Continued from yesterday.

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On Sunday morning, as early as she could she went out to the graveside. Mary M and some of the other women were going to do what women in some cultures still do: clean the body, pack spices around it, wrap it up carefully, wrap it up right.

When Mary got there, the grave was open. The body was gone. And Mary was upset, as she should be. It’s like going to the funeral home and finding that they don’t have any record. It’s like finding out from family members that the one you think is your fiancé is dead, and then showing up to see the body, and finding out that you can’t.

I’m not saying she was looking for closure. I struggle with the idea of closure. We never shut of the story of the ones we love. But there is something about completing a task of devotion, of [blessing a situation after the worst possible destruction] that is important. It is fitting. It is a response to the loss.

And that desire for a response what Mary felt because that’s what Mary and her friends wanted to do.

But when Mary got to the tomb, the stone was gone and the body was gone.

Mary ran to get Peter and John. The leader of the disciples and the new next-of-kin for Mary, the mother of Jesus. It was the right thing to do.

But it didn’t solve the pain, especially when they arrived and confirmed her story and were just as confused and went back home. That’s what John tells us when he tells the story. We went back home.

Mary didn’t. Because Mary was still looking for answers, Mary was dealing with the loss of her Jesus and now the loss of the BODY of her Jesus.

Mary looked in again.

And now she saw angels, sitting in the empty cave. “Why are you crying?” they ask.