'The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet
dark, unto the sepulchre, and seeth the stone taken away from the
sepulchre. Then she runneth, and cometh to Simon Peter, and to the
other disciple, whom Jesus loved, and saith unto them, They have taken
away the Lord out of the sepulchre, and we know not where they have
laid Him. Peter therefore went forth, and that other disciple, and came
to the sepulchre. So they ran both together: and the other disciple did
outrun Peter, and came first to the sepulchre. And he stooping down,
and looking in, saw the linen clothes lying; yet went he not in. 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, which came first to the
sepulchre, and he saw, and believed. For as yet they knew not the
scripture, that He must rise again from the dead. Then the disciples
went away again unto their own home. But Mary stood without at the
sepulchre weeping: and as she wept, she stooped down, and looked into
the sepulchre, And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the
head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And
they say unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them,
Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have
laid Him. And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw
Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith unto her,
Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing Him to be
the gardener, saith unto Him, Sir, if thou have borne Him hence, tell
me where thou hast laid Him, and I will take Him away. Jesus saith unto
her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto Him, Rabboni; which is to
say, Master. Jesus saith unto her, Touch Me not; for I am not yet
ascended to My Father: but go to My brethren, and say unto them, I
ascend unto My Father, and your Father; and to My God, and your God.
Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord,
and that He had spoken these things unto her.'--JOHN xx. 1-18.
John's purpose in his narrative of the resurrection is not only to
establish the fact, but also to depict the gradual growth of faith in
it, among the disciples. The two main incidents in this passage, the
visit of Peter and John to the tomb and the appearance of our Lord to
Mary, give the dawning of faith before sight and the rapturous faith
born of sight. In the remainder of the chapter are two more instances
of faith following vision, and the teaching of the whole is summed up
in Christ's words to the doubter, 'Because thou hast seen Me, thou hast
believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed!'
I. The open sepulchre and the bewildered alarm it excited. The act of
resurrection took place before sunrise. 'At midnight,' probably, 'the
Bridegroom came.' It was fitting that He who was to scatter the
darkness of the grave should rise while darkness covered the earth, and
that no eye should behold 'how' that dead was 'raised up.' The
earthquake and the descent of angels and the rolling away of the stone
were after the tomb was empty.
John's note of time seems somewhat earlier than that of the other
Gospels, but is not so much so as to require the supposition that Mary
preceded the other women. She appears alone here, because the reason
for mentioning her at all is to explain how Peter and John knew of the
empty tomb, and she alone had been the informant. In these Eastern
lands, 'as it began to dawn,' 'very early at the rising of the sun,'
and 'while it was yet dark,' are times very near each other, and Mary
may have reached the sepulchre a little before the others. Her own
words, 'We know not,' show that she had spoken with others who had seen
the empty grave. We must therefore suppose that she had with the others
come to it, seen that the sacred corpse was gone and their spices
useless, exchanged hurried words of alarm and bewilderment, and then
had hastened away before the appearance of the angels.
The impulse to tell the leaders of the forlorn band the news, which she
thinks to be so bad, was womanly and natural. It was not hope, but
wonder and sorrow that quickened her steps as she ran through the still
morning to find them. Whether they were in one house or not is
uncertain; but, at all events, Peter's denial had not cut him off from
his brethren, and the two who were so constantly associated before and
afterwards were not far apart that morning. The disciple who had stood
by the Cross to almost the last had an open heart, and probably an open
house for the denier. 'Restore such an one, ... considering thyself.'
Mary had seen the tomb empty, and springs to the conclusion that
'they'--some unknown persons--have taken away the dead body, which,
with clinging love that tries to ignore death, she still calls 'the
Lord.' Possibly she may have thought that the resting-place in Joseph's
new sepulchre was only meant for temporary shelter (ver. 15). At all
events the corpse was gone, and the fact suggested no hope to her. How
often do we, in like manner, misinterpret as dark what is really
pregnant with light, and blindly attribute to 'them' what Jesus does! A
tone of mind thus remote from anticipation of the great fact is a
precious proof of the historical truth of the resurrection; for here
was no soil in which hallucinations would spring, and such people would
not have believed Him risen unless they had seen Him living.
