| The Gardener Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” The custom was to mourn for the dead, to anoint a lifeless body with sweet spices and clothe it in linen before its final internment into darkness – and so two women worked to serve a corpse. Sitting in a garden of burial flowers, they labored to grind the herbs into powder filling the air with an aromatic storm as their own feelings rose and swelled like the sea, finding expression only in tears that came in intermittent waves to water this garden of despair. Billows of grief pounded relentlessly against the hollow reefs within making it seem like hours before anyone could speak; and when the words finally came, they swept from their lips in questions – “How?” and “Why?” He had come to them as shining light and now He was gone, leaving them to mourn a love, a life of song that had so magnificently touched their own. Was faith such a difficult crop to grow that it was still too small to comfort them now? Or was the garden paved with stone? There was silence in the aftermath as there is in the wake of all storms. In the quiet, they gathered up their baskets and stood facing the west where the sun was hesitating upon the horizon. Then Mary Magdalene sighed and released into the still, fragrant air, a song of flowers. “Awake, oh north wind and come you south; blow upon my garden, that the spices may flow out. Let my Beloved come into His garden and eat His pleasant fruits...” She sang until her companion begged her to stop; for there was no hope in the end, no fruit would ever grow upon this vine again. The Lily is dead! And weeds will cover the souls of all those who danced in this garden! She grabbed a handful of crushed petals and held them against her friend’s cheek. “Mary, no gardener however skilled could bring these flowers back to life again!” Then the wind touched their baskets throwing scented masses into the sky to who knows where? Early the next morning the women walked in darkness wondering who would remove the great stone that separated them from their love. The sun was just beginning to abandon the horizon, returning from its long journey to find their path and lead them to the entrance of the sepulcher; then light discovered the opening no longer blocked by stone. In surprise, the women stopped. Where had the guards gone? And Mary said, “Do you see? Already our prayers have been answered. We may tend to Him now.” A faint light was emanating from the tomb. Startled, the women peered inside. The baskets they were carrying suddenly fell spilling a fragrant path across the tomb floor. Then a kind, unfamiliar voice spoke as a breeze stirred against the walls throwing pebbles clattering to the ground. And the voice said, “Why do you seek the Living among the dead?” The angel pointed to the empty burial clothes – then the women turned and fled. Mary, weak and stumbling, stopped far behind her friend. “I cannot leave until I know where they’ve taken Him!” And she began to cry. Then a strong, clear voice spoke behind her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”She didn’t notice the flowers coming to life by her feet. She didn’t see the nail scarred hands as she dried her eyes thinking, “I will ask this man where they have taken my Lord,” for she had assumed He was the gardener, and she was right – the Gardener who brings crushed flowers back to life. I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die.” John 11:25:26 |