30. The Resurrection of Christ. The Appearances of the Risen Christ. The Ascension Into Heaven

Having posted a guard at the tomb and set a seal on the stone, the leaders of the Jewish people went home with a sense of having achieved their aim and, when night came, surrendered themselves to calm and sweet sleep, making up for all the sleepless nights of preceding days. And so night fell, but no one yet knew what a great and joyful day was to dawn after it. The whole world was plunged in deep sleep. Only the disciples and female followers of Christ did not sleep all night; they spent it, as they had the day just past, in inconsolable weeping, and now, as dawn barely began to break, the women were the first to hasten to the garden to the tomb of the crucified Teacher. A deep solemn silence reigned all around, broken only by the measured footsteps of the guard posted at the tomb. Two nights had already passed since the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, and the guard had no need now to think of an attack on the tomb by His followers. Silent is the sealed tomb, its seal intact. Suddenly—the earth shook terribly, as if rousing the carelessly sleeping world; and young men brilliant as lightning, clothed in garments white as snow, descended into the garden from the heavenly heights. One of them approaches the cave, touches the tomb rock: instantly the seal is broken, the heavy stone rolls away, and from the tomb rises the Life-Giver, surrounded by heavenly radiance. The guard stood frozen with fear. Recovering from their first terror, they rushed to Jerusalem to report what had happened. Into what agitation their news would have cast the whole city, had it not still been weighed down by heavy morning sleep. The soldiers knock urgently at the doors of the people’s elders, and the latter, waking and recovering from the unexpectedness of the event, at once hold a consultation and take measures to immediately suppress and quench the news that had been brought. But all the stratagems of falsehood with which they wished again to kill the Life-Giver were now powerless. Even if they had managed to silence all the living witnesses of the miracle of the resurrection, the dead would have come forward as witnesses. Many of the dead, whose bodies had already at the moment of Christ’s death on the cross felt within themselves the surge of new life, rose from their tombs together with the Author of life, entered the city, and appeared to many.

The greatest miracle had taken place, all the circumstances of which testified with irresistible force to its reality. But no miracle could break the hardened unbelief of the Jewish leaders. Receiving the terrible news, they immediately assembled for a consultation as to how best to destroy even the rumor of the miracle and prevent it from spreading among the people. What could they undertake? It was impossible to fight truth with truthful means, and so they resorted to falsehood. As at the secret interrogation on the night of Great Friday, so now too they first seized upon bribery—which had apparently served them well more than once already. They “gave a large sum of money to the soldiers and said: Tell people that His disciples came by night and stole Him away while we slept. And if this comes to the governor’s ears, we will appease him and keep you out of trouble.” The soldiers took the money and did as they were instructed. Gold triumphed over conscience. The soldiers began to spread the false suggestion, and “this saying is commonly reported among the Jews to this day,” the evangelist notes.

It was not difficult for the false suggestion to spread. The news that Christ had truly risen—so great, so gracious and joyful a piece of news that one might even from sheer joy disbelieve it, as indeed happened with some of the disciples—and yet it is impossible to deny its truth without entering into glaring contradiction with all of history, without rising against the most convincing proofs, without abandoning sound human reason, and without stifling within oneself the last vestiges of the feeling for historical truth. If it is certain that the Roman emperor Tiberius ever lived, or that the Jewish people existed—who, after nailing Christ to the cross, were scattered like dust over the face of the whole earth—or that before the preaching of fishermen, tax collectors, and a carpenter the powerful and elegant gods of Greece and Rome were cast down from their altars; then still more certain, and beyond all doubt, is what the best part of humanity now solemnly glorifies every year, every week—namely the miracle of the Resurrection of Christ.

