That First Easter Morning

Christians all over the world will celebrate Easter in a few days. It is the most significant holiday on the church calendar. Without Easter there would be no church, no New Testament, and no glimpse of the human face of God.

Yet precisely what happened on that first Easter morning remains a mystery, but something did happen, something so extraordinary the world has never been the same. The course of human history changed just after dawn when three women visited the tomb of Jesus to anoint his lifeless body, only to discover an empty grave.

Theories abound as to what happened to the body of Jesus. Some suggest that his body was stolen by the disciples of Jesus; others theorize that Jesus was not really dead when he was taken down from the cross and escaped the burial place with the help of friends. And, of course, people of faith believe that Jesus was raised to life by an act of God.

We shouldn’t be surprised that there are such varied opinions as to what happened on that first Easter morning. The three women who were the first witnesses didn’t know what to make of it either. They were frightened and confused. A stranger dressed in white met the women at the entrance of the tomb and told them that Jesus had been raised from the dead and would soon join them in Galilee.

The story has become so familiar after two millennia that it scarcely registers with many of us, almost as though we expect a dead man to rise from the grave. The women, on the other hand, did not have 2,000 years of faith tradition to assure them. The Gospel of Mark, the earliest of the Gospel records, tells us that upon hearing the stranger’s words, “They [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid” (Mk. 16:8).

I think their response is understandable. The church has had centuries to get over the shock of the empty tomb and wrestle with the theological implications; the first eyewitnesses had no New Testament to read, tomes of theological books to consult or available Easter sermons to guide them. I think fear and astonishment was a highly appropriate response.

Most biblical scholars believe that the account of the women leaving the tomb was the final scene in Mark’s Gospel. Later versions of Mark’s Gospel continued for another 12 verses and presented a much less enigmatic story. In these versions faith in the resurrected Jesus was embraced with a kind of certainty, as signs and wonders accompanied the ministry of the disciples.

It appears, though, that the last 12 verses were added to soften the rather blunt ending of verse 8 and add credibility to the authority of the church. The oldest and most reliable manuscripts, however, end with verse 8, leaving readers with feelings of perplexity, not all that unlike the reactions of the three women.

Then, too, the nature of faith presents a strong case that Mark intended to end his Gospel with verse 8. While we would like all our i’s dotted and t’s crossed when it comes to matters of faith, there are usually a great many i’s and t’s left incomplete. Even when we have ventured out in faith, even when we have committed ourselves to the ways of God, we are left with more questions than answers. Just because we have taken the step of faith doesn’t mean that all of our doubts have been erased.

I’ve often thought about what my reaction would have been had I visited Jesus’ tomb on that first Easter morning. On seeing the empty tomb and upon hearing the words of the stranger, I would have been confused and certainly suspicious, and I’m pretty sure I would have left the tomb that day just as bewildered as the women.

Before anyone gets too haughty, thinking their faith experience superior, perhaps a flashback to the time when the disciples encountered the risen Jesus would help us understand that faith is anything but simple. According to the New Testament, the risen Jesus was materially different after the resurrection—some didn’t recognize him, he appeared to suddenly vanish from the disciples’ sight, and he moved through solid walls. So strange was the resurrected figure of Jesus that the Gospel of Matthew ends, for example, with the disciples still uncertain as to who this man was, even though they had been in his presence. Upon seeing Jesus, Matthew writes, “They [the disciples] worshipped him and doubted” (Matt. 28:17).

What a remarkable statement! The very ones who worshipped Jesus also doubted. While some translations render the text, “they worshipped him, but some doubted,” making it sound as though there were some disciples who believed, while others doubted, the Greek construction allows for both translations.

So, which translation is correct? Maybe each of us has to answer that question for him or herself. What I have learned in my own faith journey, however, is that the worship of God does not preclude harboring doubts. Doesn’t our human nature suggest that authentic faith can be both half-sure as well as whole-hearted?

Most of us are like the man in Mark’s Gospel who believed but also struggled with unbelief. He confessed to Jesus, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief” (Mk. 9:24). We are, after all, human beings, and the world we live in sends all kinds of mixed signals regarding the plausibility of faith. Who among us has not wondered about the attentiveness and reliability of God when a young child dies or a tragedy wipes out innocent lives or any number of inexplicable things unfairly rock our world. We may believe with all our hearts in the resurrection of Jesus, but that does not make us immune from life’s day to day struggles or resolve all of our doubts.

Still, something did happen on that first Easter morning long ago. Something wonderful and mysterious occurred that forever changed the lives of the women, the lives of Jesus’ disciples, and all those who embark on his way of life. With the empty tomb, hope became more than a dream but a possibility. The followers of Jesus may have struggled to express what took place on that first Easter Sunday, and their hearts and minds may have become tangled and twisted trying to sort it all out, but one thing became clear—what happened on Easter morning transformed the graveyard from a certain dead-end to a hope-filled promise.

Yes, we still grieve at the injustices of the world, we still scratch our heads in frustration and anger when tragedy strikes for no reason, but we do not agonize over these realities without hope (1 Thess. 4:13). Easter Sunday, the empty tomb—even with all our misgivings—gives birth to hope. It was true 2,000 years ago, it is true today, and it will be true forever!