But Mary stood at the tomb weeping without. As therefore she wept, she stooped down into the tomb,
Peter and John had looked into the empty tomb and gone home. Mary Magdalene stayed there weeping, and stooped to look inside for herself — and everything in this verse turns on why she would not leave.
The two men had a home to go back to. Mary did not. One writer says what the world had become for her, and asks whether God ignored her tears:
They had a home. "But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb." She had no home in a world that had cast out her Lord. It was empty for her. The world was from now on marked, for her, by the tomb where they had laid Him, where she had last seen the body of her beloved Lord. It was no place for her, now that He was not there: the light had gone from her life. She was bereaved and without comfort, and stood weeping. She was deeply attached to Christ. Are you? God saw in that woman a heart that beat very true to the person of His Son. Do you think He was an unobservant witness of those tears which fell so freely?
She did not stay because she knew more. She had been told He would rise, and she had forgotten it. Love held her there, not understanding.
It is a striking instance of ignorant, yet genuine affection. She might have known His glorious resurrection. She ought to have remembered His words — "After three days I will rise again." Her faith and understanding fell short. Even so, her heart beat true to Him, her treasure. Contrast her with Peter and John, and does she not stand on a platform far above them? They can return to their home, satisfied that Jesus' body was not in the tomb, though they did not know where He was. This was not enough for Mary; her loyal heart longs to know where He is, and not finding Him, is ready to break with grief.
Not all weeping is the same. One writer separates grief that mourns Christ from the grief of the world, and says the two do not end alike.
The sorrow of love for Jesus mourns His absence, or feels any wrong done to Him. It is far different from the sorrow of the world, which produces death. It soon passes into life and peace through the grace of Jesus. Mary's sorrow was not fruitless, nor was it long. Other servants of the Lord, and the Lord Himself, whom she did not see, looked upon her.
The verse has her stooping to look inside. Peter and John had already searched that same tomb.
Peter and John looked into the tomb of Jesus and saw only the linen cloths lying, the wrappings of death. Mary looked into that same tomb. Her sight was blurred with weeping, yet she saw what they had not seen. Two angels in white sat there, one at the head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. Those angels were heavenly messengers. They wore the clothing of victory in what was once the stronghold of the defeated enemy. The men believed the grave was empty of their Lord and went home amazed. The woman stood still, unable to leave that spot, and she saw further than the men. She learned that heaven had something to say about that tomb.
One writer sets them beside the cherubim of Israel's tabernacle, the two figures over the ark. They were there, he adds, before Mary ever came:
When Mary appears, they do have a word of sympathy for her. But they were in the tomb before she came, and they would have been there even if she had never come. In the tabernacle the cherubim hung over the ark and mercy-seat, one on either side. So now the angels hang over the place in the tomb where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and the other at the feet.
Mary was now looking at angels and speaking with them. One writer says it changed nothing for her:
The vision before her eyes is in itself glorious, for they are angels whom she now sees! Her privileges are indeed very great, for she is speaking with heavenly beings! But gazing on and speaking with these cannot satisfy her longing soul. Even they, by their presence and by their words, cannot make up to her for the loss of Him.
- Stay. The others went home. Mary had no home in a world that had cast out her Lord, so she stayed — and the Lord Himself was looking on her.
- Love. She knew little and had forgotten His promise to rise. Still her heart held true, and God saw it.
- Weep. Sorrow that mourns Christ's absence is not the sorrow of the world. It soon passes into life and peace.
- Look. She stooped into the same tomb the men had searched, and saw more. Two angels in white sat there, like the cherubim over the mercy-seat, in the place death once held.
- Want Him. Angels could not fill the gap. Nothing short of the Lord Himself satisfies a heart that is looking for Him.
and beholds two angels sitting in white [garments], one at the head and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.
Mary Magdalene has come back to the grave. She believes someone has stolen the body. Looking in through her tears, she finds the place taken — not by the body she wants, but by two angels in white. Why does heaven set messengers at an empty grave? And why is Mary still in tears in front of them?
Peter and John went home. Mary stayed, and one writer links the angels to God's notice of her tears.
