I awoke in the dark that Sunday with my eyes swollen from weeping. For a moment, I could not remember why, and then it all came back to me in a sickening rush, and my stomach lurched. My beloved friend and teacher was dead! 

I had witnessed unspeakable horrors the previous Friday, like the shattering cruelty of the soldiers and the ugliness of the leering, bloodthirsty crowd. I had seen the sorrow and loneliness in Jesus’ eyes as he made his way, slowly and agonizingly, to Golgotha. 

I had felt helpless because all I could do was follow along with the other women and the apostle John. We gathered beneath the cross, and we were all shocked and grief-stricken, especially Jesus’ mother. 

My head ached from the memories. I dressed quickly that Sunday. I had a terrible sense of urgency because Jesus’ body had been placed in a tomb, but there hadn’t been time to anoint the body properly. 

I knew it might be dangerous to go alone, but all I could think about was the broken and bloodied body of my friend. I made my way, in the dark, to the garden where the tomb was. As I hurried along, I remembered what my life had been like before meeting Jesus. 

So many people had shunned me because I was tormented by demons, and people were afraid of me. But Jesus had walked right up to me without fear, and he had sensed my terrible suffering. He had cast out seven demons from me — and in that moment, I was renewed. From then on, I became a follower of this gentle man, who could see into people’s hearts. 

I began weeping again, as more memories rushed in. There had been that heartrending moment when Jesus cried out, “It is finished,” and died. The sky had grown angry, and the earth began trembling, and people were screaming in fear. I thought the world was ending. 

Afterwards, I heard that some people had witnessed the dead emerging from tombs and walking in the city. I had seen the shattered look on the centurion’s face when he realized he had helped kill an innocent man. 

Awash in memories, I finally arrived at the garden, where the birds were just awakening. What happened next still makes me shiver with fear. I looked at the grave and noticed the stone covering the entrance was gone! 

In a panic, I started running until I got to the house where Peter and John were staying. I’ll never forget the look on their faces when I told them someone had taken the Lord’s body from the tomb. 

Without saying a word, they began running to the garden, with me following behind. When they got to the tomb, I watched them examine it to see that it really was empty. Instead of staying with me and trying to figure out what had happened, they left, but I felt I had to stay. 

I was overcome with grief, and the tears began flowing again. And then, stooping down, I peered into the black mouth of the tomb, and I was utterly astonished and mystified to see two glowing figures in shimmering clothing, sitting where Jesus’ body had been. They asked me, “Woman, why are you weeping?”

I told them about Jesus and my fear that someone had stolen his body. Then, I don’t know why, something made me turn around, and I saw a man standing there. He had to be the gardener, and I immediately suspected he had stolen the body. 

He asked me two questions: “Woman, why are you weeping?” and “Whom do you seek?” I was afraid of him because of the terrible thing I thought he had done, but I knew I had to ask him where the body was. 

Suddenly, his tone of voice changed, and he said just one word: “Mary.” And right away, I knew it was Jesus. You see, no one ever spoke my name with such kindness. I was utterly astonished as I realized he was alive! There was so much I wanted to say, but only one word came out, “Rabboni!” 

I was overjoyed to see him and reached out to touch his arm, but he moved away. “Do not hold me,” he said, “for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” He gave me a message for the others: “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”

The hardest thing I ever did was leave him that day. I didn’t know if I would ever see him again, but I knew I had to obey, so I went to the disciples. “I have seen the Lord,” I told them, and I gave them the message. 

I have often wondered why Jesus revealed himself to me, of all people. But then I recalled the question he had asked me: “Why are you weeping?” And I remembered something that had touched me deeply about Christ: He could never bear to see someone cry.