I wonder how far along the road to
the tomb Mary and Mary Magdalene were before one of them thought about the
stone that had been placed there. It was early, they probably both rose, still
tired, from a restless night. They probably hadn't had coffee, figuring they'd
tend to the body and then come back, sit and share a cup as the week began.
"Who'll roll away the stone,"
one asks the other. "Oh my gosh," the other Mary replies, "I
hadn't even thought of that. Do you think we can?" "No," Mary M
replies, "don't you remember. They had to dig a little trench so it would
roll down."
They keep going, though. It's too
early to go and wake anyone. Maybe there'll be a guard there who can move the
stone. Not all the Roman soldiers are bad. Half of them are just boys, far away
from home. If not, well, maybe someone will come along later in the morning to
help.
In the low light of dawn, neither
of them believes what they're seeing. It's still half-dark, and the tomb deep
in the spring shadows. It can't be what it looks like, can it? Is it?
In every account except for
Matthew's there's no explanation for how or who moved the stone from the tomb's
entrance. Mark, Luke, and John tell us that, upon arrival, the stone had
already been rolled away. There's no mention of earthquakes or angels or any
sign of guards. The how is a mystery, something amazing that is a small wonder
in the midst of the greater wonder of the Resurrection.
Maybe, newly risen, Jesus spoke
into the darkness and the stone, hearing the voice that had created it, rolled
back. Or, perhaps, the very rocks and stones, while humanity lie silent and
hopeless, recognized what was happening, and this stone moved on its own. It
could be that Matthew's right and an angel opened the tomb.
But one thing in clear, no human
hand did it.
Good Friday is filled with
humanity's actions: Jesus is seized, struck, and stripped by human hands. It's
the same that fashion a thorny crown, place the cross on his back, hold and
drive the nails. We hold all that power within our hands. We are able to bring
death, even to God.
Resurrection, though, is beyond us.
We can devise trenches and mechanisms to move the stone in place, but to move
the stone and free those in darkness is beyond us. We are like the women on
that morning asking, who will move this stone?
But something amazing happens
afterward. In the chaos of the morning, the One, the only one who could move
the stone appears to all of them. And he breathes on them. The same breath that
filled the lungs of the first human is exhaled upon them.
And Jesus says with a wild glint in
his eyes, come on, let's start moving stones.
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