II. Peter and John at the tomb, the dawning of faith, and the
continuance of bewildered wonder. In the account, we may observe,
first, the characteristic conduct of each of the two. Peter is first to
set out, and John follows, both men doing according to their kind. The
younger runs faster than his companion. He looked into the tomb, and
saw the wrappings lying; but the reverent awe which holds back finer
natures kept him from venturing in. Peter is not said to have looked
before entering. He loved with all his heart, but his love was
impetuous and practical, and he went straight in, and felt no reason
why he should pause. His boldness encouraged his friend, as the example
of strong natures does. Some of my readers will recall Bushnell's noble
sermon on 'Unconscious Influence' from this incident, and I need say no
more about it.
Observe, too, the further witness of the folded grave-clothes. John
from outside had not seen the napkin, lying carefully rolled up apart
from the other cloths. It was probably laid in a part of the tomb
invisible from without. But the careful disposal of these came to him,
when he saw them, with a great flash of illumination. There had been no
hurried removal.
Here had been no hostile hands, or there would not have been this
deliberation; nor friendly hands, or there would not have been such
dishonour to the sacred dead as to carry away the body nude. What did
it mean? Could He Himself have done for Himself what He had bade them
do for Lazarus? Could He have laid aside the garments of the grave as
needing them no more? 'They have taken away'--what if it were not
'they' but He? No trace of hurry or struggle was there. He did 'not go
out with haste, nor go by flight,' but calmly, deliberately, in the
majesty of His lordship over death, He rose from His slumber and left
order in the land of confusion.
Observe, too, the birth of the Apostle's faith. John connects it with
the sight of the folded garments. 'Believed' here must mean more than
recognition of the fact that the grave was empty. The next clause seems
to imply that it means belief in the resurrection. The scripture, which
they 'knew' as scripture, was for John suddenly interpreted, and he was
lifted out of the ignorance of its meaning, which till that moment he
had shared with his fellow-disciples. Their failure to understand
Christ's frequent distinct prophecies that He would rise again the
third day has been thought incredible, but is surely intelligible
enough if we remember how unexampled such a thing was, and how
marvellous is our power of hearing and yet not hearing the plainest
truth. We all in the course of our lives are lost in astonishment when
things befall us which we have been plainly told will befall. The
fulfilment of all divine promises (and threatenings) is a surprise, and
no warnings beforehand teach one tithe so clearly as experience.
John believed, but Peter still was in the dark. Again the former had
outrun his friend. His more sensitive nature, not to say his deeper
love--for that would be unjust, since their love differed in quality
more than in degree--had gifted him with a more subtle and
swifter-working perception. Perhaps if Peter's heart had not been
oppressed by his sin, he would have been readier to feel the sunshine
of the wonderful hope. We condemn ourselves to the shade when we deny
our Lord by deed or word.
III. The first appearance of the Lord, and revelation of the new form
of intercourse. Nothing had been said of Mary's return to the tomb; but
how could she stay away? The disciples might go, but she lingered,
woman-like, to indulge in the bitter-sweet of tears. Eyes so filled are
more apt to see angels. No wonder that these calm watchers, in their
garb of purity and joy, had not been seen by the two men. The laws of
such appearance are not those of ordinary optics. Spiritual
susceptibility and need determine who shall see angels, and who shall
see but the empty place. Wonder and adoration held these bright forms
there. They had hovered over the cradle and stood by the shepherds at
Bethlehem, but they bowed in yet more awestruck reverence at the grave,
and death revealed to them a deeper depth of divine love.
The presence of angels was a trifle to Mary, who had only one
thought--the absence of her Lord. Surely that touch in her unmoved
answer, as if speaking to men, is beyond the reach of art. She says 'My
Lord' now, and 'I know not,' but otherwise repeats her former words,
unmoved by any hope caught from John. Her clinging love needed more
than an empty grave and folded clothes arid waiting angels to stay its
tears, and she turned indifferently and wearily away from the
interruption of the question to plunge again into her sorrow.