Christ had more than once foretold His resurrection to His disciples, and yet it was a surprise even to them. According to the testimony of the evangelists, the female disciples of Christ, having spent the night in weeping, set out in the morning—when the city had not yet awakened from sleep—to the tomb of their beloved Teacher. They walked in silence. Grief sealed their lips. But when they had already approached the garden, a new sorrowful thought caused them to speak. “Who will roll away the stone from the door of the tomb for us?” they said in perplexity. Evidently in the realm of their unclear conceptions of Him, the Teacher was still dead and lifeless, and all the grief of their love was confined to one thing: how, with such an obstacle, they would anoint Him with myrrh for an eternal rest in the bosom of the earth. But the myrrh-bearing women had not yet managed to discuss their new grief when before their eyes there appeared an unexpected, striking picture: the stone was rolled away and the tomb was open! But this spectacle plunged them into new perplexity and terror. For their wavering faith this appeared not as the joyful event of the resurrection, but as a criminal theft of the body. Trembling, they approached the cave itself—but from it there suddenly burst beams of light, and before them appeared two radiant, joyful young men. The women had barely recovered from the unexpected shock when one of these heralds of joy said to them: “Do not be afraid! You seek Jesus of Nazareth? Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is risen. He is not here! Come, see the place where they laid Him.” The women heard this joyful voice of the heavenly messenger and at the same time could not, from the very excess of joy, comprehend it. They stood transfixed at the tomb. The heavenly messenger brought them out of this state, saying: “Go, tell His disciples!” Hearing this command, they ran from the tomb; “trembling and amazement seized them,” so that when they ran to the gathering of the disciples, they at first could say nothing. But joy nevertheless opened their lips, and they began one after another to tell what they had seen and heard—the appearance of the angels and the words spoken to them. The disciples heard and could scarcely believe their ears. Angels at the tomb of the Teacher? They declare that the Teacher has risen? Oh, if only all this had not occurred under the cover of a day not yet dawned, and if the news came not from the lips of agitated and credulous women! So the disciples thought, and did not believe, and even protested against believing. “And their words seemed to them like idle tales,” the evangelist Luke recounts, “and they did not believe them.”

But not all the disciples reacted to the women’s accounts with indifference and disbelief. Two of them—Peter and John—immediately ran to verify in person what had happened, and ran with such haste that they outpaced each other; and John arrived at the tomb before Peter. The stone was rolled away and the cave was open. Stronger in his legs than in his courage, John only bent down to the tomb but did not enter it, until Peter also arrived. The latter went immediately into the cave and saw only the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth that had been on the Teacher’s head—not lying with the linen cloths but folded separately in another place. After this John also entered, looked, and believed—and both ran to tell the other disciples what they had seen.

Meanwhile Mary Magdalene, who in her faith was distinguished by the impatience of Peter, not trusting what she herself had seen and heard at the first visit to the tomb with the other women, now ran alone once more to see the tomb with her own eyes. The rising sun had already begun to spread golden rays over the summits of the surrounding hills. A beautiful spring day was coming in nature. But Mary’s soul was dark. Having carefully examined the cave and the tomb and finding in it no explanation for her perplexity, she stood at the tomb and wept. “Woman, why are you weeping?” — a voice suddenly rang out. With a start, she bent down to the cave again and saw two young men in white clothing, one sitting at the head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. Not knowing who they were, she explained to them the reason for her weeping: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him,” she said, and burst into tears again. But now she hears approaching footsteps behind her. She quickly turns her tear-filled gaze in that direction and sees before her a man—who else but the gardener? This supposed gardener addressed her with the question: “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” But Mary did not at once understand all the loving force of these words. Absorbed in her mournful thoughts, she saw in this address an idle, if not even offensive, question, and replied to it simply: “Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.” The Teacher can no longer conceal Himself. From the depths of His loving mercy He cried out: “Mary!” — cried out in that familiar, authoritative voice which had drawn thousands of hearts to Him. The astonished disciple quickly fixed her gaze, clouded with tears; and from her breast, despite herself, broke a joyful cry: “My Lord and Teacher!” Then she threw herself at His feet and with tears of joy wished to wash His feet—but to this impulsive outburst of joy the transfigured Teacher said: “Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them: I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.” And the overjoyed Mary, having found her Teacher, ran into the city and announced to the perplexed disciples that Christ was truly risen. And her word rang out like thunder echoing throughout the world, and has since been repeated by millions of believing lips to this day, and will be repeated for all ages.

