IN THE GARDEN
Mary and the other women step into Joseph’s garden, straining to see through the darkness of early morning. Mary stumbles; Joanna grabs her elbow and helps her regain her balance.
“Careful, Mary! Don’t drop the spices!” she says.
Their anxious whispers to one another mingle with the chirps of the dawn chorus. Cool air and scent from the dewy ground refreshes them even as the crushing grief of the past two days hangs over their hearts.
Mary stoops to pick a sprig of mint from the herb garden, crushes the leaves to release the fresh aroma which also releases tears that tickle as they trickle down her cheeks. Is it possible to cry any more tears?
The first ray of bright sunlight lights up a patch of pure white cyclamen blooms that wave on tall stems in the gentle breeze. Leaning on the smooth grey bark of a young fig tree, Mary peers at the cave and gasps, “Where’s the stone?”
“It’s over there!” said Salome. “Who could have rolled it away?”
The sun slides a little higher over the horizon and illumines the entrance to the cave. As the women peep inside they see no sign of the body, and involuntarily bring their hands to their nostrils as a strong, pungent smell like resin and onions reaches them. Of course, they remember, Nicodemus gifted a generous amount of myrrh and aloes and anointed Jesus’ body before wrapping Him in clean linen.
As they retreat they are startled; a young man in a white robe sits to the right of the entrance. They gaze alternately into the gaping, empty tomb and up into the face of the young man who says:
‘Don’t be alarmed…you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.1
The women flee, feet pounding a cloud of dust.
“Our Lord is gone,” pants Joanna, “Who can have taken Him?” She stumbles on an exposed root and falls, sobbing in the dirt. Perspiring in spite of the cool dawn air, the women sink down under the shade of the gnarled terebinth tree.
Mary massages Joanna’s wrenched ankle. “What can we do? What can we say to the men? They will think we are crazy. Oh, Mary, I am so afraid!”
Mary’s hands tremble uncontrollably when she stops rubbing Joanna’s ankle. “Jesus said many times to trust our Father,” she remembers.
And Joanna adds,“‘ Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, 2 We don’t understand, Let’s pray!”
Long, slow breaths bring an awareness of the finches chirping in the leafy boughs overhead.
“That man in white,” counters Mary. “Did you hear what he said?”
“Something about Him not being here. That was obvious. The tomb is empty.”
Chests still heaving, Mary adds, “Joanna! The man in white said, ‘He has risen!’ He means Jesus is alive again! That’s why Jesus isn’t in the cave anymore!”
“And Jesus said he would rise on the third day. 3 It is the third day since He died. Back then I didn’t understand, or didn’t believe.”
Mary scrambles to her feet and offers her hand to pull Joanna up, too. “Come on, Joanna! We have been instructed to tell the Peter, and the others. Hurry!”
- Mark 16:6-7, New International Version
- Proverbs 3:5 NIV
- See Mark 9:31
by Andrea Kidd
If you enjoy my High Country News submissions, please see my substack for more: andreakidd.substack.com
