'In the end of the Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward
the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the
other Mary to see the sepulchre. 2. And, behold, there
was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord
descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the
stone from the door, and sat upon it. 3. His countenance
was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow:
4. And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became
as dead men. 5. And the angel answered and said unto the
women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which
was crucified. 6. He is not here: for He is risen, as He
said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. 7. And go
quickly, and tell His disciples that He is risen from
the dead; and, behold, He goeth before you into Galilee;
there shall ye see Him: lo, I have told you. 8. And they
departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great
joy; and did run to bring His disciples word. 9. And as
they went to tell His disciples, behold, Jesus met them,
saying, All hail. And they came and held Him by the
feet, and worshipped Him. 10. Then said Jesus unto them,
Be not afraid: go tell My brethren that they go into
Galilee, and there shall they see Me. 11. Now, when
they were going, behold, some of the watch came into
the city, and shewed unto the chief priests all the
things that were done. 12. And when they were assembled
with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large
money unto the soldiers, 13. Saying, Say ye, His
disciples came by night, and stole Him away while we
slept. 14. And if this come to the governor's ears, we
will persuade him, and secure you. 15. So they took the
money, and did as they were taught: and this saying is
commonly reported among the Jews until this day.'
--MATT. xxviii. 1-15.
The attempts at harmonising the resurrection narratives are not only
unsatisfactory, but they tend to blur the distinctive characteristics
of each account. We shall therefore confine ourselves entirely to
Matthew's version, and leave the others alone, with the simple
remark that a condensed report of a series of events does not deny
what it omits, nor contradict a fuller one. The peculiarities of
Matthew's last chapter are largely due to the purpose of his gospel.
Throughout, it has been the record of the Galilean ministry, the
picture of the King of Israel, and of His treatment by those who
should have been His subjects. This chapter establishes the fact of
His resurrection; but, passing by the Jerusalem appearances of the
risen Lord, as being granted to individuals and having less bearing
on His royalty, emphasises two points: His rejection by the
representatives of the nation, whose lie is endorsed by popular
acceptance; and the solemn assumption, in Galilee, so familiar to
the reader, of universal dominion, with the world-wide commission,
in which the kingdom bursts the narrow national limits and becomes
co-extensive with humanity. It is better to learn the meaning of
Matthew's selection of his incidents than to wipe out instructive
peculiarities in the vain attempt after harmony.
First, notice his silence (in which all the four narratives are
alike) as to the time and circumstances of the resurrection itself.
That had taken place before the grey twilight summoned the faithful
women, and before the earthquake and the angel's descent. No eye saw
Him rise. The guards were not asleep, for the statement that they
were is a lie put into their mouths by the rulers; but though they
kept jealous watch, His rising was invisible to them. 'The prison
was shut with all safety,' for the stone was rolled away after He
was risen, 'and the keepers standing before the doors,' but there
was 'no man within.' As in the evening of that day He appeared in
the closed chamber, so He passed from the sealed grave. Divine
decorum required that that transcendent act should be done without
mortal observers of the actual rising of the Sun which scatters for
ever the darkness of death.
Matthew next notices the angel ministrant and herald. His narrative
leaves the impression that the earthquake and appearance of the
angel immediately preceded the arrival of the women, and the
'Behold!' suggests that they felt and saw both. But that is a piece
of chronology on which there may be difference of opinion. The other
narratives tell of two angels. Matthew's mention of one only may be
due either to the fact that one was speaker, or to the subjective
impressions of his informant, who saw but the one, or to variation
in the number visible at different times. We know too little of the
laws which determine their appearances to be warranted in finding
contradiction or difficulty here. The power of seeing may depend on
the condition of the beholder. It may depend, not as with gross
material bodies, on optics, but on the volition of the radiant
beings seen. They may pass from visibility to its opposite, lightly
and repeatedly, flickering into and out of sight, as the Pleiades
seem to do. Where there is such store of possibilities, he is rash
who talks glibly about contradictions.
Of far more value is it to note the purpose served by this waiting
angel. We heard much of a herald angel of the Lord in the story of
the Nativity. We hear nothing of him during the life of Christ. Now
again he appears, as the stars, quenched in the noontide, shine
again when the sun is out of the sky. He attends as humble servitor,
in token that the highest beings gazed on that empty grave with
reverent adoration, and were honoured by being allowed to guard the
sacred place. Death was an undreaded thing to them, and no hopes for
themselves blossomed from Christ's grave; but He who had lain in it
was their King as well as ours, and new lessons of divine love were
taught them, as they wondered and watched. They come to minister by
act and word to the weeping women's faith and joy. Their appearance
paralyses the guards, who would have kept the Marys from the grave.
They roll away the great circular stone, which women's hands,
however nerved by love, could not have moved in its grooves. They
speak tender words to them. There by the empty tomb, the strong
heavenly and the weak earthly lovers of the risen King meet
together, and clasp hands of help, the pledge and first-fruits of
the standing order henceforth, and the inauguration of their office
of 'ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for ... heirs of
salvation.' The risen Christ hath made both one. The servants of the
same King must needs be friends of one another.
