Sign up for “Your sorrow shall be turned into joy. “ John 16:20
STUPENDOUS miracle and our basis of Christian hope! Come to the empty grave of Christ and sing for joy! Angels hasten to meet us there with their message sublime. Sorrow may be for a night; but joy comes in the morning. Our cups brimming with gladness, we exclaim with the Psalmist, “Blessed be the Lord God, the God of Israel, who only does wondrous things. And blessed be His glorious Name for ever: let the whole earth be filled with His glory. Amen.”
We direct our thoughts to the great central fact of our faith…to linger over some of the touching human aspects related to it. We would see the wondrous Resurrection story in the light of its immediate effect on the disciples and have our hearts experience their unspeakable joy when the awe-inspiring truth was made known. To aid us in visualizing some of these dramatic incidents we will consider some great paintings through which two masters of art have enlarged the sacred record in portraits of deep feeling and understanding.
SCENE ONE: “Calvary and Resurrection Day, earth’s blackest day, and whitest day, were just three days apart.” Yet how long must have been the day between and how filled with unutterable sadness! The Scriptures are silent regarding it, but it was a real day, a terrible day for that small group of disciples scattered “as sheep without a shepherd.” They awakened to a realization that the nightmarish scenes of a few hours ago were real after all, and their sense of loss was overwhelming. We are indebted to the genius of the great Swiss painter, Eugene Burnand, for the painting “Holy Saturday.” There is no finer portrayal of the stark tragedy that gripped the eleven most closely associated with Jesus. Burnand portrays them dazed with blinding sorrow, confused of mind and heart, once again gathered in the upper room where on Thursday night the Master had washed their feet, partaken with them of their farewell meal, and talked to them with a tender, brooding sympathy. Gathered again, they would seek in this hallowed place undisturbed meditation and prayer. It is the 15th of Nisan, a great feast day of Israel.
Outside, the streets throng with celebrants, trooping the streets singing the old familiar songs of rejoicing. Within, the echoes of this merriment penetrate sword-like, the gloom-filled hearts of the disciples. Some are seated at the table; others stand forlornly in the background. There is no ray of hope on any face. Peter, at one end of the table, his agonizing brain resting heavily on his hands, no longer able to think or talk, weeps, and suffers in silence his double grief. John, next to him, trying to comfort his impulsive friend, appears to feel the futility of words. James sits at the other end, the deep-set eyes peering into space as if trying to recall something of the sayings of his dead Master that would bring order out of his mental chaos. Andrew stands with downcast eyes and sorrowing face behind Peter, his conscience-stricken brother. The rest are grouped about the three at the table, some watching with sympathetic faces the suffering Peter, others lost in thoughts too deep for words, or hushed in silent prayer. Only those who have loved much and lost can really know what that “Holy Saturday” meant to the bewildered disciples. The painting might well be called “The Death of Hope.”
Though as yet they “knew not the Scripture that He must rise again from the dead,” we search their faces to see if, like bells in the distance, a faint melody of coming joy was not being rung in their benumbed minds by those strange words of only yesterday, “A little while and you shall not see me: again, a little while and you shall see Me; verily, verily I say to you, that you shall weep and lament, but the world shall rejoice; you shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman when she is in travail has sorrow, because her hour is come, but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembers no more the pain, for joy that a man is born into the world. And you now have sorrow, but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man takes from you.”
SCENE TWO: It is the early part of the following day, the first day of the week. Again, the disciples awaken to a despairing consciousness of their loss and inconsolable grief. Poor crushed spirits! How little did they know that the darkness was past, that a glorious light was about to break forth in their hearts never to be extinguished! The sun had scarce risen when Mary of Magdala burst into their presence with the strange and terrible news that the grave was empty. Amazed and fearful at this new development, Peter and John are instantly on the way to the Garden, their eager haste hurrying them to the utmost speed. This is the moment Burnand has chosen to transfer to canvas his magnificent portrayal of “Peter and John Running to the Tomb.” The artist has marvelously caught the spirit of this incident.
