I have written before about how extraordinary I find the resurrection narratives of John’s gospel; how they seem to be pushing beyond the conventional structures of narrative: open-ended and demanding a personal response.

I have written before about how extraordinary I find the resurrection narratives of John’s gospel; how they seem to be pushing beyond the conventional structures of narrative: open-ended and demanding a personal response. (What actually happens between Mary Magdalene’s “Rabboni” and Jesus’ “Don’t cling to me”? Does Thomas obediently put his fingers into Jesus’ wounds or not? Why does Peter put his clothes on before plunging into the lake?)

This year I have been particularly struck by one particular detail – beautiful, moving and deeply strange. In John 20: 1-18 Mary goes to the tomb – early, while it is still dark – and finds the stone rolled away and the body gone. She rushes back to town and wakes Peter and John, who immediately run to the tomb – presumably leaving her to follow more slowly.

They make a pretty cursory inspection and then go back home (the gospel writer says that John “believed”, but this does not appear to affect his actions in any way), totally ignoring Mary, who stays there weeping. Even as she weeps she bends down to look into the tomb – and what she sees are two angels, one where Jesus’ head and one where his feet had been, with an empty space between them.

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