A goodbye: Joanna on burial duty

‘I was not there to weep for him; I must be there to say goodbye to him.’

My husband nodded, ‘You will not be needed in the palace this morning. Of course you can go with the other women. Indeed, you should go.’

So I left Herod’s palace in the dark before the dawn, thinking of how, so often, I found myself stretched between two worlds. How much easier it would be if I didn’t have responsibilities at court. But life isn’t like that, is it? And perhaps I wouldn’t understand other people’s troubles if I didn’t have my own to face. At least on this day, the task ahead looked straightforward. I would meet up with Mary Magdalene and the others before it was fully light so we could make our way to the tomb without attracting attention.

Once there, we would ask the soldiers to open the tomb in order for us to complete the burial duties. When that was done, we would commit his body to God and thank the guards for their understanding. It would be a straightforward task and satisfying to have everything properly completed.

On my way to the house that John’s family owned, I was sure I felt a rumble from deep in the earth. Tremors are common enough but it added to the strangeness I felt that morning. And, after the sound, there was an eerie silence, as if a breath was being held in.

Mary Magdalene

When I arrived at the house, Mary Magdalene greeted me. She looked pale and drawn. That was no surprise after what had happened. Her attention was on the ointment and the spices for the morning’s work.

‘Everything must be in good order,’ she told me, but it didn’t sound convincing. You can’t put death right, can you? Our most careful and beautiful attention to detail wasn’t going to turn back time. What we were dealing with wasn’t the kind of pain which you could wrap your arms around like a mother does for a child when she whispers away the hurting.

Nonetheless, I understood how Mary felt. When you feel useless, the best medicine is to stay busy with small tasks. And, as soon as we were all gathered, we slipped out into the darkness.

I suppose it might have been sensible, as we walked along, to be quietly discussing what we were going to say to the soldiers. It was a delicate matter. They’d see half a dozen shadowy figures approaching before they realised who those people were.

It would have been no surprise to be faced by guards with their swords drawn and ready for use.

As we walked in almost total silence, I kept going over the events in my mind: the Thursday night arrest, the botched trial process, the cross dragged to the place of execution. The fact that I had not been there meant my imagination was filling in the gaps and that wasn’t good.

The Garden

As we approached Joseph’s garden, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now there was some thing to take my attention away from the events of the last few days.

Except there wasn’t: not a soldier to be seen, only a stone rolled away. You’d have thought it was the earthquake we’d felt earlier except for the fact that things looked so tidy and untouched.

Then we peered into the tomb. There was no body.

I was bewildered but Mary was horrified. ‘Not this, surely not this,’ she said.

I thought she was about to crumble into a heap but she didn’t. Instead she covered her face with her hands for a moment, took a deep breath and looked up.

‘Peter,’ she said, as if she was suddenly determined. ’We need him here.’ And with that she turned and ran as if her life depended on it. And, in a sense, perhaps it did.

Where to find this story in your Bible?

Not there:
Mary Magdalene in a panic

I was halfway to John’s house before it entered my brain that I’d left the other women by the tomb with no clear message about what they should do.

‘Stupid,’ I said to myself. ‘You should have at least said something.’ But what was there to say? I had no idea. Jerusalem is a city where grave-robbing has been a regular problem for years. Most of the time you don’t think about it because you’re getting on with your normal life.

Then suddenly the danger hits you in the face and you realise that grave-robbing is not necessarily something that just happens to other people.

I felt sick to my stomach and I slowed to a halt. For a moment, I felt as if I couldn’t go any further. There comes a time when you just want to give up, to lie down and curl up into a ball. But I knew I didn’t have that choice.

‘Lord, give me strength,’ I said quietly and took several deep breaths. Then I did what I knew I had to do: I put one foot in front of the other and slowly picked up my pace until I was running so hard I thought my lungs were going to burst.

Jesus isn't there!

When I got to John’s house, Peter opened the door and let me in. He stood there, looking puzzled, as he waited for me to get my breath. John joined him. ‘Not there,’ I gasped.

