On the first day of the week, Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.” So Peter and the other disciple went out and came to the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and arrived at the tomb first; he bent down and saw the burial cloths there, but did not go in. When Simon Peter arrived after him, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there, and the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed. For they did not yet under the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead. (John 20.1-9)
For our reflection today on Easter Sunday, we are given the evangelist John’s account of the resurrection. There are differences between his story and those of the other evangelists, who also do not agree on all the details among themselves. No matter. The evangelists as a rule are giving us theological truths, not hard-core historical facts. For them, faithfulness to historical truth is always secondary to fidelity to theological truth.
As we might expect, John’s presentation of the resurrection is going to carry several of the themes that have appeared earlier in his text. So, at the start, John tells us that “on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene went early, while it was still dark, to the tomb.” By this point in our study of John, we are well aware that light and darkness are key anchors in his gospel, already at the start and again here at the end, not to mention popping up four times in between.
By contrast, Mark says the visit by Mary occurred “very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen.” So what is John telling us when he says Mary went while it was still dark? Obviously, one possibility is he is factually telling us it was dark. However, since darkness is a constant theme in his text, we can assume he is putting it here for a purpose.
In all likelihood, he utilizes the element of darkness to tell us that Mary Magdalene is “still in the dark,” meaning she has no clue about the resurrection. She won’t be enlightened until later on when she returns to the garden and encounters someone whom she assumes is the gardener. Only when the Risen Lord calls her by name does she realize that it is the one and same Jesus whom she followed and loved.
Just as importantly, coming to the gravesite, Mary sees that the stone at the entrance has been rolled away. Unlike Matthew who has an angel tell the women that Jesus has risen and Mark who has a young man dressed in white giving the message to the women and Luke who has the women enter the tomb, John says nothing about Mary going into the tomb.
Instead, she immediately ran to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved to tell them that “they have taken away the Lord out of the tomb.” Her assumption is that someone–probably the Jewish religious leaders or grave robbers–have absconded with the dead body, either to erase completely the memory of Jesus or to sell off the linen burial cloth for a pretty penny.
Hearing the dire message from Mary, the two disciples–Simon Peter and the Beloved Disciple–want to see for themselves, both of them also in the dark at this point. John paints a vivid picture. “They both ran together. The other disciple outran Peter, and came to the tomb first.” We have to ask ourselves why in the world is everybody running. John says Mary ran to the disciples and now he says the disciples ran to the tomb.
Obviously, running connotes urgency. For Mary, she has real concerns about someone stealing the body of Jesus. For Peter and the Beloved Disciple, they may have a similar concern. The Beloved Disciple arrives first, but he does not enter the tomb. Instead, he stoops and looks in, seeing the linen cloth lying there, but not a body.
Peter arrives shortly after and he enters the tomb, also seeing the same thing. The Beloved Disciple enters after Peter and here is where it gets interesting. The evangelist tells us “the other disciple who came first to the tomb also entered and he saw and believed.” The evangelist does not say that Peter believed. Nor, for that matter, does he tell us what the Beloved Disciple believed.
Scholars are befuddled by the statement, unsure of what exactly the Beloved Disciple believed. Did he believe Mary? Did he believe the body had been stolen? I prefer to think that because the evangelist says the Beloved Disciple saw and believed, but does not say the same of Simon Peter, argues for something more important going on here. I think it’s the moment that the Beloved Disciple has the first inkling that Jesus has risen from the dead.
Probably the most famous painting about Easter has this story as its focus. It’s a painting by the French painter Eugene Burnand and it’s called “The Disciples Peter and John Running to the Sepulchre on the Morning of the Resurrection.” It is incomparable in capturing the moment. Simon Peter and the Beloved Disciple are shown running so fast that the hair on their head looks like they’re facing a mighty north wind. The right palm of Peter’s hand is spread over his heart and the Beloved Disciple’s hands are tightly locked together as if he is praying. The painting is full of emotions.
I think Burnand is onto something here. The evangelist certainly wants us to know that the two disciples are running, almost like runners speeding towards the finish line. I like to see the running in this story as key to its meaning. As I see it, the physical movement to the tomb serves as an overlay to a more important spiritual movement. And what is that movement?
