The Third Day

Extract 84
In just a few minutes it will be daybreak, the Sabbath will be over. My mind goes back to the Magi and the gifts they brought. Now of course I understand Myrrh. They knew. 'Must not the son of man suffer – and then be glorified?' How often we only hear what we want to hear.

So now, Mary and I will go to the tomb and anoint my son. Strange, I feel more for Mary than for myself. She has lost so much and had poured out so much on Jesus. How lost she looks. For her sake, I need to do this with her.

Extract 85
As we approached the tomb in the half-light, for a moment it seemed as if we were back at Bethany, outside Lazarus' tomb. Now I understood why Jesus had wept. Not for his friend who would soon be raised, but for death itself. For those who would, just a few days later, be stood outside his tomb.

My thoughts were scattered a moment later as an earthquake hit the garden. Both of us fell and when the dust settled we saw that the guards had gone and the stone was rolled away. A thrill went through my heart 'even the stones recognise him', but Mary was distressed assuming something even worse had happened. When we reached the tomb we couldn't see inside, it was still too dark, but one thing was clear. Jesus was not there. As we turned around two angels stood in place of the guards and asked simply 'Why do you seek the living amongst the dead?' Again my heart raced, could it really be? But Mary could not be consoled, could not hear anything other than what her mind and heart had told her for years. 'You are a worthless woman, nothing good ever happens for you – and when it does it is taken away'. Gently I led her back to the house, quietly giving thanks to God, frightened that my heart would overflow and sweep me away.

Extract 86
I'm in the house alone for a few minutes. Peter had come back whilst Mary and I were out. He looked ashamed and as soon as I told them about the empty tomb, he and John ran off for something to do. Mary couldn't stand the silence so she too has gone back to the garden.

But I don't need to. I know. It's the third day. I know Jesus, he'll deal with the boys later. But he'll want some time with Mary first. She needs healing, restoring. She needs to know that he will always be there for her.

That's what Jesus does. He puts the universe to one side to focus on the one. And he does it for everyone. A new covenant, in his blood. A new beginning, a new freedom, a new wholeness from his broken body.

It's getting light. The light of the world is back and nothing can ever put it out..

The Cross

Extract 82
I'm so angry. That wasn't a trial, it was a conspiracy to murder. Our Chief Priests and the Roman Governor and worse, the people Jesus healed, the ones he saved, the ones he has given his life to reach.. I can hardly speak about it. Pilate washed his hands. What a travesty, the man who mixed the blood of those he had killed with the Temple sacrifices, suddenly a convert to our rituals. 'What is truth' he dared ask of my son. My son is the truth! The truth is that frightened men have done what they always do. Kill and destroy what is good. But it's the ordinary people I can't understand. Jesus raised them up, he gave them real hope. But when Pilate offered to release Jesus, they asked for a thug instead. When Pilate declared himself innocent of Jesus' blood, they cursed themselves and all generations 'Let his blood be on us and on our children'. Fools! Don't they understand anything? He ordered Jesus to be beaten then crucified at noon. In less than an hour my son will be torn apart by those he loved. Mary and John tell me to stay in the house. But how can I? Of course a sword will pierce my heart, watching my son die. But the people have deserted him, his friends have deserted him. I'm his mother! How can I not be there?

Extract 83
It was strange. Awful,and yet, I don't know. More real than real. Somewhere deep inside me there is a peace, a shalom, that I can't explain.

My son is dead. I watched as his tortured body collapsed under the weight of the cross. My strong carpenter, unable to carry wood. I saw the hammer raised and a thousand times in my mind saw the nails pierce his wrists. I heard the crowd taunting him, the Chief Priests mocking. I heard the silence as the cross-piece of death was raised.

I was there. I heard the Officer declare Jesus to be the son of God as he witnessed his dignity. I heard Jesus tell John to look after me. I stood as that supernatural darkness covered the earth.

All of this should have destroyed me. But I felt as I did all those years ago when Gabriel was with me. Warmed by God’s presence, peaceful even in the middle of the storm. Now, on this most holy Sabbath of the year, it is as if God is somehow with me, not allowing this bruised reed to break. As I sit, the scriptures seem to be taking on a different shape. Jesus' words giving them new meaning. The third day he said. New wine, new wineskins, a surprising celebration on the third day.

And somewhere, beyond all reason, hope is alive in me again.

Betrayal

Extract 79
They've taken him. He didn't come back last night. None of them came back. John returned late this morning, he looked terrible and I knew something awful had happened. Judas has betrayed Jesus. He brought the Sanhedrin guard to Gethsemane and accused him of treason. We don't know what has happened since, Peter tried to start a fight, but Jesus wouldn't let him, now he's disappeared along with all the others.

It can't end like this, it can't.

Extract 80
Mary's come to be with me. She says that there was some sort of hearing of the Sanhedrin last night after Jesus was arrested. I can hardly believe it, our law doesn't allow trials after sunset, how can they accuse Jesus of breaking the law when they disregard it? Surely someone will come to their senses. If only Jesus had come home.