Peter and John had seen the evidence of the resurrection — they "saw and believed" — and they "went away again to their own home." They had a home. "But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb." She had no home in a world that had cast out her Lord. It was empty for her. It was no place for her, now that He was not there: the light had gone from her life. She was bereft and comfortless, and stood weeping. She was deeply attached to Christ. Are you? God saw in that woman a heart that beat very true to the person of His Son. Do you think He was an unobservant witness of those tears that fell so freely? What was the result? Angelic comforters appeared.
What Mary found in that place shows who holds it now.
It was not the linen clothes that she saw, the wrappings of death, but angels in white, heavenly messengers in garments of victory, now holding death's territory, which the Lord had subdued and taken. Their question seems to be one of surprise that someone who loved their Lord should weep on that great day.
John records where each angel sat. One writer sets that detail beside the ark of the covenant in Israel's tabernacle. There a carved angel, a cherub, stood at each end of its lid, the mercy seat.
When Mary appears, they do have a word of sympathy for her. But they were in the tomb before she came, and they would have been there even if she had never come. As the cherubim in the tabernacle hung over the ark and mercy seat, one on either side, so now in the tomb the angels hang over the place where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and the other at the feet.
The Gospels do not all report the same angels at the grave. One writer sets the appearances at different moments, beginning with the women who came there too.
The women's confusion turned to fear when two men in shining clothes suddenly appeared, standing beside them. Matthew mentions an angel rolling the stone away and sitting on it in view of the guards at the grave (Matt. 28:2-4). Mark speaks of the women seeing in the grave a young man sitting, clothed in a long white garment (Mark 16:5). John speaks of Mary Magdalene seeing two angels in white sitting inside the tomb (John 20:11-12). All four of these must have been at different times, yet not far apart. It is good to see this abundant angelic testimony to the fact of the resurrection of Christ.
Angels frightened the other women at the grave. Mary shows no fear at all, and one writer reads that calm as the measure of what filled her mind.
She looks again into that tomb, which she had known to be empty just before. Now she sees two angels in white sitting, one at the head and the other at the feet where the body of Jesus had lain. She feels and shows no alarm like the women described elsewhere. In ordinary circumstances, what surprise and fear such a sight must have caused her! Our evangelist does not attribute any such emotion to her in the smallest degree. Her heart was so taken up with the loss of Jesus, who had been taken from her, that the presence of all the angels, I may say, would have left her comparatively unmoved.
Earlier she told the disciples what she thought had happened. To the angels she says it again, with one word changed.
Absorbed with the thought of Christ, she expresses no surprise at seeing these angelic beings. She does not say to them what she had said to the disciples, "They have taken away the Lord." She says, "They have taken away my Lord." Whatever others may think of Jesus, Mary can say with all the confidence of love, "He is mine."
- Grief noticed. Mary stayed when the men went home. God did not overlook her tears, and angels came to comfort a woman with no home left in the world.
- Grief answered in white. Grave-clothes had lain there. Now messengers in white sat there. Heaven holds death's own ground.
- Grief framed. They sit at the head and the feet, like the cherubim over the mercy seat, gazing at the place where the body had lain.
- Grief confirmed. The Gospels report angels at the grave more than once, at different moments. That is abundant testimony that Christ is risen.
- Grief satisfied only by Him. Angels did not frighten Mary, and they did not satisfy her. Only "my Lord" would do.
And they say to her, Woman, why dost thou weep? She says to them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.
Two angels sit inside the empty tomb, and their question to Mary is about her tears. Her answer misses what the empty grave means, but it reveals a heart fixed on one Person alone.
Mary stayed at the tomb. There was nowhere else for her heart to go.
For her, without Jesus, the whole world was nothing but an empty tomb; her heart was emptier still. She stays there at the tomb, where the Lord she loved had been. Like Rachel in the Bible, she could not be comforted, because He was no more. She stoops down into the tomb cut in the rock and sees two angels. They ask her, "Why are you weeping?" God allows the full expression of this strong affection.
Earlier that morning she had told the disciples the same news in almost the same words. One word changed when she spoke it to the angels.
Absorbed with the thought of Christ, she expresses no surprise at seeing these angelic beings. To the disciples she had said, "They have taken away the Lord." Now she says, "They have taken away my Lord." Whatever others may think of Jesus, Mary can say with all the confidence of love, "He is mine."
