Abiding Presence

Many women were [at the Crucifixion], watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of Zebedee's sons....
[Joseph of Arimathea] rolled a big stone in front of the entrance and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there across from the tomb....
- Matthew 27:55-56, 60

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. - Luke 24:1

Is it any surprise that these women, most of whom we know only through their relation to certain men, were the first witnesses to Jesus' Resurrection? There is a sense from the gospels that, especially in Jesus' last days and hours, they were always there. Wherever Jesus was, wherever faithful obedience called them to be, they were there.

The gospel writers did not often mention or acknowledge the women's presence and their faithful support of Jesus and his ragtag, often confused male disciples - including their own sons. But certainly these nearly anonymous women were there. One can imagine their humble, behind-the-scenes presence everywhere from Jesus' feeding of the 5,000, to his healing of the paralytic man who was lowered through the roof, to his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Maybe the women were even there in the upper room, serving that last supper to Jesus and the 12 disciples.

We rarely hear about these ever-present women until the end of Jesus' life, until things have gotten so bad that the male disciples have scattered, leaving Jesus alone and betrayed in his darkest hours. The women, however, are still there. They are with Jesus at the Crucifixion, the burial, the sealing of the tomb. And we hear about them now because they are the only ones there.

Unlike Jesus' other followers, these women had been faithful to the very, indeed the bitter, end. And they persevered even beyond the apparent "end." While the remaining 11 disciples were huddled behind locked doors, paralyzed by grief and fear, these women were up before dawn to minister to their Lord, even in his death.

What happens next is shocking not only because of what takes place, but also because of how it happens. Christ's Resurrection is revealed and entrusted not to the religious or political authorities of the day, not to Peter and the other disciples who had been closest to Jesus and who would establish his church, but to a handful of obscure women, whose vital ministry had hardly been acknowledged and whose Resurrection story would, initially, not be believed.

Indeed, one gets the sense from Luke's account that the disciples disbelieved the women's story, calling it "an idle tale" and "pure nonsense," in part precisely because the messengers were women. It is possible, given the earthshaking nature of their news, that the women were somewhat excited, perhaps tripping over one another's words in an attempt to tell their fantastic story. And besides, what could women, the oppressed of Jewish society, know about such things? Yet it was to these modest, unassuming women that angels spoke and the risen Lord revealed himself. They became the bearers of the greatest and single most important message in history: "Christ is risen!"

For these women were the only people who had been with Jesus in his death and had remained faithful immediately after his death. They were able to witness and believe the Resurrection because their suffering and willing submission to the risk of death had left them open and vulnerable. They were able to be faithful without surrendering to death's hopelessness and despair because they believed in life. And because of their openness to death and their obedience to life, they experienced resurrection.

SUCH EASTER PEOPLE are all around us. Their resurrection faith is the spirit that says, "We've come this far by faith, and we're not turning back," even when the world seems to be crumbling all around them, even when the reasons for despair seem great enough to squelch all hope. Easter people refuse to give in to the powers of darkness and death; they persevere against seemingly overwhelming odds.

Easter people are the women I met in Pantasma, Nicaragua, whose fathers and husbands had been killed and kidnapped by the contras and who vowed to rebuild their bombed houses, to replant their burned crops, and to hold on to their dreams of dignity and self-sufficiency. They are the old women in a run-down Managua barrio who said the death of their sons inspired them to live in obedience to the God of the poor.

I have seen resurrection faith in homeless women walking the streets and in the faithful women who serve them soup. I have found the Resurrection in battered women who, at the risk of losing everything they have, are trying to start over and make a good life for themselves and their children.

The Resurrection lives in Central American women who keep hope, despite having to flee their war-torn homes and endure rape, hunger, and violence on their journey northward. And it lives in the countless American women who offer food, shelter, and love to Central American refugees. I have seen resurrection faith in women who carried their babies onto a military base, where they were met by police officers and handcuffs. Easter people are those women I see at every demonstration, the women who always show up to witness to peace and justice because they know that, someday, peace and justice will come.

And among those many women who seem always to be there, I remember the elderly women who were there whenever the doors opened at the small country churches in Texas where my dad and my grandpa preached and where my mom and my grandma - like the women in the gospels - stayed behind the scenes and kept things running.

Their stories tell us that when we stick it out, when we remain faithful and obedient from beginning to end, when we are willing to die to ourselves and to all our dreams of glory and vindication, when we press on through the darkness simply because it is the right thing to do, when we join in solidarity with the modern-day crucified ones, we too will find resurrection, new life springing forth from death.

Vicki Kemper was on the editorial staff of Sojourners when this article appeared.