‘What’s not there?’ asked John. ‘Are we talking about the tomb?’

‘Jesus isn’t there.’

‘He must be,’ said Peter, ‘unless you’ve gone to the wrong tomb.’‘I saw him laid to rest,’ I reminded him. ‘I was there. I know which garden belongs to Joseph of Arimathea.’

‘Someone’s moved the body,’ suggested John. ‘Joseph has a gardener. Perhaps it was him.’

‘On a Sabbath?’ asked Peter and scratched his head.

‘You’ve got to come,’ I told them. ‘Once you’ve seen the garden, it will all make sense.’

Neither of them made any reply to that.

‘It’s not grave robbers, is it?’ I asked. I hadn’t dared say it until then.

Peter looked out of the door in the direction where the garden lay. ‘There will be an explanation. The sooner we get there, the sooner we will have an answer.’

What he didn’t say was whether it would be an answer we liked or not.

Where to find this story in your Bible?

John 20:2

His voice:
Mary Magdalene is astonished

They left me alone. Sometimes that’s all you want. Just to be able to breathe slowly and sort through the mess of things in your head. As Peter and John left Joseph’s garden, I slumped to the ground, I couldn’t remain standing any longer.

And I wept. Wept for all the hopes that had been torn away; wept for the loss of th one person who understood the whole of me; wept for all of us who had followed him, certain that he was the one who would make the difference.

The sorrow hit me in wave after wave. I’d be calming down and gathering myself a little when some other memory of him would be triggered and I’d feel totally bereft again.

How long this went on I have no idea but eventually the tide of misery ebbed away a bit and I looked around. It was such a beautiful garden. Joseph had designed it to be his oasis of peace. And it was just that: a quiet breathing space beyond the madness of the city.

I looked across at the tomb and felt my tears start again. It was so unfair that such a lovely place should be the centre of such a horrible loss. Getting up, I walked across to take another look. Not that it would do any good.

Angels at the tomb

I expected the grave to be empty of course. This time, when I peered in, it was any thing but. Where Jesus had been laid, there were two figures in white. It was almost as if they were guarding a body that wasn’t there.

‘Why are you crying?’ they asked me.

I explained, ‘They have taken my Lord away and I do not know where they have laid him.’

They didn’t give me an answer so I turned around to see if I was missing something and found I wasn’t alone in the garden. At last, I thought to myself, someone who will give me an answer. Without even thinking, I just assumed it was the gardener returned from his work of relocating the body.

He asked me, ‘Why are crying? Who is it you are looking for?’

‘Sir,’ I answered, ‘if you have taken him away, let me know me where you have put him and I will go and take care of him.’

If I hadn’t been crying so much, I’d have taken a good look at the person I was talking to but I didn’t. That changed with a single word.

‘Mary,''he said.

Only one person called my name quite like that. And I opened my eyes properly at last.

‘Master!’I gasped. It was the one who had taught me everything: Jesus wasn’t lost after all.

Or was he? I was in such a state I thought I must be dreaming. It’s all in the mind, my fears started telling me. And the idea that this was a ghost went through my head even though I’ve always said I don’t believe in them.

So I did the only thing I could do: I reached out and held him. To my immense relief and utter astonishment, there was someone to hold on to. I hadn’t lost him. He had ome back to me.

Of course, extraordinary moments cannot last forever. He told me very gently that I couldn’t keep clinging to him, that he had to return to his Father. And he gave me a job to do.

‘Go to my brothers and sisters and tell them: I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’

So I did. Instead of bringing a bundle of questions and doubts, as I had earlier, now I had good news to share. As for where Jesus went next, I simply can’t tell you because, when I left him to do what he had asked of me, I never looked back.

Where to find this story in your Bible?

John 20:11–17

Easter Inside Out is available here

David Kitchen is an award-winning writer, broadcaster, teacher and storyteller who has been making the Bible come alive for longer than he cares to remember. In Bible in Ten he combines his down-to-earth writing skills with almost 50 years’ experience in church leadership and worship. His hobbies include music, poetry and playing crawling-up-stairs games with his grandson.