IN ADVENT 2024, I noted how no one listened to Elizabeth’s calling her son “John”, thus reminding me of a cartoon depicting a sole woman in a meeting of men, and the chairman’s words: “That’s an excellent suggestion, Miss Triggs. Perhaps one of the men here would like to make it.” On Easter morning, “Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women” get the Miss Triggs treatment.
The apostles dismiss their report, reluctant to engage with information which demands action. Such is natural human laziness: “I’ve made up my mind, don’t bother me with the facts.” Luke’s account does not reflect well on them. But there is still hope, to comfort evangelists bewildered by people’s resistance to Good News, and to offer hope to “ordinary” Christians, faithful to the resurrection despite being considered out of touch, odd, even deluded.
Determination not to be bothered with the facts is not the complete picture; for more sympathetic processes are unfolding, too. If the first stage of grief is denial, that is where the apostles find themselves at the moment when the women bring their news. I imagine them as afraid of getting their hopes up, and taking refuge in disbelief. It is also a face-saving option in front of others; better than risking risible naïvety.
Once free of the scrutiny of others, one apostle has the courage to make a better choice. Peter. Of course it is Peter; for he has already been through the darkness of denial, and must have recognised it for what it was: a literal dead end.
I imagine him alone, running to the tomb. Luke does not explain why his action as an individual is at odds with his reaction as one of the group of apostles. We must use our knowledge of human nature, and look within ourselves: not “what would Jesus do?” but “What would I do?” Certainty is impossible, but Peter’s secret need to be sure — despite all his doubt, despair, denial — makes good emotional sense.
Luke does not record the women’s reaction to being ignored. Perhaps they were used to not being listened to. Perhaps they talked among themselves instead, knowing that what they had seen was real. Any such conversations have vanished with them, leaving no trace in the text. Luke does not make everything obvious for his listeners and readers by filling that void. He leaves Peter’s thoughts, like the women’s, to our imagination. He focuses on their actions.
When the women heard good news from the angels, the first thing they did was to run and tell the people they were closest to. On hearing their news, Peter said one thing (“an idle tale”), but did another (he “ran to the tomb”). His secret, solitary recce was wisdom born of experience: he had just learned the hard way not to affirm what he could not live up to. So now, instead of saying something but doing nothing, he said nothing but did something. He went to see for himself.
His running to the tomb expresses hope against hope: thus Luke shows how, almost despite himself, expectation began to blossom in Peter’s guilty, doubting heart. He found no proof at the tomb — not even a helpful angel to decode the scene, like a crime technician in a police serial. There was an empty tomb and a pile of grave clothes. And that was enough for him to go home “amazed at what had happened”.
The angels speak to the women of resurrection using two different verbs. The first is misleadingly translated by NRSV and NIV alike: “has risen”. It is important to preserve that it is passive, “he has been raised”; for the resurrection is God’s act, God’s prerogative. Jesus is not acting by himself. The second verb, anastenai, is active. He has “got up”, a simple change of posture after lying down. It is not foolish to see this contrast of verbs as proof that the resurrection is both a gift bestowed by God, and something Jesus took on for himself. As we, too, shall one day find.
In English, we talk of deep darkness, but the Greek of this gospel sets the resurrection in the “deep morning”. At the dayspring, the women see what they see, but also perceive what they do not see: Christ is risen? He is risen indeed!
