they risked their lives by going to the tomb that morning. What risks are you willing to take for him?
3
Sunday is the day we set aside for praise and worship. What did Sunday mean to those three women the rest of their lives? What does Sunday mean to you?
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