John 20.1-18
The John Rylands Library in Manchester has on display a tiny fragment of papyrus, smaller than a credit card, entitled ‘Rylands Library Papyrus P52’. Not an especially enthralling name, but when I first saw it I was filled with an almost giddy excitement.
Why? Well the ‘Rylands Library Papyrus P52’ has an alternative name: the ‘St John’s Fragment’. Most scholars agree that it is the earliest existing fragment of a New Testament text, and the most widely accepted theories suggest it probably dates from some time in the second century AD. Why did I find that so exciting?
Well, partly just because I love old stuff, but mostly because the apostle John lived to be very old himself, probably dying in his nineties around the year 100AD. And so – while no one knows anything much about the scribe who wrote ‘Papyrus P52’– I imagined the possibility that that scribe might have lived at the same time as, maybe even had mutual acquaintances with, or perhaps, just perhaps, may have met the aged apostle John. Was I looking at a page written upon by someone who knew a man, who actually knew Jesus? And not just knew Jesus, but who, as today’s reading tells us, was one of the first to see and believe in the universe-shifting, once-in-history event that is the resurrection of Jesus Christ? We often describe the gospels as being eyewitness accounts of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. But in this handwriting, I felt a closer connection to the eyewitness of John. In this tiny piece of papyrus, I found the truth of the gospel and the resurrection suddenly felt tangibly closer for me – bringing deeper awe and wonder.
It is so easy to forget that nobody, not even his closest disciples, saw the resurrection coming. At the start of our passage no one knew Jesus was going to rise from the dead – what we’re reading of are the very first people to believe and to see the resurrection.
But for us, this is probably an overly-familiar passage. In fact, I wonder if the story of the empty tomb is one of the most well-known stories in all of history.
But let’s try to see it afresh. In looking at it to prepare this devotional I was struck by how small that story starts.
John’s honesty is humbling. He doesn’t tell you about how he knew it was coming: instead acknowledging that they didn’t understand. He says that he and Peter weren’t there first, that Mary was; that he was afraid to go into the tomb.
When he does go in, he sees the grave clothes laid out as though Jesus has shed them like a cocoon. No one has come and taken the body with the grave clothes, nor have they unwrapped Jesus and discarded the wrappings. Jesus has stepped out of the grave clothes for which he – as the now living Lord – has no need. John sees this and he believes.
Mary, still overcome with grief, weeps that Jesus’ dead body has been taken. But moments later, when she finds herself face-to-face with the resurrected Christ, he is full of beautiful tenderness for her and calls her by name. He shows he knows her, she finds that she recognises him, and she too believes.
And then she is given the joy and responsibility of being the first person to announce that she has seen the risen Lord.
This story, so widely known in history and across the globe, starts that small. Two men who half understand, one woman who has seen the resurrected Christ. The odds of her being believed, of that story making any impact upon the world: I wouldn’t like to guess how slim they are. But, Mary does what she’s been asked to do, she goes, and she tells the disciples she has seen Jesus.
Such a small beginning. But odds don’t really mean anything when you’re dealing with the Son of God who has defeated death, so with the resurrecting power of God behind it, my, does that story grow.
Josephine Butler, a nineteenth century Christian social reformer from the north east (after whom one of the Durham University colleges, amongst other things, is named), once said “One woman and God is a majority” – perhaps this has never been truer than at the beginning of the spread of the news of Jesus’ resurrection.
On that first Easter morning no one believed that Jesus would rise from the dead, but that truth that he did, has passed, from person to person, from heart to heart like the flames of thousands upon thousands of candles all being lit from one small spark. A flame that has spread almost unimaginably far across time and space.
Perhaps you have a single moment when you first saw the truth of the resurrection. Perhaps it was a longer, slower realisation, with Thomas-like initial doubts or uncertainties. But, however we have come to say we believe, however that ever-spreading flame was ignited in our hearts, my prayer is that in looking at it again, we’ll feel it tangibly close; that we’ll see more of the wonder of knowing the risen Lord and hearing him call us too.
Maybe a moment of feeling new awe and wonder will come by considering carefully the viewpoint of each person in the story; maybe it’ll come by studying the robust historical evidences and logical arguments for the truth of the resurrection.
Or maybe we’ll find them in something as unremarkable as taking a trip to a library. In seeing a tiny piece of papyrus and finding ourselves strangely connected to an unknown scribe, to John, and to Mary; knowing that our faith in the resurrection connects us to them, as we also say ‘I believe’.
Heavenly Father,
We thank you for the resurrection of Jesus, our Lord and Saviour. We praise you for your power which has defeated death, and so gives life to us. Forgive us when we are dismissive of it through familiarity, and by your spirit, please fan into flame the fire of faith within us, that we may confidently say, with our hearts and lives, that we believe in our risen and glorified Lord.
Amen.