The testimony of Mary Magdalene was soon confirmed by a new appearance of Christ to other women disciples. Meeting the other women, the risen Christ said to them: “Rejoice!” Seized with fear and excitement, they fell at His feet. “Do not be afraid,” He said to them; “go and tell My brethren to go to Galilee, and there they will see Me.”

The third appearance of Christ was to the Apostle Peter, of which the Apostle Paul testifies, saying that “He appeared to Cephas” before the other apostles. But on the same day there was a fourth appearance, which took place under very significant circumstances. Two disciples were walking to the village of Emmaus, situated not far from Jerusalem. With sadness and anxiety they were discussing the astonishing events of the past two days, when suddenly an unknown wayfarer joined them and asked them the reason for their sorrowful mood and troubled conversation. They stopped and, glancing at the stranger, regarded him with suspicion and unfriendliness; and when one of them—Cleopas—answered him, a note of amazement and suspicion sounded in his answer. “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem and have not known the things which happened there in these days?” “What things?” He asked them. Then they told Him how all their hopes that Jesus was a great prophet who should have delivered His people had crumbled to dust, and how all His great works before God and men had ended two days ago on a shameful cross. They described the feeling of amazement with which on that third day they were hearing the talk of the women about a vision of angels and the reliable testimony of some of their companions that the tomb was empty. “But,” the narrator added with a sigh of disbelief and grief, “Him they did not see.” Then, rebuking them for their “foolishness and slowness of heart,” the Wayfarer showed them how through all the Old Testament, beginning from Moses, there ran one continuous prophecy both of the sufferings and of the glory of Christ. In such an elevated discourse they arrived at Emmaus. The Stranger wished to go further, but they urged Him to stay with them. When they sat down to their simple meal and He, taking bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them, their eyes were suddenly opened, and despite His changed appearance they recognized that it was their Lord who had been with them. But as soon as they recognized Him, He became invisible to them. “Did not our heart burn within us,” they said to one another, “while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?” Immediately rising, they returned to Jerusalem with their wondrous and joyful news. Now no one doubted the truth of these accounts. They themselves were met with joyful assurances that “the Lord is truly risen and has appeared to Simon.”

On that same ever-memorable day of Pascha, Jesus Christ for the fifth time manifested Himself to all His disciples. Ten disciples sat together behind locked doors, for fear of the Jews. While they were relating and discussing their joyful news with one another, Christ Himself stood in the midst of them and said: “Peace to you.” The unusual appearance of His glorified body, the terrible significance of the very fact of resurrection from the dead—confused and frightened them. The Lord was present with them bodily, but in a changed form. They even thought they saw a spirit. “Why are you troubled?” He asked, “and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself; handle Me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see I have. And saying this, He showed them His hands and feet.” While joy, amazement, and disbelief struggled within them, He asked whether they had any food; and to convince them still further, He ate in their presence a piece of broiled fish. Then, saying to them once more: “Peace to you! As the Father has sent Me, I also send you,” He breathed on them and added: “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

Only one disciple had been absent at this—Thomas the Twin. He was a man of responsive but somber character and slow to believe. For him this news seemed too good to be believed. In vain did the other disciples assure him: “We have seen the Lord.” He insisted that he would not believe until he himself put his own finger into the wounds of the nails and his own hand into His side. A week passed and the apostle’s doubts remained unrefuted. On the first day of the following week (Sunday had already become the first day of the week, and it had become sacred to the hearts of the apostles) all eleven disciples again gathered together behind locked doors. Christ appeared to them again and after the customary greeting and blessing called Thomas over and told him to put his finger and feel the nail wounds, to stretch out his hand and put it into His side, and not to be “unbelieving, but believing.” “My Lord and my God!” the doubting apostle then exclaimed with a burst of conviction. “You have believed,” Christ said to him, “because you have seen Me; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

