Holy Saturday: the Sequel

The other women and I rose very early that morning, the first day of the week. We had been able to sleep, finally, after being exhausted from the labor and horror of the last few days. But I heard the first cock crowing well before it was light. It was time to get moving. We had a lot to do before leaving
for Galilee.

Without waking the others, we got up, gathered our bags of spices and carried them out into the cool air of pre-dawn. Walking quietly through the back streets, we climbed toward the upper part of the city and out toward the garden near where our Master had been crucified. We knew right where the tomb was, near to the execution grounds. How could we forget? We had watched through our tears as the Pharisee Nicodemus, and Joseph, our friend from Arimathea, made the first part of our traditional burial preparation; hurriedly, though, before the Sabbath began. We marked the place well, knowing we would need to come back after the Sabbath was past to finish the job.

But how would we open the tomb? The door was closed firmly, the great stone rolled down its slope and across the door, and then as we heard from friends, guarded and sealed by the Romans. Maybe they thought we'd try to break in, but all we wanted was to let the Lord rest, finally. Since we few women could not have rolled the stone back, perhaps the soldiers would take pity on us and move it out of the way so we could minister to Jesus one last time.

Suddenly we saw, as we came around the shoulder of the hill, that the tomb was open! My heart was in my throat. Had someone overcome the guards to rob the tomb? I panicked and ran, afraid to look or try to sort out what had happened, and heard the other women running behind me. I didn't bother knocking on the door of our upstairs room, just ran in and let it bounce off the wall behind me. Peter and John were awake, groggily, and stared at me in disbelief at first, then ran out the door to see for themselves. I went after them but couldn't begin to keep up, especially after two fast trips already.

But when I got back to the tomb, they were already gone. What was going on? I steadied myself and looked in the tomb. There were two strong-looking men sitting there, on either end of the burial shelf! I stammered out the words that I was looking for my Lord's body, and turned to leave, nearly bumping into another man standing outside the tomb. "For whom are you looking, dear lady?" said this man, and I thought he was the gardener, so I said "For my Lord, sir, so if you have moved his body please tell me where, so I can take proper care of him."

Then he said, in that rich voice I can still remember, "Mary." I knew that voice like I knew my own name. It was Jesus! My knees turned to water and I fell at his feet, grasping them with both hands and sobbing, nearly out of control. He was alive?! How could it be? "Mary," he said again, "don't be afraid. I need to go to my Father, and I have a message for you to give to my brothers back in their upper room."

This time I didn't run, I flew like a bird back to our hideout! Oh, just wait until they could hear what the Lord said to me!

I, a woman -- and with such a past as I have had! -- have been blessed by my Lord to be the first in our group to see him come out of the grave. Now I know that what he had said, that he would rise from the dead, was true. He is alive! Nothing can stop us now!