The angel's words fall into three parts. First, he calms fears by the
assurance that the seekers for Christ are dear to Him. 'Fear not _ye_'
glances at the prostrate watchers, and almost acknowledges the
reasonableness of their abject terror. To them he could not but be
hostile, but to hearts that longed for their and his Lord, he and all
his mighty fellows were brethren. Let us learn that all God's angels
are our lovers and helpers, if we love and seek for Jesus. Superstition
has peopled the gulf between God and man with crowds of beings;
revelation assures us that it is full of creatures who excel in strength.
Men have cowered before them, but 'whether they be thrones, or
dominions, or principalities, or powers,' our King was their Creator,
and is their Sovereign, and, if we serve Him, all these are on our
side. The true deliverer from superstitious terrors is the risen Christ.
Again, the angel announces in simplest words the glorious fact, 'He
is risen,' and helps them to receive it by a double way. He reminds
them of Christ's own words, which had seemed so mysterious and
had turned out so simple, so incredible, and now had proved so true.
He calls them with a smile of welcome to draw near, and with him to
look into the empty place. The invitation extends to us all, for the
one assurance of immortality; and the only answer to the despairing
question, 'If a man die, shall he live again?' which is solid enough
to resist the corrosion of modern doubt as of ancient ignorance, is
that empty grave, and the filled throne, which was its necessary
consequence. By it we measure the love that stooped so low, we
school our hearts to anticipate without dread or reluctance our own
lying down there, we fasten our faith on the risen Forerunner, and
rejoice in the triumphant assurance of a living Christ. If the
wonder of the women's stunned gaze is no more ours, our calm
acceptance of the familiar fact need be none the less glad, and our
estimate of its far-reaching results more complete than their tumult
of feeling permitted to them.
No wonder that, swiftly, new duty which was privilege followed on
the new, glad knowledge. It was emphatically 'a day of good
tidings,' and they could not hold their peace. A brief glance,
enough for certitude and joy, was permitted; and then, with urgent
haste, they are sent to be apostles to the Apostles. The possession
of the news of a risen Saviour binds the possessors to be its
preachers. Where it is received in any power, it will impel to
utterance. He who can keep silence has never felt, as he ought, the
worth of the word, nor realised the reason why he has seen the Cross
or the empty grave. 'He goeth before you into Galilee; there shall
ye see.' It was but two complete days and one night since Christ had
said to the disciples that He would rise again, and, as the Shepherd
of the scattered flock, go before them into Galilee. How long ago
since that saying it would seem! The reasons for Matthew's omission
of all the other appearances of our Lord in Jerusalem, with the
exception of the one which immediately follows, and for the stress
he lays on this rendezvous in their native Galilee, have already
been touched on, and need not detain us now.
The next point in the narrative is the glad interview with the risen
Jesus. The women had been at the grave but for a few moments. But
they lived more in these than in years of quiet. Time is very
elastic, and five minutes or five seconds may change a life. These
few moments changed a world. Haste, winged by fear which had no
torment, and by joy which found relief in swift movement, sent them
running, forgetful of conventional proprieties, towards the
awakening city. Probably Mary Magdalene had left them, as soon as
they saw the open grave, and had hurried back alone to tell the
tidings. And now the crowning joy and wonder comes. How simply it is
told!--the introductory 'Behold!' just hinting at the wonderfulness,
and perhaps at the suddenness, of our Lord's appearance, and the
rest being in the quietest and fewest words possible. Note the deep
significance of the name 'Jesus' here. The angel spoke of 'the
Lord,' but all the rest of the chapter speaks of 'Jesus.' The joy
and hope that flow from the Resurrection depend on the fact of His
humanity. He comes out of the grave, the same brother of our mortal
flesh as before. It was no phantom whose feet they clasped, and He
is not withdrawn from them by His mysterious experience. All through
the Resurrection histories and the narrative of the forty days, the
same emphasis attaches to the name, which culminates in the angel's
assurance at the Ascension, that 'this same Jesus,' in His true
humanity, who has gone up on high our Forerunner, shall come again
our Brother and our Judge. 'It is _Christ_ that died, yea
rather, that is risen again'; but that triumphant assurance loses
all its blessedness, unless we say too, '_Jesus_ died for our
sins according to the Scriptures, and ... rose again the third day.'
Note, too, the calmness of His greeting. He uses the common form of
salutation, as if He had but been absent on some common occasion,
and met them in ordinary circumstances. He speaks out of His own
deep tranquillity, and desires to impart it to their agitated
spirits. He would calm their joy, that it may be the deeper, like
His own. If we may give any weight to the original meaning of the
formula of greeting which He employs, we may see blessed prophecy in
it. The lips of the risen Christ bid us all 'rejoice.' His
salutation is no empty wish, but a command which makes its own
fulfilment possible. If our hearts welcome Him, and our faith is
firm in His risen power and love, then He gives us a deep and
central gladness, which nothing
'That is at enmity with joy
Can utterly abolish or destroy.'
