Resurrection

Faith comes through layers of misunderstanding

detail from a photo of station 15 of the stations of the cross sculptures in San Luis, Colorado

Commentary on John 20:1-18

Dorothy A. Lee

Today is the most important day in the church’s year: Easter Day. It is the day on which all Christian hope depends. On this day, we believe, Jesus Christ rose from the dead, conquering sin, evil, and death itself; and conquering it not by a show of mighty power or the force of arms but, rather, conquering it from within, by radically entering into the worst of human suffering and bringing life to that place of desolation and annihilation. This transformation happens because of who Jesus is: God’s beloved Son, the one who shares in the very being of God. The cross is transfigured from suffering and death to joy and hope because God has entered it, bringing the life that is uniquely divine.

In all four Gospels, Mary Magdalene plays a key role in discovering the emptiness of the tomb and encountering the message of the resurrection. In John’s Gospel, however, she plays the chief role, in being the first not only to see the empty tomb but also to meet the risen Lord himself. Not only does she reach Easter faith, but she also proclaims it to the other disciples.

Mary does not reach the heights of faith without a struggle. This is a characteristic feature of John’s stories, in which faith comes through layers of misunderstanding. Step-by-step, the exemplary characters of the Gospel, including Mary herself, come to a spiritual comprehension of what is happening, moving from the material to the spiritual level. In this process, matter is not dismissed or set aside. On the contrary, the material is itself the means by which God in Christ is revealed, just as the flesh of Jesus in the incarnation radiates the divine glory (1:14).

When Mary comes to the tomb in the early dawn and sees the stone rolled away, she jumps at once to the conclusion that the body has been stolen. In her distress she runs back to tell two other disciples—Peter and the unnamed, beloved disciple—who make their own journey to view the tomb. It may be that, at this point, the beloved disciple has an inkling of faith when he sees the grave clothes lying there, neatly folded. But if so, it cannot be full faith, as he communicates nothing of his suspicions or apprehensions either to Mary or Peter or anyone else. Only in the next chapter does he recognize the risen Christ on the beach in Galilee (21:7).

Significantly, it is at this point that we find Mary weeping, not only in grief but also, we might imagine, in frustration. And now she encounters even more signs of the resurrection but misses their significance. She sees the two angels who do not speak to her or announce the resurrection, unlike in the other Gospels. Instead, they simply sit on either end of the stone slab. They mirror the cherubim over the ark of the covenant, but Mary does not yet get it. She turns away and sees someone standing there but thinks it must be only the gardener. Not until he speaks her name does she realize who it is standing before her, miraculously and gloriously alive.

Jesus’s naming of Mary is of great significance here. It follows the pattern of other resurrection stories in the Gospels, where Jesus says or does something familiar so that his disciples are able to recognize him. There is, after all, something radically different about him, even though he can still be recognized. But Mary here shows that she belongs in the flock of the Good Shepherd who knows his sheep and calls each by name. Mary recognizes the voice and presence of the Good Shepherd (10:3).

Even at this joyful point of recognition, however, Mary’s understanding still needs to grow. She rushes to hold onto Jesus, not realizing that he is about to depart, that this is not to be his final moment present with her. His words to her are crucial: “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (20:17). There is a uniqueness about Jesus’s filiation with God, his sonship, which is connected to but not identical to that of his disciples. They become daughters and sons of God by being drawn into Jesus’s own filiation, sonship. His place is unique, yet it is precisely through him that disciples become children of the Father. The circle of the Trinity in this Gospel becomes ever wider and inclusive.

And so Mary comes at last to full Easter faith, the first to see and believe, the first to obey the Risen One’s missional instructions: to proclaim the message of the resurrection to the other disciples. The later church rightly described her as “the apostle of the apostles” because of her faith and because of the commission she is given to proclaim the gospel of the resurrection, a commission that she carries out faithfully.

It may well be that Mary’s other name, “Magdalene,” is not so much about her place of origin but, rather, her place within the community of Jesus’s disciples. The word means “tower” and it may well have been a nickname that Jesus used for Mary, just as he uses Cephas/Peter for Simon or Boanerges, “Sons of Thunder,” for the apostles James and John. If this is right, then Mary is indeed a tower of strength for the other disciples, and also for us today. She points us unmistakably to the Risen One; the one who has conquered sin and suffering, evil and death; the one who holds out hope for the future resurrection, not only of us but of the whole creation.