(Repeated from a post on April 19, 2014)

Jesus is crucified, his body taken away.

The religious rulers are satisfied. They’ve won. They’ve handled this challenge to their authority by hinting to the Romans that they could have an insurrection on their hands if they didn’t take care of this peasant leader. Their plan worked well, with the Romans handling matters in their usual efficient way.

The Romans are satisfied, too, with the possible exception of their man, Pilate, who expressed misgivings. He went along, however, understanding that it was in his interest not to upset the ones on whom his job depends, so no problem.

The disciples, all men, have fled, taking refuge in some out-of-the-way bolt hole.

Only a few women stay with Jesus, and they follow to see where his body is taken. They spend the next day, the day of rest, preparing for his burial. He must be taken care of, even if all they can do is carry out a proper burial. They’re only women, and no one pays them much attention.

So they come to the tomb on Sunday morning. They find it empty. They are the first to know and the first to tell. What no one else did, they did. They came. They showed up.