Mary looks in and does not see the cloths of burial. Her reply to the angels is almost a question thrown back at them.
It was not the linen cloths she saw, the wrappings of death, but angels in white. They were heavenly messengers in garments of victory, now holding the territory of death that the Lord had conquered and taken. Their question seems to be one of surprise that someone who loved their Lord should weep on that great day... She might as well have said, "How could anyone ask me why I weep? Could I do anything else but weep, having lost my Lord?" She had no home where He was not. Even angels from heaven had no attraction for her.
Her words show she still looks for a dead body. Jesus had already said He would rise.
It is a striking instance of ignorant yet genuine affection. She might have known His glorious resurrection. She ought to have remembered His words: "After three days I will rise again." Her faith and understanding were lacking. But her heart stayed true to the One she loved and treasured. Contrast her with Peter and John — does she not stand far above them? They can return home, satisfied that Jesus' body was not in the tomb, though they did not know where He was. This was not enough for Mary.
Grief like hers is not the grief of a person without hope. Grace gives it a different end.
The sorrow of love for Jesus mourns His absence. It feels any wrong done to Him. This is far different from the sorrow of the world that works death. Through the grace of Jesus it soon passes into life and peace. Mary's sorrow was not fruitless, nor was it long... She had not yet read the signs of the grave correctly... The Lord was her Lord; she loved Him greatly, but as she saw it, men had taken Him and laid Him where she did not know. A soul may love the Lord and still be in the dark about His risen glory.
It would be easy to correct Mary. But correction is not what Christ values most here.
She wept because she could not find the dead body of her Lord. Your understanding might be quick to rebuke her tears. But there is something more precious to Christ than understanding: a heart that loves Him. The tears told Him of one who loved Him on earth. She missed Him now that He was dead, or now that she did not know where to find Him... Not that I would undervalue understanding. Only the knowledge of Christ risen could have dried Mary's tears. But do our hearts and consciences keep pace with what we know?
- Love stays. The others went home; Mary had no home where Christ was not, and the world without Him was an empty tomb.
- Love owns. To the disciples she said "the Lord." To the angels she says "my Lord" — the same loss, now personal.
- Love overlooks. Angels in white sat where the body had lain. Mary had no eyes for them. Only Christ Himself could fill that space.
- Love can be wrong. She should have remembered His promise to rise after three days. Her affection was real; her understanding was poor. Even so, she stands above the two who went home.
- Love is answered. Sorrow that mourns Christ's absence is not the world's hopeless grief. It was neither fruitless nor long. Only the knowledge of a risen Christ could dry it.
Having said these things she turned backward and beholds Jesus standing [there], and knew not that it was Jesus.
Mary Magdalene stands outside the tomb in tears, and the One she is weeping for is standing in front of her — unrecognised. How can the Lord stand that near and stay unknown, and who moves first to end it?
She has just spoken with two angels, and she leaves them mid-scene. One writer asks what we would have done in her place:
Suppose you and I saw two angels, what do you think we would do? Be honest. I think I would take a good long look at them. And I would probably think I was a very favoured person to see angels... But look at this woman. Angels had not the faintest attraction for Mary. She was not controlled by them, nor held by them. What does she do? She turns her back on them... You may tell me she was blind. Well, sometimes love is blinded by its very tears. But anyway, though her love was blind, mark, friends, the love was there.
Commentators differ on the reason for her failure to recognise Him. One traces it to the grief that filled her mind:
All she desired was in front of her eyes. Yet she was so taken up with her own sorrow and her own thoughts that she did not recognise her Lord. It was not, say, as with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, whose eyes were kept from seeing. At that moment she thought of Jesus only as buried and carried away from the tomb. So she was too absorbed with her own feelings to think of anything else.
Another looks instead at a change in Him, and notices that the same thing happened to others that same day:
The same thing happened when He met the two disciples going to Emmaus that afternoon. It happened again with the rest of the disciples in the upper room that evening. It was the same Jesus, but with a difference. He now wore a risen body — risen, though not yet glorified. So they did not identify Him at once. She mistook Him for the gardener. He was the Great Shepherd risen from the dead. He knew well that here was one of His sheep, wholly devoted to Him. She sought Himself alone, and wept because she did not know where to find Him.
