“But Mary was standing without at the tomb weeping.”  In these words John turns our thoughts from himself to her who had summoned him and Peter, and then followed them.  After they had left the sepulchre she continued standing, bitterly weeping.  She could not refrain from seeking that which she had told the disciples was not there.  Her gaze was “at the very cause of her grief.”  “She stooped and looked into the tomb” as John had done.

From the infancy of Jesus to His death there was no ministry of angels to men, though they ministered to Him.  “The Master being by, it behooved the servant to keep silence.”  But the angelic voices that proclaimed His birth, were heard again after His resurrection.  According to John’s minute description Mary “beholdeth two angels in white sitting, one at the head, and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.”  The angelic silence was broken by them both, with the question, “Woman, why weepest thou”—­so bitterly and continuously?  They might have added, “It is all without a cause.”  Her answer was quick and brief; and without any fear of the shining ones who lightened the gloomy tomb, and were ready to lighten her darkened spirit.  Her reply was the echo of her own words to Peter and John, slightly changed to show her personal loss;—­“Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.”—­Am I not wretched indeed?  Is there not a cause?  Why should I check my tears?

To answer was needless.  Were not the angels in the blessed secret which was immediately revealed?  Were they not glancing from within the tomb, over her bowed head, to the gently moving form without?  Did Mary become suddenly conscious of some presence as “she turns herself back, and beholdeth Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus”?  His question seemed an echo of the angelic voices, “Woman, why weepest thou?” with the added question, “Whom seekest thou?” This was the first utterance of the risen Lord.  In the garden, at this early hour, who—­so thought Mary—­can this be but the gardener?  As such she addressed Him, “Sir, If thou hast borne Him hence, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will take Him away.”  We can hardly restrain a smile when we see how the strength of her love made her unmindful of the weakness that would attempt to “take Him away.”

“Jesus saith unto her, Mary.”  That name, that familiar voice, that loving tone, sent a thrill through her heart which the name “woman” had failed to excite.  More completely “she turned herself, and saith unto Him, Rabboni,” with all the devotion of her impassioned soul.

Let us recall John’s account of Mary’s report of her first visit to the tomb, full of sadness—­“They have taken away the Lord,” and then in contrast place by its side his record of her second report, full of gladness—­“Mary Magdalene, cometh and telleth the disciples, I have seen the Lord.”  The one was a mistaken inference; the other a blessed reality.  Between these two utterances on the same day what revelations to them both.  But the end was not yet.