But nothing abhors a vacuum like
the imagination. My mother was great at
developing stories. My mother’s favorite words were, “I wonder…” as she began
to let her imagination spin out a tale that would give meaning to whatever was
on her mind. When she began wondering
about our landlord, she went to work.
She asked aloud, “I wonder why he
and his wife don’t want to live in this house.”
There must be a reason. Perhaps
this woman is his second wife. Perhaps
he lived here years ago with his first wife.
This was the house they bought together.
But then they got a divorce – it was very sad.
He probably lived in this house
after the divorce – she moved away, out of the area. It was for the best. Then he met another woman and married again. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t live in this
house, the house of his first wife. Even
though it’s a really nice house, there were just too many memories here. Of course, they couldn’t live here. It was she, the new wife, who insisted that
they find a new house that would be their home.
And after she told us this story,
it was a drop-the-mic moment. Boom. Her work was done. Now we had a good story to fill in the gaps. And it was such a good story; how could it not be true?
I will tell you the truth, I did
some embellishing of my own on this story about my mother, although the essence
of it is certainly true. And I don’t think my mother would mind at all, because
she was all for making a good story even better.
But, I’m thinking, this might be why
women have been thought to be untrustworthy witnesses.
Historically, we know, the words
of women have not been taken seriously.
This is true. In ancient Jewish
history, an authoritative list of ten categories of people who are not competent
to testify, women are at the top of the list.
Women were not believed to be reliable witnesses – And it wasn’t just a
Jewish thing – it was a human thing.
Throughout most of human history,
women’s stories have been laughed at, scoffed at, and brushed off. Sometimes for unfair reasons – the idea that
women are too emotional, or too easily confused. But it occurs to me, it might also be because
women are good storytellers. Stories
are, in fact, important to women. It is
through stories that women tell their truth.
Very often, it is not enough to
just state a fact. Many truths need to
be told as stories, so we can hear it and see it and feel it. With a story, it’s like you are there, you know
this truth intimately. Joe Friday might
want “Just the facts, ma’am” but women have stories to tell. And the women had quite a story to tell about
that Sunday morning outside Jerusalem.
So sit back and let me tell you the story.
Jesus was gone – his body was
gone from the tomb. It wasn’t something
that anybody had been expecting. Just
the Friday before, his body had been taken down from the cross. It was about mid-afternoon. Joseph of Arimathea, along with Nicodemus,
collected his body. Nicodemus, you might
remember, is the one who had once paid a late-night visit to Jesus because he
wanted so much to understand but couldn’t understand, at least not then. These two men carried his body out to a tomb
where they would lay it, along with the myrrh and aloe for the embalming. Some say Nicodemus carried more than 100
pounds of myrrh and aloe. Most people
would say that you don’t really need that much, 40 pounds will do the job. But 100 pounds of myrrh and aloe – I think
that tells us something about where Nicodemus’s heart and mind were now. And
that’s another story to tell.
And so they carried the body and
the herbs and spices and clothes to the garden where the tomb was. It was Joseph’s tomb, actually. He assumed he would be buried there some day,
but on this day, he could think of no better use of it than to lay the body of
Jesus in it. By the time they arrived at
the tomb, it was near sunset.
The Sabbath was coming. Even with all the events that had transpired
this day, it would not be acceptable to violate the Sabbath laws. They could not
be handling a dead body on this holy day, and they needed to be getting home on
time for the evening prayers. So
Nicodemus and Joseph left Jesus’ body in the tomb, covered the entrance to the
tomb with a stone, and they left. There
was nothing more that could be, or needed to be, done that day.
Sunday, after the Sabbath, Mary
rose very early so she could go to the tomb.
She was awake well before sunrise, in fact, so urgently did she feel the
need to go and finish the work that had been started on Friday. There were some other women there in
Jerusalem too, women who had, along with Mary, accompanied Jesus throughout his
ministry. A lot of people think it was
just that band of 12 men who followed Jesus, but there were women too – women
who used their own resources to provide for him and the disciples. These women
had been there at the very beginning, and they were there at the bitter end,
and that’s another story to tell.
Some say that it was a few of
them who went to the garden that morning – the other Mary and perhaps
Joanna. But, it might have been Mary
Magdalene, all alone, who made the trip that morning.
When she arrived, she was shocked
to find the tomb a dark, gaping hole.
The stone had been removed, the grave was open, and the body was gone.
What this could mean, Mary didn’t
know. She only knew that the body of her
Lord was gone, and that she did not know where he had been taken and she was
frantic. More than anything else, she
wanted to know where they had taken him so she could go find him. Mary was not ready to let go of Jesus
yet.
And she ran back to the house
where they had all been staying, and she burst through the door where the men
were all gathered, and she said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and
we do not know where they have laid him.”
Now, some say that they didn’t believe her, that the men just dismissed
it as “idle tales.” You know, the kind
of stories women tell. And perhaps some of them did. But not all of them. Not all.
Peter and one of the other men
followed Mary back to the garden. And
they saw what Mary had seen – an empty tomb.
They left, but Mary remained. She
still didn’t know what happened to him.
She looked into the tomb and saw two angels – they had to be
angels. Not everyone agrees about
exactly what angels look like, but when you see one, you know. She said to them, “They have taken away my
Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”
Where is he? Mary wanted to
know. She asked the angels, where is
he? Because Mary was not ready to let go
of him yet. Mary would not go.
And because Mary remained, she
was the first to see Jesus in the garden, in the flesh. Mary was the first
evangelist, the first bearer of the good news, the apostle to the
apostles.
She immediately reached out to
touch him, because Mary was not ready to let go of him yet. But he said to her, Mary, don’t hold on to
me. She had to let him go.
She had to let him go so that
that he could see and be seen by other people in other places and spread the
good news widely. She had to let him go
so that he could ascend to the father – his father and her father in
heaven. She had to let him go so that
she, and every one of us, could have him, hold him in our hearts, know him as
our redeemer.
Eventually Mary went back to the
disciples, her face shining brightly, and told them, “I have seen the
Lord.” She told them everything she had
seen and heard.
Yes, the men did confirm what
this woman had seen and heard, with their own experiences of Jesus later, and
these stories, too, will be told. But
let us not discount the fact that this woman had been the first to bear witness
to the resurrection. Perhaps it was
necessary that it be this way. Because
women are storytellers, and this is a story that had to be told.
This is a story that is not over yet.
The story of the gospel is a beginning, which shows us the way to
follow, the way to live. It is a story that we pick up and carry with us, and we
continue writing it with our lives. Each of us has a story to tell – a story
that is a piece of the big story. Patch them all together and we have color and
depth and texture. And when we share it, it brings new life to others.
And God still speaks through this
story that is now our story as well.
This is the story that matters more
than any other narrative – the strangest story of all, as C.S. Lewis said. It
is a story that tells us, in the end, peace reigns. In the end, life
flourishes. In the end, love wins.
It’s a good story. Love wins.
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