not to.”
“I understand.”
And with that, John bade her leave and mounted the stairs to the upper room. Mark could tell that the rest were gathering to hear the latest from John. Mark thought about the Roman guards at the tomb. Surely the women would be troubled to discover them there. He set out his sandals and tunic and cloak, planning to go along and help talk the guards into breaking the seal on the stone and allowing the women in. Would the guard he had talked to recognize him and suspect him of having been sympathetic to the condemned?
Mark drifted off, confident that going was the right thing.
SIX
T hey won’t believe us!”
“I hardly believe it myself!”
“I don’t believe it!”
“But they were angels!”
Mark’s eyes popped open at the sound of the excited women’s voices. They flew past his window and lifted their skirts as they raced up the stairs. And he realized he had slept past dawn and missed his opportunity to go with them to the tomb.
What could they hardly believe, and what was that about angels? Whatever it was, they felt it justified racing straight to the upper room without even announcing themselves to the mistress of the house. Now they were rapping at the door above, and Mark heard murmuring and footsteps. He grabbed his cloak and slung it over his shoulders as he too headed upstairs.
By the time he arrived, the disciples—plus several of their greater company from Galilee who had come for Passover—were covering themselves and rubbing their eyes, seeming overwhelmed by Mary of Magdala, another Mary, and several others.
“What is it?” Peter said.
John, the last to rouse, squinted at the women as he approached, pulling on his sandals. They all seemed to talk at once until John held up a hand. “Please, please,” he said. “Sit and tell us all that has happened.”
The others looked to Mary Magdalene. “I hardly know where to begin,” she said, “and if we hadn’t seen it with our own eyes, we would not believe it ourselves. We went to the sepulcher just before dawn with our spices and oils, prepared to anoint Jesus’ body but wondering whether—even with all of us working together—we could roll away the huge stone. We arrived to find it already rolled away.”
“Oh, no!” a disciple said. “What more can these people do to us, to Him?”
“Was the body still there?” someone else said.
Mary Magdalene took a deep breath. “We entered the tomb to see and were met there by two angels who—”
“Angels!” Peter roared. “How do you know they were angels and not grave robbers? They could have been—”
The women shook their heads, and Mary of Magdala said, “Their countenance was like lightning and their raiment white as snow. We were scared speechless and hid our faces, but these men actually spoke to us!”
“They spoke? What did they say?”
The women all began to talk again, but finally Mary silenced the others. “They told us not to be afraid and that they knew we sought Jesus, who was crucified.”
“You’re dreaming,” someone said. “Why defile our memory of the Lord with fanciful tales?”
“Let me speak,” Mary said.
“Yes, let her finish!” John said.
“One of the angels said, ‘He is not here, for He has risen, as He said. Remember how He told you when you were yet in Galilee that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, but the third day would rise again. Behold the place where they laid Him.’ We looked, and He was not there.”
“Nonsense!”
“Foolishness!”
“Believe it or not at your own peril,” Mary said, “but the angels told us to come and tell you that you would soon see Him.”
“Idle tales!” someone raged, but Mark noticed Peter and John lock eyes. Then they burst from the room and flew down the stairs.
Mark turned to follow them but ran into his own mother. How much had she heard? Apparently enough to know that she didn’t want him following Peter and
“I understand.”
And with that, John bade her leave and mounted the stairs to the upper room. Mark could tell that the rest were gathering to hear the latest from John. Mark thought about the Roman guards at the tomb. Surely the women would be troubled to discover them there. He set out his sandals and tunic and cloak, planning to go along and help talk the guards into breaking the seal on the stone and allowing the women in. Would the guard he had talked to recognize him and suspect him of having been sympathetic to the condemned?
Mark drifted off, confident that going was the right thing.
SIX
T hey won’t believe us!”
“I hardly believe it myself!”
“I don’t believe it!”
“But they were angels!”
Mark’s eyes popped open at the sound of the excited women’s voices. They flew past his window and lifted their skirts as they raced up the stairs. And he realized he had slept past dawn and missed his opportunity to go with them to the tomb.
What could they hardly believe, and what was that about angels? Whatever it was, they felt it justified racing straight to the upper room without even announcing themselves to the mistress of the house. Now they were rapping at the door above, and Mark heard murmuring and footsteps. He grabbed his cloak and slung it over his shoulders as he too headed upstairs.
By the time he arrived, the disciples—plus several of their greater company from Galilee who had come for Passover—were covering themselves and rubbing their eyes, seeming overwhelmed by Mary of Magdala, another Mary, and several others.
“What is it?” Peter said.
John, the last to rouse, squinted at the women as he approached, pulling on his sandals. They all seemed to talk at once until John held up a hand. “Please, please,” he said. “Sit and tell us all that has happened.”
The others looked to Mary Magdalene. “I hardly know where to begin,” she said, “and if we hadn’t seen it with our own eyes, we would not believe it ourselves. We went to the sepulcher just before dawn with our spices and oils, prepared to anoint Jesus’ body but wondering whether—even with all of us working together—we could roll away the huge stone. We arrived to find it already rolled away.”
“Oh, no!” a disciple said. “What more can these people do to us, to Him?”
“Was the body still there?” someone else said.
Mary Magdalene took a deep breath. “We entered the tomb to see and were met there by two angels who—”
“Angels!” Peter roared. “How do you know they were angels and not grave robbers? They could have been—”
The women shook their heads, and Mary of Magdala said, “Their countenance was like lightning and their raiment white as snow. We were scared speechless and hid our faces, but these men actually spoke to us!”
“They spoke? What did they say?”
The women all began to talk again, but finally Mary silenced the others. “They told us not to be afraid and that they knew we sought Jesus, who was crucified.”
“You’re dreaming,” someone said. “Why defile our memory of the Lord with fanciful tales?”
“Let me speak,” Mary said.
“Yes, let her finish!” John said.
“One of the angels said, ‘He is not here, for He has risen, as He said. Remember how He told you when you were yet in Galilee that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, but the third day would rise again. Behold the place where they laid Him.’ We looked, and He was not there.”
“Nonsense!”
“Foolishness!”
“Believe it or not at your own peril,” Mary said, “but the angels told us to come and tell you that you would soon see Him.”
“Idle tales!” someone raged, but Mark noticed Peter and John lock eyes. Then they burst from the room and flew down the stairs.
Mark turned to follow them but ran into his own mother. How much had she heard? Apparently enough to know that she didn’t want him following Peter and
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