angels sitting at the
head and foot of the place where the body of Jesus had been lying.
"Why are you crying?" the angels asked her.A morning breeze brings with it the smells of Spring, fresh and alive. The olive trees are old, filled with small white flowers. Their long pale green leaves are wet with the mist of the morning.
Two small birds of prey fly over you, one of them landing in the top of a
olive tree, the other flying to the walls, landing in a 
crevice. It has a red
back and a bluish gray head. It turns around and looks right at you with piercing
eyes, then flies away. You watch it for a moment go to the wall, then hear
the sobbing start again.
It is coming from a little farther on. You walk down the path where the trees begin shading you from the sun. There she is, sitting underneath a fig tree. You know her... Mary Magdalene. You remember her from Friday. You shared no words with her, only a moment of profound sadness.
You walk up to her. She is crying and does not look at you. She needs some good news and you have some to share.
“Mary,” you say. “He’s alive! Jesus isn’t in the tomb anymore!”
“I know,” she replies, still not looking up. “I saw him. I touched him.”
“What?!”
“I saw him. I ran here, away from the others when we saw the tomb empty, I couldn’t stand to see anymore. It was too much. First he was crucified then someone stole his body. Someone came up behind me. I thought it was the gardener.”
She wipes her eyes, adjusts the scarf on her head, realizing she is a little disheveled. Then she continues.
“He is different now. I didn’t recognize him. He asked me… he asked me why I was crying. I asked him if he knew what happened to the body, if he saw who took it.”
You ask, “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Mary!’ That’s all, but when he said my name my eyes opened. I recognized him. He said my name and I knew who he was. He was different, more, I don’t know how to describe him now. He’s more of who he was, more human, more real. I saw that.”
“What did you say?”
“I turned and yelled, ‘Teacher’, then I went to touch him,
to hold him. He wouldn’t let me, he said, well, he said some other things.
He told me I needed to go tell everyone what he said.”
She stands up, brushes off the grass and dirt.
You still have questions, so many you don’t know where to start.
The first which comes to mind you blurt out, “Why were you crying? He’s alive, why are you sad about that?”
“I wasn’t crying because of sadness. It‘s joy. I remembered all those years in bondage, all that time suffering. I thought all of that was coming back. I could feel the evil returning. Then I see him alive, don’t you understand? I’m free, I’m free, he’s restoring the kingdom, we’re all free! I thought I was lost, lost again, and he found me, again. It was too much, much too much, I had to get it all out, I couldn’t talk to anyone with all of that inside of me. Let’s go, we’ve got to tell everyone what I’ve seen.”
The lilting song of a warbler comes from the tree above you. Scattered clouds move east across the sky, the sun is warm, the breeze is cool. You walk back with Mary, she tells you how she met Jesus. You tell her your much less interesting story.
In the course of a half hour, your mood has changed from complete emptiness to full and total joy. He’s alive! You too are alive again, anxious to see him for yourself, anxious to hear what this all means. Though you meant to leave soon, it seems a few hours of waiting would be fine, especially if you get a chance to see Jesus for yourself.
Praise
My Jesus, without you I am lost, with you I am found. You seek me and restore my soul, filling me with the hope of Life, a hope which will never go away. Let me forget the bonds which once held me, for they hold me no more. May I know only you, and live in the freedom you have brought. You are my savior, for that I am eternally thankful.