She cannot close the gap. He does, and He does it by speaking.
Grace would now step in. She saw Jesus standing there and did not know that it was Jesus. How often it may be like this for our dull hearts! But He never acts below His name, and He speaks so that we may know Him. "Jesus says to her, Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?" This last was a leading question. Until a soul knows Him, however, there is still darkness, though there may be love.
Her blindness was not only emotional. She had a settled idea of what her Lord was, and resurrection did not fit inside it.
In her sadness Mary turns away from angels. Her sorrow and her devoted heart had brought the Lord near, though she did not know Him. She had known Him as a man here on earth, but she was not ready to know Him risen. The earthly relationship was all that she understood.
Even mistaken, her love is not wasted. It holds her in the very place where she finds Him.
She may lack understanding, but her love for Christ is an absorbing love that thinks only of Christ. She can find no rest and no home in a world where He is absent... But note that in this outside place she finds Christ, and Christ leads her into new and heavenly relationships. Her love to Christ detaches her from this world, and His company leads her into another world.
Mary's experience is not unique.
How often we have been in similar circumstances. In the middle of great disappointments or griefs, the Lord has drawn near to our souls, and we did not recognise Him. Instead of welcoming Him, we were more like the disciples who saw Jesus walking on the sea and thought they had seen a ghost, and cried out in fear.
- Love stays. Angels could not hold Mary, and an empty tomb could not send her home. Only the Person she loved mattered. Love kept her where He would appear.
- Love is blind. Grief filled her mind, and she knew Him only in an earthly relationship, so she did not know Him. Commentators differ on which weighed most, and some point to His risen body.
- He is near. The Lord was standing in front of her before she had any notion of it; sorrow does not push Him away, it draws Him close.
- He speaks. Recognition begins from His side, not hers: "He never acts below His name, and He speaks so that we may know Him."
- He leads on. In the outside place of loss she finds Christ, and He leads her into new and heavenly relationships.
Jesus says to her, Woman, why dost thou weep? Whom seekest thou? She, supposing that it was the gardener, says to him, Sir, if thou hast borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away.
Mary Magdalene stands outside the tomb at dawn and mistakes the risen Christ for the gardener. His two questions and her one answer show what love looks like while it grieves and does not yet understand.
Commentators offer different reasons why she failed to know Him. One points to the ordinary conditions of the moment:
She turned back, and there stood the risen Lord before her. She did not recognise Him at first. Perhaps the dim early morning light, and her eyes blinded by tears, may explain it. She supposed Him to be the gardener.
Another points to what she was not ready to expect:
Mary turns away from the angels in her sadness. Her sorrow and her devoted heart had brought the Lord near, though she did not know Him. She had known Him during His life on earth, but she was not prepared to know Him risen. The earthly relationship was all that she understood… In her heartbroken grief, she turns away even from Him!
The angels had only asked why she was weeping. The Lord adds a second question, and its wording matters.
It is not just a work we have to present, but a Person… When the Lord speaks to Mary He does not say, "What are you seeking?" Angels may ask, "Woman, why are you weeping?" But He says, "Whom are you seeking?" He has awakened in her soul affections that only He Himself can satisfy… Peter and John, after seeing the tomb, might go away home, but without Jesus Mary was homeless. Nothing could satisfy her but Himself.
Her mistake shows the gap between what a gardener can do and what a grieving heart needs:
She supposes Him to be the gardener — and what use is a gardener to her? He works on beautiful things that have neither sorrows nor souls. She has both. The things he tends grow and give off their sweetness for a day, then die and are forgotten. She is full of bitterness and cannot forget. She is not looking for flowers, but for "Him," the One who can heal the broken-hearted, who is Himself called the "Man of Sorrows"… The gardener may work among the graves. He may try to cover the bare ugliness of death with the beauty of nature. But a grave strewn with flowers is still a grave. The flowers fade, while the sorrow lives on… She does not want a gardener to decorate a grave; she wants her Lord to heal and satisfy her soul. And Mary's want is yours.
