Chapter 23

Hard on the heels of the shocking news that Jesus had been crucified bounded the incredible story that he was alive again.

The provinces couldn’t believe their ears. In areas where he had spoken and healed the sick all work was suspended. Nothing else was talked about; nothing else mattered.

Nor was this excitement contained within the confines of Jewry. The mysterious Galilean had for so long been a popular topic of conversation that his fame had filtered into all the surrounding countries. His sayings and doings had been discussed not only all the way from Damascus to Petra and from the Jordan to the Sea, but up in far-away Cappadocia and down in farther-away Ethiopia.

It was not true, as Proconsul Mencius had surmised, that the extraordinary career of the wonder-working Carpenter was a localized phenomenon observed only by the farmers, vine-dressers, and fishermen of Israel’s hinterland. Mencius was to discover presently that the slaves who tugged at the heavy oars in his cargo-ships had heard of Jesus and his forecast of a Kingdom in which all men of good-will would be free.

The stunning news of Jesus’ death and restoration to life had got off to a swift start. Ordinarily the long caravans that regularly plodded to and fro between the interior and the ports were the common carriers of current doings. They were notorious gossips, in a class with the wandering minstrels in respect to their reliability. And had the astounding story of Jesus’ resurrection been caravan-borne, it may be doubted whether many sensible people would have believed it. But this news had outsped the caravans. At the end of Passover Week all the highways and their tributaries were full of travellers and all the travellers were full of talk.

First on the roads were the Gentile merchants from distant places who had no compunction about beginning a journey on the Sabbath Day. They told of the crucifixion. Next came the Jewish pilgrims who had set off for home at daylight on Sunday. They sadly confirmed the earlier reports of the Gentiles. Then, later in the forenoon, the confounding stories of the resurrection started on their journeys, moving forward at various speeds, hour by hour and day by day, on foot, on horseback, on camelback, in donkey-carts, in litters, in chariots, in ferry-boats and deep-water ships, until everybody for a thousand miles in all directions had heard that the crucified Galilean wonder-worker had come alive!

It was the first time in anyone’s experience that good news was startling; the first time that good news was news at all. Life was uncertain for every man, but death was not. When men died they were permanently dead. Nobody was exempt; not even the Caesars, who claimed to be divine. Now it appeared that a penniless carpenter had overcome death. He had more power than the Emperor. Not everyone believed the story, but everyone talked about it. Even those who shook their heads wished they could believe it; hoped it was true.

There were various versions of the story. Reduced to its simplest form: certain women, devoted followers of the Master, had gone out at dawn on Sunday to the beautiful Garden of Sepulchres to anoint the mangled body with myrrh. They had found the tomb open and empty. Then they had seen him, strolling among the flowers. After a tender moment of ecstatic recognition the women were told to notify ‘my disciples—and Peter.’

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