The two disciples are shown speedily running, the brilliant dawn of the resurrection morn left behind. John’s hair ripples backward as his body bends forward against the wind. The folds of his white robe stream behind him. That Peter is the older and losing out in the race is evident. His longer locks flare in the wind, his cloak tosses behind him, and his mouth opens to make labored breathing easier, while his hand presses back a heart near bursting from mingled emotion. John’s hands are clasped on his bosom in an attitude of prayer. He seems not to be conscious of the movement of his limbs; thoughts are projecting ahead; his eyes seem fixed upon the distant tomb. Anticipation is written on their faces. What must be their inward thoughts? Are they feeling an awakening within? The eagerness of a strange expectancy is told in every line of face and body as they race on.
The sacred record tells us: “They ran both together; and the other disciple outran Peter and came first to the tomb. And stooping down, he saw the linen clothes lying: yet went not in. Then comes Simon Peter following him, and went into the tomb, and sees the linen clothes, and the napkin, that was about His head, not lying with the linen clothes but wrapped together in a place by itself. Then the other disciple went in, which came first to the tomb, and he saw and believed.” John believed. Nothing is here said concerning Peter’s convictions. But shall we question the result of that meeting of the Lord and His brokenhearted disciple when later, as Paul records, “He was seen of Cephas.” Can words describe the ecstasy of that reunion?
SCENE THREE: We pass on to the wonderful experience of Mary Magdalene whose glory it is that she was last at His cross, and earliest at His grave.” We find her now returned to the tomb, her spirit heavy with longing anxiety to find Him. She is alone, as the two disciples and the women had returned to the city. She peers into the empty space where Jesus had lain and it now is no longer empty, but instead of the Redeemer, she sees two shining ones, one where the head and the other where the feet had rested The strangeness of their presence seems lost to her as with eyes half blinded from weeping, she enters and looks about her, when —a Form suddenly appears!
This is the wonderfully dramatic setting of Edward Burne-Jorie’s painting, ‘The Morning of the Resurrection.” We see the two angels, great wings folded against the background, their faces turned in silent awe to One they recognize as far above all principalities and powers. A fold of their white robes raised to their lips as if to acknowledge their own unworthiness. The one, with raised arm, gestures to direct Mary’s attention. She, with head slightly turned, looks in startled timidity upon the Visitor’s face. Is this the keeper of the Garden come to rebuke her intrusion? With cloak caught up, she is prepared to flee. Yet she cannot take her eyes from Him who looks at her with an All-seeing gaze. Her heart pounds with emotion that surges over her spirit. Only a moment intervenes until heart full of deepest sorrow is raised to rapturous joy, and that through the utterance of but one word - Mary! One word—which will send her to astound the disciples with the amazing truth. “I HAVE SEEN THE LORD!”
SCENE FOUR: Has not yet been painted. Though the Great Artist has been long preparing, it will not be painted on canvas but on material, which shall survive eternity. And when that glorious work is finished, strong men shall weep with joy as they contemplate it, and heaven shall resound with the voice of angelic singing. For a stupendous scene shall unfold. Its setting this earth; its subject, all mankind; its theme, the everlasting love of God and our Lord Jesus Christ. For our three pictures are but miniatures of far greater scenes. The grief and sadness of the Eleven in the upper room is multiplied a million-fold in the hopeless grief of humanity. John and Peter running to the tomb may well show forth the coming experience of the nations when the “word shall go forth from Jerusalem.” And Mary at the tomb, the amazed awakening in the heart of all people that One who is above all others well deserves the name of “Friend.” For us all He died, and for us all He rose again. Firm and fast as the grave now seems to hold the buried generations of our race, it is doomed, as a fruit of Christ’s resurrection, to relax its grasp and yield them up again. Empty as was Joseph’s tomb when the angel spoke to the women, so empty shall be every grave of earth when Another shall sound His trumpet, ringing through the regions of the dead, stirring all to life again. Blessed was that morning which dawned upon the empty tomb at Calvary, but more blessed to us shall that other Morning be, which shall dawn upon the empty graves of earth.
Oh, Earth, a “Bethlehem” among the princely cities of the heavens …to you His Son will again visit, and in His radiant glory will you rejoice, for He has a great work to complete! Hear the word of the Lord! — “BECAUSE I LIVE. YOU SHALL LIVE ALSO”
W.J. Siekman ©CDMI