She says "him" three times without once saying who "him" is — and she, a woman alone, offers to carry away a body.
Many have noticed how completely Mary was taken up with her object. It never crossed her mind that anyone might not know whom she was seeking. Blessed absorption! There was no one else in all the world for her heart, so there was no need to say who He was. Notice too that there are no impossibilities to love. She was a weak woman, and yet she says, "and I will take him away"! I wish we all knew more of this unconquerable affection. It binds the soul to Jesus with ties that cannot be broken. It makes the soul willing, and even glad, to carry any burden He gives.
His first question touches her tears. One writer weighs both what her sorrow was and what His question was for:
The sorrow of love for Jesus, which grieves over His absence, is very different from the sorrow of the world that produces death. It soon passes into life and peace through the grace of Jesus… Grace would now step in… How often the same may happen to our dull hearts! But He never acts beneath His name, and He speaks so that we may know Him. "Jesus said to her, 'Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?'" This last was a leading question. Until a person knows Him, there is still darkness, even though there may be love… The Lord valued her staying at the tomb in sorrow, even though it was only an empty tomb.
- Sorrow — Her tears and the dim light hid Him; she knew Him as He had been on earth, not as risen.
- Question — Angels ask why she weeps; He asks whom she seeks, because only a Person can fill the emptiness in her.
- Gardener — A gardener can decorate a grave; only the Man of Sorrows can heal the heart that owns one.
- Love — She never names Him, sure that everyone knows who "him" is. She offers to carry the body herself: love sees no impossibilities.
- Voice — Love alone still leaves her in the dark; He asks, then He speaks, so that she may know Him.
Jesus says to her, Mary. She, turning round, says to him in Hebrew, Rabboni, which means Teacher.
A woman stands crying by an empty grave, mistaking her risen Lord for the gardener — until He says one word. That word is her own name, and her answer is a single Aramaic title, "Rabboni."
Up to this moment nothing had reached her — not the empty tomb, not two angels, not even the sight of Jesus Himself. Then He spoke.
One word dispels all the difficulty and doubt, the expression, not of our love to Him, but of His love to us. "Jesus says to her, Mary." The work was done, the great discovery made. He had died, He was now risen, and He appeared first to Mary of Magdala. She who had sown in tears reaps now in joy.
She turns again, though she was already facing Him. One writer stops at that small detail and links it to what Jesus had said about His sheep.
"Mary" falls upon her ear. That is all... He had said before, "He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out... and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice" (John 10:3-4). Do you and I know what it means when the Lord calls us by name like this?... Why does the Holy Spirit tell us she turned herself? We saw just now that when she saw angels she turned her back on them. Now she sees a man, and she turns her back on him. It was Christ she was looking for, but at that moment she had not found Him. But one word reveals everything to her: "Mary." She had heard that blessed voice before. It was the day He set her free from the sevenfold power of the devil.
The other disciples had seen the empty tomb and gone home. Mary stayed. Her past explains why.
She had been completely under the power of the devil, for the Lord had cast seven demons out of her. She had been greatly blessed, but her heart had been won to the Blesser. So at the empty tomb, when the disciples went away to "their own home," Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. Blessings were not enough for Mary; she could find no rest in this world without Christ. With Him she was happy, without Him she was desolate.
John translates the word for his readers. It carries more weight than the plain title "Rabbi."
But one word from His lips changes everything, "Mary." He calls His own sheep by name, and she knows His voice. Turning again, she says, "Rabboni." That is more than "Rabbi" (teacher). It means "my great Teacher." The wonder of the miracle of His resurrection does not even occur to her. All she thinks of is the One she loves, now there before her eyes.
Her word was not wrong. But it belonged to the way she had known Him before His death.
Mary had rightly understood Him in the place He held among Israel. But that is not His place now. He would take a new place, and there He would join His own to Himself. This reminds us of what the Lord said in John 12: "Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone." Mary knew Him as "Rabboni" (her Lord or Teacher). He was indeed that. But now He would bring her into a place where she knew Him in a deeper and closer way, joined to Himself in entirely new conditions.
The story does not stop with Mary. One writer turns it on the reader.