Extract 81
There's to be another trial. The Jewish authorities are demanding the death penalty, but they're afraid of the people so they want the Romans to do it. Pilate has agreed to the hearing being outside so that we Jews don't have to become unclean by entering the court building so close the Sabbath. Why would he do that? He hates us and our traditions. He must have already agreed to kill my son. I feel sick, how can it end like this? All those promises, all those words of hope that Jesus spoke. How could they mean this?

Passover

Extract 76
Passover at last, the sense of expectation is incredible, everyone expecting Jesus to declare himself the Messiah. Everyone thinks that in just a few days, we will be free of the Romans, free from oppression. I long to make it stop, but I know I can't. Anyway, tonight should be a welcome break from all the madness. Jesus, the family, his friends, celebrating God's goodness, the salvation of our God.

Extract 77
It was so moving. Jesus and some of his friends have gone on to Gethsemane to pray, I'm too full of such a wonderful night to sleep yet. Jesus led us through the meal. Our hosts had a young boy called John Mark and he had the honour of asking the questions 'Why this meal, why this night'. Then, as we ate, Mary came in weeping. She had a jar of perfume, I can't imagine how much it must have cost or what she must have sacrificed to buy it. But she brought it to where Jesus was. I expected her to unstop the jar and pour a little onto his feet, I imagine everyone who had seen her thought the same. But she didn't. With a crash that silenced the room, she broke the whole jar and added to the shock by uncovering her head, unpinning her hair like a prostitute. Then she washed his feet with her tears and with gasps from everyone, began to dry his feet with her hair. Finally, extravagantly, she anointed his feet with the Nard. It was such a wholehearted act of worship, so typical of this courageous woman, that no one spoke for a minute. Then Judas shattered the moment complaining at the waste, but Jesus rebuked him. 'What this woman has done is beautiful and prophetic, anointing me for burial'. And then what must have cut Judas who was always looking for fame; 'Mary's name and this act of kindness will be remembered in all generations.' My heart filled with pride and love for Mary and my son, but the rage in Judas eyes disturbed me.

In a moment he was gone and all that was left was the sweet fragrance of the perfume.

Extract 78
Eventually, the meal continued until at the end Jesus stood and moved from his place to the spare place set as always for Elijah. Early in the meal he had shocked us by changing one of the traditional prayers when he blessed the bread, speaking of brokenness. Now he did something that had never been done before. He took the cup poured for Elijah and said 'This is the cup of the New Covenant, which is sealed in my blood, shed for many for the remission of sin' then he passed the cup to each of us to drink from. No-one knows what it means but the world seemed to stop as he spoke. A new covenant, the law fulfilled, a new beginning for us all.

Perhaps there is hope in this Passover after all.

Palm Sunday

Extract 74
The whole crowd had gone to Jerusalem today – they were beginning to look for somewhere to celebrate Passover, there are too many of us to hold it here. They came back so excited and talking of revolution, it scared me all over again. Apparently Jesus had gone to the temple and as usual the outer courts that are supposed to be for women and non-Jews were filled with market stalls. Jesus took the belt off his coat and used it as a whip to drive off the traders, then he overturned the tables, making way for people to worship God again. So now he has the full set. All the signs the prophets told us to look for in the Messiah. Cleansing lepers, healing a man born blind, raising the dead. And now an overwhelming zeal for the house of the Lord. The people aren't stupid, they're convinced now. So am I, I just don't think he's the sort of Messiah they're looking for.

They're still hearing what they want to hear.

Extract 75
One week to Passover and the whole area is in turmoil with expectation. Jesus sent a couple of them into Jerusalem and they've come back with a donkey and the news has gone out. ‘Behold your King, riding on a donkey’. We walked up from Bethany to the top of the Mount of Olives and as we came over the top the sight was amazing. Thousands of people – it seemed like the whole of Jerusalem, lining the path, hoping, waiting. Part of me wanted to join them, rejoicing that my son has found such a willing response, but most of me knows how quickly adulation can turn to hatred. But all those thoughts were swept aside when in full view of the crowd, Jesus took this unbroken donkey, threw a blanket on it and mounted. I imagine most people expected the donkey to throw him straight off again, but instead it seemed to recognise who wanted to ride him. As they started to move down the mountain an extraordinary cheer broke from the crowd. Someone cried out 'Hosanna to the son of David, blessed is he comes in the name of the Lord' It was a cry that was taken up all round the crowd as people threw their coats into the path or cut down palm leaves to pave the way. As we made our way down, the authorities were desperate to stop what must be looking to the Romans like the start of a revolution and demanded that Jesus silence the crowd. The donkey recognised who he was, the people recognised him. It seemed to me that even the earth recognised him. He responded 'If I tell the people to stop, the stones will cry out'.

The people cheered all the more and the authorities had no answer.

