I wonder how far along the road to the tomb Mary and Mary Magdalene were before one of them thought about the stone that had been placed there. It was early, they probably both rose, still tired, from a restless night. They probably hadn’t had coffee, figuring they’d tend to the body and then come back, sit and share a cup as the week began.
“Who’ll roll away the stone,” one asks the other. “Oh my gosh,” the other Mary replies, “I hadn’t even thought of that. Do you think we can?” “No,” Mary M replies, “don’t you remember. They had to dig a little trench so it would roll down.”
They keep going, though. It’s too early to go and wake anyone. Maybe there’ll be a guard there who can move the stone. Not all the Roman soldiers are bad. Half of them are just boys, far away from home. If not, well, maybe someone will come along later in the morning to help.
In the low light of dawn, neither of them believes what they’re seeing. It’s still half-dark, and the tomb deep in the spring shadows. It can’t be what it looks like, can it? Is it?
In every account except for Matthew’s there’s no explanation for how or who moved the stone from the tomb’s entrance. Mark, Luke, and John tell us that, upon arrival, the stone had already been rolled away. There’s no mention of earthquakes or angels or any sign of guards. The how is a mystery, something amazing that is a small wonder in the midst of the greater wonder of the Resurrection.
Maybe, newly risen, Jesus spoke into the darkness and the stone, hearing the voice that had created it, rolled back. Or, perhaps, the very rocks and stones, while humanity lie silent and hopeless, recognized what was happening, and this stone moved on its own. It could be that Matthew’s right and an angel opened the tomb.
But one thing in clear, no human hand did it.
Good Friday is filled with humanity’s actions: Jesus is seized, struck, and stripped by human hands. It’s the same that fashion a thorny crown, place the cross on his back, hold and drive the nails. We hold all that power within our hands. We are able to bring death, even to God.
Resurrection, though, is beyond us. We can devise trenches and mechanisms to move the stone in place, but to move the stone and free those in darkness is beyond us. We are like the women on that morning asking, who will move this stone?
But something amazing happens afterward. In the chaos of the morning, the One, the only one who could move the stone appears to all of them. And he breathes on them. The same breath that filled the lungs of the first human is exhaled upon them.
And Jesus says with a wild glint in his eyes, come on, let’s start moving stones.