There was only one Mary Magdalene on earth, and her heart alone knew its own bitterness. There is only one YOU, and your sorrow is your own. Jesus revealed Himself to that one Mary. He knew every pang of her heart, and He did it in a way that let her answer and call Him MY MASTER... I have not heard about Him only, I HAVE HEARD HIM. I know Him. He has come into the secret chambers of my soul, where a great sorrow had taken hold. I have welcomed Him. I am His, He has called me by name, and He is mine — RABBONI.
- Sought — Mary stayed at the tomb when the others went home. Blessings were not enough for her; her heart wanted the Blesser Himself.
- Called — Sight of Him did nothing; one spoken name did everything. The recognition rested on His love for her, not hers for Him.
- Recognised — The Shepherd calls His own sheep by name, and they know His voice. She had heard that voice on the day He set her free.
- Confessed — "Rabboni" says more than "Rabbi": not just teacher, but my great Teacher. Her whole thought was fixed on the Person in front of her.
- Carried further — The title was true, but it belonged to the place He had held among Israel. From here He draws her into a new and closer bond with Himself.
Jesus says to her, Touch me not, for I have not yet ascended to my Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I ascend to my Father and your Father, and [to] my God and your God.
The risen Jesus meets Mary Magdalene at the tomb and, before she can hold on to Him, sends her away with a message. Why does He refuse her touch, and what is so new in that message?
The refusal is not a rebuke of her love. One writer looks closely at the verb behind the older rendering "Touch me not":
Our Lord's words to Mary Magdalene are not quite given by "Touch me not." A better rendering is, "Do not handle." He tells her not to give in to her impulse to take hold of His person… here the action is continuous. That gives the force: "Do not persist in clinging to me."
She wanted her Master present again on earth, as before. One writer traces her instinct to the hope of the faithful few in Israel:
She stands for the feelings of the godly Jewish remnant. She would cling to her risen Lord, thinking that now He has come back — no longer in humiliation but in resurrection glory — He will take His place on earth as the rightful Heir of all things. But Mary and the remnant must learn this: before the glories of the kingdom, God has still greater glories for Christ, and far deeper blessings for His people.
In Matthew's account the women take hold of His feet, and He does not stop them. The difference is two kinds of faith, not a contradiction:
In the coming day of the Lord's presence, faith will have an Object it can see and touch, so to speak. It will be like the faith of the Jewish women who, when they saw the Lord after His resurrection, "took hold of his feet and worshiped him" (Matt. 28:9). But on that same day the risen Christ trained Mary Magdalene in a higher kind of faith — a faith that needs nothing visible or touchable in its object, and reaches right through to the Unseen Presence on high… She was surely to learn from His words that earthly relationships with the Messiah were now on hold, and heavenly ones were about to begin between the ascended Saviour and His own.
The word He sends them is as striking as the word He withholds from Mary.
The Lord can speak of His disciples as "My brothers". He had never called His disciples His brothers before. But through His death He has sanctified them, and He is not ashamed to call them brothers (Hebrews 2:11). Just as the bride in the Song of Songs can say, "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine", so Mary, in the love of her heart, says, "My Lord", and Jesus, in the greatness of His love, can answer by calling His own "My brothers".
The message names God twice, and each name says something different about Christ:
Now Christ stands in two relationships with God, His Father. He is a perfect man before His God; He is a Son with His Father. We are to share both these relationships. He announced this to His disciples before He went back to heaven. His own words open up its full extent: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."
The two pronouns are deliberate. One writer notes both the order of the names and the line that is never crossed:
And is there not real beauty in this, that "Father" comes before "God"?… The tenderer relation comes first. Still, as more than one writer has noted, it is not "our Father," nor "our God." That could not be. Whatever the grace, nothing ever closes the distance between the Creator and the creature — not in that sense… But His Sonship is unique, even though these words also stress that His God and Father is also ours.
That distinction shapes how we speak of Him:
He is not ashamed to call us brothers. But when we remember who He is, and what He has done for our eternal blessing, it would be quite out of place to call Him "our elder Brother," as so many Christians do. Let us keep to the wording of Scripture. Let us show the deep reverence that fits us, while we rejoice in the wonderful relationship He calls us to enjoy.
The place He was going to was not for Himself alone.
