Peter and John Remember the Resurrection

— John 20:2-10

Mary of Magdala ran, found Simon Peter and the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb and we don’t know where they have put him.”

Peter and the other disciple set off at once for the tomb, the two of them running together. The other disciple ran faster than Peter and was the first to arrive at the tomb. He stooped and looked inside and noticed the linen cloths lying there but did not go in himself. Hard on his heels came Simon Peter and went straight into the tomb. He noticed that the linen cloths were lying there, and that the handkerchief, which had been round Jesus’s head, was not lying with the linen cloths but was rolled up by itself, a little way apart. Then the other disciple, who was the first to arrive at the tomb, came inside as well, saw what had happened and believed. (They did not yet understand the scripture which said that he must rise from the dead.) So the disciples went back again to their homes.

Years Later…

A little girl — one of the children of the Jerusalem fellowship of the Way — is awake in bed and listening to voices in the other room. Finally, she can stand it no longer. She swings her feet to the floor; puts on her cloak; opens her door; tiptoes her way down the hall, around the corner, into the main room. Both her parents are at the table, guests surrounding them; everyone is comfortable with that postprandial look of a couple cups of good new wine.

There are three particular guests the young girl wishes to meet. She is right to their sides before her parents can react. Everyone quiets with the expectation of something slightly funny happening.

“Brother Peter, Brother John,” the little girl says, stoutly, “I am Hannah. You know my parents.”

The two middle-aged men smile; nod.

“I am going to be in trouble for coming out here,” she says. “But I had to ask you a question I’ve been wondering about…”

One of the men says, “Go on, then—ask.”

“What was it like,” she asks, unhesitantly, “when you actually figured out he was gone; alive?”

The two men glance over at each other, uncertainly. It has been years since they’ve been asked this question, while together. They are each suddenly shy in the presence of the other. They have long grown used to speaking of that moment from the vantage-point of their own individual view. To speak of it in concert suddenly daunts.

 Everyone leans near; elbows on tabletop.

 John nods to Peter.

 Peter begins to speak…