In the act of running, the two disciples are expressing hope. And hope has feet. For any of us who has been hopeful–and who hasn’t–we know that hope moves, it reaches out, even if it feels like we’re grasping for straws. Hope does not sit still. Simon and the Beloved Disciple are hopeful when they race to the tomb. Hopeful that Mary got it wrong. Hopeful that the body has not been taken. Hopeful that there’s a good answer.
Once at the tomb and it is confirmed that Mary was right, that the body of the dead Jesus is not there what then? Simon Peter goes no further. He is still at hope. But the Beloved Disciple has moved on from hope. He has moved to faith, or belief as the evangelist calls it. “The other disciple who came first to the tomb also entered and he saw and believed.” He didn’t stay stuck on hope, but was able to take the quantum leap to faith.
And it is a quantum leap between hope and faith. Hope is looking for something or for someone. Hope is looking for something tangible, something to hold onto. It wants clear-cut results. Faith, on the other hand, believes without seeing results. Faith does not need proof that everything is going to be alright. It has gone beyond hope and rests secure on belief.
As we know from personal experience, sometimes–oftentimes–we can’t move from hope to faith. We hold onto hope, but we just can’t reach that point where we have faith everything will be fine even if we see no proof of it. And while there is nothing wrong with hope–after all, we need it for survival–it doesn’t have the muscle that faith has.
If we were to use a baseball analogy, we could say hope is a single hit while faith is a home run. Both require running, but hope comes to a stop whereas faith rounds the bases for home plate. Hope gets us on base, but it can’t get us home. Only faith can. At this point in the story, Peter is still stuck on first base. The Beloved Disciple has outrun him and he is on homebase.
So, how did the Beloved Disciple get there so soon? The answer is right in front of us. We find it in his name. Love. The push that gets us from hope to faith is love. The Beloved Disciple was loved by Jesus–John makes five references to that fact–but he also loved Jesus in return. He was next to Jesus at the last supper and he was next to Jesus as Jesus suffered on the cross. Peter is nowhere in sight. John makes it clear that the Beloved Disciple is the one always closest to Jesus not only in spatial terms, but also in spiritual terms.
Looking at the Easter story through this lens, we are given a roadmap on how to move steadily from hopefulness towards faithfulness. We progress by way of love. Love is the bridge that gets us from hope to faith. If we want to have greater faith, then we need a greater love of Jesus. Once we arrive at a fullness of love for Jesus, then we don’t have to hang on to hope. We have complete and total faith. At that point, we don’t need proof to believe. Or as Jesus says to Thomas later in John’s text, “Blessed are those who have not seen but who believe.”
Given this context, it adds significance to the Risen Lord’s three-part question to Simon Peter at the Sea of Galilee at the end of John’s gospel as the Lord prepares to leave his disciples and return to his Father in heaven. He asks Simon Peter, “Do you love me?” Peter answers, “You know I love you.” But Jesus persists with the same question. Why? He is inviting Simon to move, to run towards total and complete faith in him. And the only way to get there is through total and complete love.
Last week a dear friend shared with me a story about her brother’s recent death. In the days before his passing, she had spent a lot of time with him, reassuring him that there was nothing to fear in death, that heaven would be a wonderful place. He listened quietly and then he said to her, “And how do you know this?” We shared a chuckle as she told me the story because it sounded so much like her brother. He’d like some proof.
But it is every person’s story in the end. Her brother had made it to hope. He hoped for a new life after death. And he wanted to get to faith, a belief in the hereafter without question. We’re all in the same boat. Today the evangelist John tells us how to get that kind of faith. The way there is through love, a love that has no questions, no doubts, and, in many instances, no answers.
The Easter story as told to us by John invites us to run eagerly to the tomb. Hope will get us there. But if we want to get to faith, then we have to love the Risen Lord so much that we can stare into the emptiness of the tomb and, like the Beloved Disciple, see nothing and yet believe. Then we have truly arrived at the finish line.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 