He did not leave us until He had finished a work in the world. On the ground of that work He has brought us into the very same relationship with God that He Himself, as man, stands in… From now on His Father is our Father, His God our God, His home our home.
- Released, not refused. The words mean "do not persist in clinging." Jesus does not push Mary away; He sends her, because His people will now know Him in a heavenly way, not the old earthly one.
- Higher faith. The women in Matthew held His feet, and He let them. Christ trains Mary in a faith that reaches an unseen Presence on high.
- New name. Only now, His work done, does He call the disciples "My brothers" — a name He never used before His death.
- Shared place. As Son He has a Father; as man He has a God. He shares both relationships with those He calls brothers.
- Kept distinct. He says "My" and "your," never "our." His Sonship stays unique. Yet His Father is our Father, His God our God, His home our home.
Mary of Magdala comes bringing word to the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and [that] he had said these things to her.
The risen Christ had just told Mary Magdalene not to cling to Him, but to go with a message. This verse is her obedience. It brings the first announcement of the resurrection to His followers, and it comes through a woman with no rank among them.
She treated the Lord's words as an order to obey. One writer notes what she had to learn first, and how fast she then went.
Before Mary could carry such a message she had to know its truth herself. She had to learn that from now on she could never again know Christ as she had known Him on earth, in flesh and blood... Whether she grasped much or little, having received her commission she hurried to carry it out. It was a privilege indeed to be the bearer of such news, and she showed how she valued it by her exact and speedy obedience to the command she had received.
"These things" were not just news of an empty tomb. They were His words in verse 17, where He calls His followers His brothers.
"Go to My brethren." He is not ashamed to call the disciples His brethren... Now He has finished His atoning work, and He openly owns this blessed fruit of it. Faith receives more than forgiveness of sins through His shed blood. Believers also stand in the closest relationship to Himself, the risen Man and Son of God. They are His brethren... And they learn that they are now related to Christ in His new place. So they enter into His own blessed and everlasting relationship with His Father and God. "And say to them, I am ascending to My Father and your Father, to My God and your God."
Mary was not one of the twelve closest followers, and she had understood little at the tomb. One writer sees that as no barrier.
Despite her ignorance — despite the unbelief inside that ignorance — Mary was the one who was to be the first witness of His resurrection. She was the first evangelist of the new order of things His resurrection sets up... Now again a woman's heart, more devoted than His foremost disciples, is to carry the message that has gladdened it to these men, in the energy of its new-born gladness. She becomes, as it were, the apostle to the apostles! How it tells us of the way the heart becomes the leader of the mind into the truth of God.
Another writer sees the same pattern across God's work.
The Lord delights to take up the weak and the lowly to carry out the highest service. How often a great work of God has begun with what is small and weak in the eyes of man. Christianity comes in with a Baby in the manger. The Kingdom begins with a grain of mustard seed, and the new, heavenly relationships are made known through a weeping woman.
Her report had two parts: what she had seen for herself, and what He had said. One writer names what fitted her to carry it.
When Mary came to the disciples she said, "she had seen the Lord, and that He had spoken these things to her" (John 20:18). That is the kind of ministry to which you refer.
John does not tell us how the disciples took it. Another Gospel does.
Charged with that message, Mary, her sorrow turned into joy, went to deliver it. First saying, "I have seen the Lord" (John 20:18), as we should rightly read, she passed on what the Lord had said to her by the tomb. What reception she met with, John does not tell us. We learn elsewhere (Mark 16:11) that they did not believe that she had seen the Lord alive from the dead.
That writer reads her message as direct speech — "I have seen the Lord" — which is how the ESV gives it too.
- Love first. Her qualification was not rank or understanding. It was her love for Christ, and that love made her the first witness of the resurrection.
- Gift given. She carried more than news of an empty tomb. She carried the words of verse 17: the Lord now calls His disciples His brothers, and they share His own relationship with His Father and His God.
- Weakness chosen. God's great works start small. A Baby in the manger, a mustard seed, and heavenly relationships told out through a weeping woman.
- Sight told. She told what she had seen and what He had said to her. Nothing borrowed, nothing invented.
- Obedience regardless. She went at once, and they did not believe her. Carrying such news was still a privilege.