Lost Things

Extract 72
What a wonderful week. Everyone wanted to talk with Lazarus, ask all the obvious questions. He just shook his head. 'One day I will die again, we must all face death, but I know that Jesus will never leave me, that he will raise me up on that last day'. And of course Jesus took the opportunity of all the visitors to carry on teaching about the kingdom. There seemed to be more urgency, not impatience exactly, but a new cutting edge to all he said. I wish I could remember it all, but I suppose that which is important to us is what we hold onto best. He told the story of a persistent widow who nagged until she got what she wanted. As he told the story he looked at me, no doubt thinking back to that wedding in Cana when I was the nagging widow! Then again, looking at me, the poignant story of the builder about to start build a tower. 'Would he not first pause to count the cost to see if he was able to pay the price'. He's my son, but he understands so much of what I feel, what it has cost us as a family.

I can barely imagine what it is costing him.

Extract 73
But my favourite was the story of the lost things. Jesus started it as any Rabbi might have done, two stories with the same message to get our attention, then the climax with the third story. He told us about a shepherd who had one hundred sheep. That got a lot of smiles, we're only four miles from the fields of Bethlehem where there were thousands of sheep being prepared for Passover. But one of the sheep got lost, so the shepherd left the ninety nine and when he found the lost sheep, carried it back. He was so pleased that he had a party with his friends. That got lots of smiles too, they're a strange bunch, but they always enjoy a party! Then the second story following the pattern. A woman lost one of the ten coins from her wedding headdress. She ripped the house apart until she found it, then when she did, she invited her friends round for a party. Lots more laughter. Then Jesus began the third story. We all knew how it would go, something of great worth would be lost, there would be a 'do whatever it takes' search then a party when it was found. So he began 'Once there was a man with two sons'. He didn't get any further. Peter, always impatient for the food to really begin, stood up and said. 'Yes, we know, one of the sons gets lost, the Father goes off and searches for him, then when he finds him, he comes home and they have a party'. Jesus smiled and told the story. Yes, one of the sons got lost. Yes, he was lonely and miserable and longed to be home. Yes there was a party when he returned. But nobody searched.

There was silence. If a sheep is worth seeking, if a coin is worth seeking why did he change the story when a son was lost?

Lazarus

Extract 69
Lazarus died during the night. It's awful. Not only do we have to cope with the grief of losing such a dear friend but there's the unspoken accusation from the girls. Your son. Our friend. Why? I have no answers. So many deaths, so much pain, so much I don't understand. Where does this end? When do we see this kingdom of yours? How much more must we endure?

Extract 70
Jesus and his disciples arrived today, four days too late. The girls wouldn't go to see him at first. Martha and Mary, the most hospitable people I know, couldn't bring themselves to welcome him. Eventually Martha went and Jesus must have said something to her because she was able to persuade Mary to greet him as well. Finally, we all went to the tomb. I watched Jesus closely. He'd been saying to everyone that Lazarus would be raised from the dead. That he'd waited until he had died so that we could all witness this greater miracle. It sounded absurd even to me. So I watched him as we drew close to the tomb. As he saw the stone, sealed and immovable, the finality of death, as he heard the women begin to weep again, tears flooded down his face. I heard the whispers. 'See how much he loved him, a pity he couldn't have come sooner and healed him'. But he hadn't wept when he heard that Lazarus had died, he seemed genuinely to believe that this could end well.

So why the tears? It seemed to me that it was the scene at the tomb not the death of his friend that was moving him. Why Jesus, why?

Extract 71
I hardly need to write what happened next, everyone knows! Jesus turned to the servants and told them to roll back the stone. We were all horrified. Martha was first to react 'No, Jesus, please' then trying to think of a reason to stop this from getting any worse 'he's been dead four days, the body will have started to decompose...'. More than a reason, the hint of an accusation, a warning – you could have played a part in this, but you chose not to, now stop trying to make it alright, it's too late. But in the gentle way Jesus has, he persisted. 'Lazarus is not dead, death does not have the last word' and I remembered the little girl and hope rose in me again. I looked at Martha and held her gaze. Eventually she nodded and the servants reluctantly rolled the stone back. Jesus stepped forward, lifted his hands and prayed. Everyone was nervous, superstition mingled with anticipation but none of us was prepared for what happened. As he finished praying Jesus called out in a loud voice 'Lazarus, come out'. It was so extraordinary, yet so natural. It sounded as if he were calling to his friend to come out of the house to see something interesting.

But he wasn't he was calling to a man four days dead. For the longest moment there was nothing but growing anticlimax and disappointment. Then from the shadows, movement and Lazarus, struggling with the burial bandages stumbled into the light. No-one moved, there were no cheers, no cries, nothing. Lazarus stumbled forward and Jesus spoke gently again. 'Friends, unbind him'.

Sometimes with Jesus there is a greater miracle on offer than mere healing. In our desperation to avoid the pain of death we had almost missed the joy of resurrection.