The rush to His feet, and the silent clasp of adoration, are
eloquent of a tumult of feeling most natural, and yet not without
turbid elements, which He does not wholly approve. We have not here
the prohibition of such a touch which was spoken to Mary, but we
have substantially the same substitution, by His command, of
practical service for mere emotion. That carries a lesson always in
season. We cannot love Christ too much, nor try to get too near Him,
to touch Him with the hand of our faith. But there have been modes
of religious emotion, represented by hymns and popular books, which
have not mingled reverence rightly with love, and have spoken of
Him, and of the emotions binding us to Him, in tones unwholesomely
like those belonging to earthly passion. But, apart from that, Jesus
taught these women, and us through them, that it is better to
proclaim His Resurrection than to lie at His feet; and that, however
sweet the blessedness which we find in Him may be, it is meant to
put a message into our lips, which others need. Our sight of Him
gives us something to say, and binds us to say it. It was a blessing
to the women to have work to do, in doing which their strained
emotions might subside. It was a blessing to the mournful company in
the upper room to have their hearts prepared for His coming by these
heralds. It was a wonderful token of His unchanged love, and an
answer to fears and doubts of how they might find Him, that He sends
the message to them as brethren.
In the hurry of that Easter morning, they had no time to ponder on
all that it had brought them. The Resurrection as the demonstration
of Christ's divinity and of the acceptance of His perfect sacrifice,
or as the pledge of their resurrection, or as the type of their
Christian life, was for future experience to grasp. For that day, it
was enough to pass from despair to joy, and to let the astounding
fact flood them with sunny hope.
We know the vast sweep of the consequences and consolations of it
far better than they did. There is no reason, in our distance from
it, for its diminishing either in magnitude, in certitude, or in
blessedness in our eyes. No fact in the history of the world stands
on such firm evidence as the resurrection of Jesus Christ. No age of
the world ever needed to believe it more than this one does. It
becomes us all to grasp it for ourselves with an iron tenacity of
hold, and to echo, in the face of the materialisms and know-nothing
philosophy of this day, the old ringing confession, 'Now is Christ
risen from the dead!'
We need say little about the last point in this narrative--the
obstinate blindness of the rulers, and their transparent lie to
account for the empty grave. The guard reports to the rulers, not to
the governor, as they had been handed over by Pilate for special
service. But they were Roman soldiers, as appears from the danger
which the rulers provided against, that of their alleged crime
against military discipline, in sleeping at their post, coming to
his ears. The trumped-up story is too puerile to have taken in any
one who did not wish to believe it. How could they tell what
happened when they were asleep? How could such an operation as
forcing back a heavy stone, and exhuming a corpse, have been carried
on without waking them? How could such a timid set of people have
mustered up courage for such a bold act? What did they do it for?
Not to bury their Lord. He had been lovingly laid there by reverent
hands, and costly spices strewn upon the sacred limbs. The only
possible motive would be that the disciples might tell lies about
His resurrection. That hypothesis that the Resurrection was a
deliberately concocted falsehood has proved too strong for the
stomach of modern unbelief, and has been long abandoned, as it had
need to be. When figs grow on thistles, such characters as the early
Christians, martyrs, heroes, saints, will be produced by a system
which has a lie, known to be one, for its foundation. But the lame
story is significant in two ways. It confesses, by its desperate
attempt to turn the corner of the difficulty, that the great rock,
on which all denials of Christ's resurrection split, is the simple
question--If He did not rise again, what became of the body? The
priests' answer is absurd, but it, at all events, acknowledges that
the grave was empty, and that it is incumbent to produce an
explanation which reasonable men can accept without laughter.
Further, this last appearance of the rulers in the gospel is full of
tragic significance, and is especially important to Matthew, whose
narrative deals especially with Jesus as the King and Messiah of
Israel. This is the end of centuries of prophecy and patience! This
is what all God's culture of His vineyard has come to! The
husbandmen cast the Heir out of the vineyard, and slew him. But
there was a deeper depth than even that. They would not be persuaded
when He rose again from the dead. They entrenched themselves in a
lie, which only showed that they had a glimmering of the truth and
hated it. And the lie was willingly swallowed by the mass of the
nation, who thereby showed that they were of the same stuff as they
who made it. A conspiracy of falsehood, which knew itself to be
such, was the last act of that august council of Israel. It is an
awful lesson of the penalties of unfaithfulness to the light
possessed, an awful instance of 'judicial blindness.' So sets the
sun of Israel. And therefore Matthew's Gospel turns away from the
apostate nation, which has rejected its King, to tell, in its last
words, of His assumption of universal dominion, and of the passage
of the glad news from Israel to the world.