Chrysostom suggests that she 'turned herself' because she saw in the
angels' looks that they saw Christ suddenly appearing behind her; but
the preceding explanation seems better. Her not knowing Jesus might be
accounted for by her absorbing grief. One who looked at white-robed
angels, and saw nothing extraordinary, would give but a careless glance
at the approaching figure, and might well fail to recognise Him. But
probably, as in the case of the two travellers to Emmaus, her 'eyes
were holden,' and the cause of non-recognition was not so much a change
in Jesus as an operation on her.
Be that as it may, it is noteworthy that His voice, which was
immediately to reveal Him, at first suggested nothing to her; and even
His gentle question, with the significant addition to the angels'
words, in 'Whom seekest thou?' which indicated His knowledge that her
tears fell for some person dear and lost, only made her think of Him as
being 'the gardener,' and therefore probably concerned in the removal
of the body. If He were so, He would be friendly; and so she ventured
her pathetic petition, which does not name Jesus (so full is her mind
of the One, that she thinks everybody must know whom she means), and
which so overrated her own strength in saying, 'I will take Him away,'
The first words of the risen Christ are on His lips yet to all sad
hearts. He seeks our confidences, and would have us tell Him the
occasions of our tears. He would have us recognise that all our griefs
and all our desires point to one Person--Himself--as the one real
Object of our 'seeking,' whom finding, we need weep no more.
Verse 16 tells us that Mary turned herself to see Him when He next
spoke, so that, at the close of her first answer to Him, she must have
once more resumed her gaze into the tomb, as if she despaired of the
newcomer giving the help she had asked.
Who can say anything about that transcendent recognition, in which all
the stooping love of the risen Lord is smelted into one word, and the
burst of rapture, awe, astonishment, and devotion pours itself through
the narrow channel of one other? If this narrative is the work of some
anonymous author late in the second century, he is indeed a 'Great
Unknown,' and has managed to imagine one of the two or three most
pathetic 'situations' in literature. Surely it is more reasonable to
suppose him no obscure genius, but a well-known recorder of what he had
seen, and knew for fact. Christ's calling by name ever reveals His
loving presence. We may be sure that He knows us by name, and we should
reply by the same swift cry of absolute submission as sprung to Mary's
lips. 'Rabboni! Master!' is the fit answer to His call.
But Mary's exclamation was imperfect in that it expressed the
resumption of no more than the old bond, and her gladness needed
enlightenment. Things were not to be as they had been. Christ's 'Mary!'
had indeed assured her of His faithful remembrance and of her present
place in His love; but when she clung to His feet she was seeking to
keep what she had to learn to give up. Therefore Jesus, who invited the
touch which was to establish faith and banish doubt (Luke xxiv. 39;
John xx. 27), bids her unclasp her hands, and gently instils the ending
of the blessed past by opening to her the superior joys of the begun
future. His words contain for us all the very heart of our possible
relation to Him, and teach us that we need envy none who companied with
Him here. His ascension to the Father is the condition of our truest
approach to Him. His prohibition encloses a permission. 'Touch Me not!
for I am not yet ascended,' implies 'When I am, you may.'
Further, the ascended Christ is still our Brother. Neither the mystery
of death nor the impending mystery of dominion broke the tie. Again,
the Resurrection is the beginning of Ascension, and is only then
rightly understood when it is considered as the first upward step to
the throne. 'I ascend,' not 'I have risen, and will soon leave you,' as
if the Ascension only began forty days after on Olivet. It is already
in process. Once more the ascended Christ, our Brother still, and
capable of the touch of reverent love, is yet separated from us by the
character, even while united to us by the fact, of His filial and
dependent relation to God. He cannot say 'Our Father' as if standing on
the common human ground. He is 'Son' as we are not, and we are 'sons'
through Him, and can only call God our Father because He is Christ's.
Such were the immortal hopes and new thoughts which Mary hastened from
the presence of her recovered Lord to bring to the disciples. Fragrant
though but partially understood, they were like half-opened blossoms
from the tree of life planted in the midst of that garden, to bloom
unfading, and ever disclosing new beauty in believing hearts till the
end of time.