And in the Days After...

Visit to the Tomb

Visit to the Tomb

Sadness stretched across the land. Darkness covered everything as if blanketed in some black shroud. Plants and leaves rustled in the slight breeze. An owl hooted, calling out and breaking the heavy silence. The sun began to peak over the hills somewhere far off, an orange glow attempting to brighten the mood. Flowers tipped their heads towards the bit of warmth, hoping to grasp a moment of the sun's shadow.

No one was in the area. That is, no one but three women. Those three women each carried a jar of spices, their walk labored as they picked their way along the rocky path. No one said anything. They simply walked, a certain destination in mind.

The sun was slowly rising over the hills, yet Mary of Magdala wished it wasn't. She wished the sun would go away. The sun was too happy, and everything else was so sad. No one spoke as they walked the trail to the tomb. Not her, not Mary the mother of James, and not Salome. Mary almost wished for conversation—something to take her mind off the task soon to come. Yet she didn't know what to say. If she tried, she'd probably break down in tears.

Suddenly, Mary could see it. Right there before her. The tomb. The tomb that held her Savior's body—unmoving, unbreathing. But something was different...

Almost as if realization struck her in the face, Mary dropped the jar of spices. It shattered onto the rocks, the liquid spilling over her bare feet while the aroma overpowered the air. She fell to the ground, the jagged rocks digging into her knees, yet she hardly felt the pain.

"Mary, what it is?" Salome asked.

She obviously didn't see what Mary was seeing. Why couldn't she see? Was Mary of Magdala insane? Was this all a horrible dream? Hoping so, Mary pointed towards the tomb, still somewhat a distance off.

The other two gasped, almost dropping the jars they carried just as Mary had.

"Oh, Mary..." the mother of James cried. "What has happened?"

"The Romans?" Salome wondered.

Unable to speak, Mary regained her equilibrium. She quickly picked her way along the rocky path, stepping in places that wouldn't cut her feet. She left her two friends standing behind her and only focused on one task—reaching the tomb.

When she did, it was like some horrible dream had taken place in three days' time. First, her Lord was beaten, scourged, and crucified before her very eyes, and now this. She could still see the blood gushing forth from his healing hands as the soldiers hammered the nails into them. She could still hear his cry to his Father to have mercy on those who persecuted him... She didn't know if she would ever be able to erase those memories from her mind.

And now this incident only brought forth more horrid thoughts. She remembered only two days before how she had fought and cried for her Lord, and how Nicodemus had dragged her out of the tomb. Then she remembered the large stone being rolled over the entrance, separating her from her Lord indefinitely.

But that stone was no more, for it was cracked in two, lying on the ground. Mary didn't know how this could have happened. How had the Romans managed to move the stone, and somehow break it in two clean pieces? Or had it not been the Romans? Bandits? Overcome with grief at the thought of criminals destroying the body of her Lord, she fell to the ground and covered her eyes. She shook uncontrollably as the tears began falling from her cheeks. She wailed so loudly, she hardly heard the voice call her.

"Woman."

Glancing up through tears, Mary spotted two men sitting atop the tomb. Had they been there all this time? No, couldn't have been, for Mary would have noticed the luminescent white glow coming from them. She didn't see their faces, even, for the glow was so powerful. It was as if lightning stood beside them. She simply saw their garments and their body shape that informed her they were, indeed, humans.