Station of the Resurrection #2: Footrace to the Tomb
John 20:1-10
“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” So Peter went out with the other disciple, and they were going toward the tomb. Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. And stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples went back to their homes.”
“On your mark…get set…go!” When Mary Magdalene comes and tells Peter and John what happened, her news that “they have taken the Lord out of the tomb” is like the shot of a starter’s pistol, sending the two disciples on a dead sprint. Out of the house, falling over the chickens, through the residential quarters, blindly turning the corners, running through the merchant square, knocking over a fruit stand, squeezing through the crowded city gate, down the hillside and, finally, into the garden where their Lord was buried on Friday.
What propels them in this cross-country race? Is it rage as they imagine the chief priests stealing, desecrating the body of Jesus? Assuming Mary has told them more of the story than just “they have taken the Lord,” is it the possible thrill of an angel sighting? Is it hope, however so slight, that there is more to the story? That they have missed something, that waiting at the tomb is some clue that puts the confounding pieces of the puzzle together? One thing we know for sure: it is not faith that sends them hurtling outside the city walls, for John tells us plainly, “as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead.”
Whatever has them racing through the streets like school boys, busting through the crowds like wild bulls, it is something other than faith. Whatever it is that has John gasping for breath outside the tomb waiting for Peter, within the tomb is something that will take his breath away entirely. Something purer than rage, more wonderful than angels, not something hopeful but Hope itself waits within.
Inside is not a crime scene. Just a pile of burial clothes and a neatly folded linen face cloth. There is no sign of vandalism or theft. There is no angel to announce good news or to rebuke them for searching for the living among the dead. In fact, the scene in the tomb is more akin to what you find in the spare bedroom after a well-mannered guest spends the night but has to head out early: a clean and orderly room, sheets pulled off the bed in a little pile, blanket folded. All that’s missing is a little thank you note.
It’s quiet. A little too quiet after all they’ve been through. Minds still racing, they consider the scene before them. If the body has been stolen by the Jewish guards, why did the guards take the time to fold up the face cloth? If the Romans wanted to relocate him to a different grave, why did they go through the stink and mess of unwrapping a dead body? If it was grave robbers looking for gold and jewels, why did they take the body with them? Nothing is adding up. What has happened to the body of Jesus?
Over the centuries the human mind has cooked up all kinds of theories to solve this mystery. I don’t know what Sherlock Holmes would have deduced, but this time John solves the mystery rather quickly: “the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed.”
With his faith John can re-tell the story. Sometime early that morning, life returned to the dead body of Jesus. The tightly wrapped linen shroud loosened, the embalmed body within it warmed and stirred. Arms free, Jesus shed the shroud, placing it where he had lain. And then, deciding to leave his disciples a simple clue, he folded up the face cloth and placed it to the side like a dinner table napkin.
And what does that clue, the folded face cloth, tell John?
It says, “Jesus was here,” words on the wall in Jesus’ own handwriting telling them this is no accident or crime, that no struggle has taken place here, that this is all part of the plan.
It says, “All is well. Take your time, I’m in no hurry,” as if rising from the dead is nothing more than rising from a Sunday afternoon nap.
It says, “I’m alive, see you soon,” a thoughtful note left behind by someone who has gone next door to borrow a stick of butter.
No wonder “the disciples went back to their homes.” There is no mention of a foot race back home. There is no mention of shouts of victory. There is no longer the fearful, fretful rush that Mary Magdalen’s words set off.
Instead, there is peace. Peace as they realize they are caught up in something that is beyond them, beyond their comprehension and control. Jesus is up to something, something good, and for now their job is to sit back and watch the plan unfold. Their rage has melted down into quiet expectation. Their hearts, pumping adrenaline moments before, ready for action, has been subdued into calm submission. Their frantic effort to figure out and fix a hopeless situation has been replaced by humble faith in the resurrected Lord.
Can you believe it? All this peace from a little folded up linen cloth.
