The Fifth Sunday Of Lent

John 12: 1-8

I woke with a gasp – the fear and agony and sorrow pushing in on my heart so heavy that I thought I couldn’t breathe. I lay there trying not to remember. I didn’t want to remember. Tossing and turning and burying my head in my pillow to sob again and again into its muffling folds. I remember crying myself to sleep last night and the night before. I just can’t believe that he is gone – that they took him away and beat him – whipped him drug him from one court to another all the while screaming their accusations and demanding that someone had to do something about him – someone had to kill him.

As I lay there that whole black day paraded across the backs of my eyes - I though I was standing there again - watching and waiting with his mother and our friends as they brought him out – Oh I can see his face all battered and bloody and those kind gentle eyes just staring out at the crowd  -  not seeing us  - I don’t think he knew  -  I think he thought he was all alone – those Men hadn’t stayed with him – they all ran off     But we were here  - the women who loved him and had stayed by him – we were here – but he didn’t see us – at least not right then. Oh my heart just aches I can’t stand it  - let it be a horrible nightmare – let me open my eyes and …..

OH – My God I don’t want to do this – Get up Mary quite putting this off  - you have to gone living and you have to go take care of business. His mother is going to be waiting for you.

So I get up and slowly put on my cloths and start to move around   but that heavy cloud is pushing down on me all the while. I grab a bit to eat – some bread and a little water and then go to the shelf and start putting the spices and oils that we will need into jars so that I can bring them with us. I went to the merchant and got everything we needed the other day so that we could go do this and now that the time has come.

I gather up my jars and wrap my head with my cloak and step out into the street. It’s early so luckily there are very few people up and about yet. I move quickly through the streets until I reach the gates and sure enough his mother is already there with another friend. We barely speak – each of us is so filled with sadness that the words  just can’t seem  to make it past our lips. But we really don’t need to talk – we know what we are going to do -  so no words are necessary. Together we turn and begin the short walk to the place were they put his body.

As we are walking I can not help but think about that huge stone that they put in front of his tomb to seal it up. How in the world can three women possibly move that thing? It took 6 or 7 men to get it there after they laid him inside. Why are we doing this? What good is it going to do anyway?

It was silly to think that we could come and anoint him and give him a proper burial. It was silly to believe that we could do anything to help. We couldn’t help save him and we aren’t going to be able to do this either. All those thoughts were running through my head as I walked with my friends and from the looks on their faces    I imagine they were having the same thoughts.

SO I just stopped  - stopped right in  my tracks -  stood perfectly still – and when the others stopped and turned around and looked at me I said it. I just said it right out loud – the thing we had all been thinking but didn’t want to admit. I said   "Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?"   There it was out – it was done – and we could stop this foolishness and just go home and back to our grief and agony.

But that isn’t what we did. No we looked at each other and then they turned back around and I walked quickly to catch up to them and together we continued on down the street to the garden where his tomb waited.

As we entered the garden we were surprised that we didn’t see any guards there. The other day they had posted guards – like they thought someone would come and try to steal him away or something. But now we saw no one. It gave me a very uneasy feeling and as we got closer to the place where we knew the tomb to be   we began to walk slower and slower. We couldn’t see the actual tomb until we were further into the garden. The path curved around a large tree and behind that tree was the tomb.

Once we cleared the tree we looked up and there it was – the tomb -  the tomb with the stone already moved back.

What’s going on where is the stone? Why is it moved? What’s happened? I drop my jars and race forward trying to see into the tomb but it is very dark and my eyes can’t really see anything at first.

But as I get closer and my eyes begin to adjust to the dim inner parts of the tomb I can see the slab where they had laid his body – and its EMPTY!  His body is GONE!

I turn to my friends and cry out “Somebody has taken his body! Somebody has stolen him!” They too drop their jars and begin crying and moaning and Mary crumples to the ground in tears.

My head is about to burst – I am full if anger – anger at whoever has done this –.wasn’t bad enough that they killed him but now they have stolen his body too. What kind of people would do something like that?

And at the same time I feel sadness – unbearable sadness over the thought of loosing him again. I can’t go on – I just can’t. I fall on the steps to the tomb weeping uncontrollably.

I don’t know how long I lay there – crying . I can sort of remember hearing the cries of my friends – sobs of anguish as they lay there on the ground    over come by the same sadness that enclosed me.

At some point    I lifted my head and looked into the tomb again – hoping  - without really thinking there was any hope to be found – that maybe    just maybe I had missed something       that his body really wasn’t gone – that it was just the light playing tricks on my tear swollen eyes.

I looked again and the breath caught in my throat Something was there -  someone was there. Maybe – maybe it – no it couldn’t be him – he was dead but the people I saw were sitting up. But maybe they could tell us what happened to his body.  Maybe they knew. Maybe they knew where it had been moved.

I jumped up and called out to my friends and together we entered the tomb. My heart was pounding against my chest so strongly I though it might burst right out or explode. I was so frightened I was shaking   but I had to know      I Had to find out what had happened to my Jesus.

Two men, dressed in a white, were just sitting there in the tomb. They seemed to know the questions of my heart even though I never opened my mouth to ask them. They  told us not to be afraid and then asked if we were looking for Jesus of Nazareth.

All we could do was nod our heads like we were dumb mutes but they just smiled and told us that he wasn’t there.

I wanted to scream “I know he’s not there  - I can see he’s not there!” but I didn’t.

Then they said the most remarkable thing my ears have ever heard. They  said  -  he has been raised.

My heart leap for joy, I could hardly contain my excitement. Now I understood, I knew why the tomb was empty. No body had stolen him – He wasn’t gone. I wanted to jump and shout and sing. I remembered what he had said before – what he had said about the temple begin destroyed and then rebuilt in three day. THREE DAYS – today was the third day. I remembered – Remembered every promise  -   every joy and hope that he had given us I remembered it all and my heart rejoiced within me.

And as I turned to look at my companions I realized that they too had heard what had been said and they too understood – understood everything just like I did.

Yes the tomb is empty – Alleluia!  the tomb is empty and Jesus has risen from the dead.

In our joy and elation we forgot about the men until they stopped our rejoicing and told us to go and tell the disciples. They wanted us to go and tell them that Jesus was already going to Galilee and that he would meet them there.

Well that stopped our celebration – what do you mean go tell them -  those men who ran away from him – who deserted him.. I didn’t want to go tell them – they didn’t deserve to get this kind of wonderful news. But his mother just looked at me and I knew that I was wrong. I couldn’t keep this miracle just for myself because he didn’t  come just for me. He didn’t come just for the women who had stayed by him. He came for everyone – even the ones who had killed him.

We left the tomb - with both amazement and terror in our hearts. I knew, as the other  women knew, that those men would not believe us. The further we got from the garden the more frightened we became  -    but not just for ourselves. I’m sure his mother was frightened for him - that would be normal for a mother – even a mother of a son who was the Son of God. SO at first we hesitated - but before long, I found that I just couldn’t keep this all inside – so I went to them – those men who had been his companions – those men who were cowering in fear, weeping and mourning, and I told them what had been told to me and what I had seen

But you know what – They didn’t believe me.