The next appearance of the risen Savior was to seven apostles at the Sea of Galilee—to Simon, Thomas, Nathanael, the sons of Zebedee, and two others—probably Philip and Andrew, unnamed in the narrative (John 21:1–24). There was a pause in Christ’s appearances, and before returning to Jerusalem for the feast of Pentecost to receive the promised outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles, Simon said that he would for a time take up his former trade—fishing. They no longer had a common purse, and since other sources of livelihood had dried up, the former trade remained the only means of honest subsistence. The others resolved to join him, and they all set out in the evening—for night is the best time for fishing. All night they labored in vain. At early dawn, in the dim twilight, a man appeared on the shore whom they did not recognize. He asked them whether they had caught anything. “No,” came the dejected answer. “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” They cast it, and now could hardly haul in the net for the multitude of fish. This incident with irresistible force revived in them the memory of the past. “It is the Lord,” John whispered to Peter; and at once this ardent-hearted apostle, throwing on his fisherman’s coat, jumped into the sea, swam the distance separating him from Jesus Christ, and soaking wet fell at His feet. The others followed, dragging the tremendously taut but unbroken net with a hundred and fifty-three large fish. On the shore a fire was kindled, bread was brought out, and fish was baking on the blazing coals—a scene that even now can often be seen on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. The Christ standing beside them told them to bring more fish—from what they had now caught. Simon immediately went and helped drag the net ashore. And He in whom they all recognized the Lord—though His voice and appearance so overwhelmed them with fear and reverence that they did not dare ask Him who He was—said to them: “Come and eat”; and distributed to them, as once before in Galilee, fish and bread. During this blessed meal, Christ three times addressed Peter with the question of whether he loved Him. And to the trembling answer of Peter, in whose hearing each of Christ’s questions seemed to contain an allusion to his threefold denial, the Savior three times answered: “Feed My sheep”—thus restoring him to his former dignity of apostleship. To this Christ added a prediction of the martyrdom awaiting Peter for the sake of the Gospel, when He said to him: “Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were younger, you dressed yourself and walked where you wanted; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.”

Then Christ, in order to confirm His resurrection not only to the apostles but also to His other disciples and followers, appointed for a meeting one of the mountains in Galilee—in that place where the greater part of His public ministry had passed. And there gathered not only all eleven apostles but also besides them five hundred disciples and female followers. They all joyfully, but also not without trembling, awaited the promised appearance. The nature of their Teacher was incomprehensible to them. How many times He had appeared to them, eaten with them, allowed them to touch His wounds—but the unexpected appearances of Him to them had until now continued to cause them confusion. They did not yet have that Spirit who would teach them all things. And now, gathered on the deserted mountain, they awaited Him joyfully, but their joy was not without perplexity. The perplexity was interrupted by the appearance of the Teacher. “When they saw Him, they worshipped Him; but some doubted.” The latter were disturbed by the unexpected manner in which the Teacher appeared before them. Not understanding the spiritual nature of their Teacher’s being, transfigured by the resurrection, they still expected to see in Him the former Jesus clothed in gross flesh. But now the Teacher drew near to the disciples, and they heard from His lips the great words of an authoritative testament: “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth,” He said. “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you.” With reverential trembling the disciples listened to the great testament of their Teacher. Such words they had never yet heard. Before, they had heard the Teacher say that “all things had been delivered to Him by His Father,” but they understood these words as meaning His authority on earth, which was manifested in signs and miracles serving to alleviate the earthly sufferings and troubles of men, and was, in their conception, to be manifested in the restoration of the kingdom of Israel. Now, however, they heard that the authority of their Teacher extended also to heaven—and much became clear to them of what the Teacher had said to them and taught them previously, but which they had dimly understood, often giving it an entirely opposite interpretation. But the command to “go and make disciples of all nations” could not fail to throw them again into confusion. After all, the Teacher had all this time preached His teaching to only one people, and had even declared that He was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel—and now He commanded them to go throughout the whole world, to preach to all peoples… Who were they—poor fishermen—to go throughout the whole world, when they had barely even a vague notion of the existence of other peoples, and when all their geographical knowledge was limited to an unclear conception of the borders of their native land, beyond which lay an unknown world, terrible to the imagination, of beast-like “gentiles?” It had never even occurred to them that they would have to go and teach all nations. In their own native land, in their own native tongue, they had transmitted the teaching of their Teacher with difficulty, constantly turning to Him for elucidation—and now how were they to go preaching throughout the whole world, to all peoples, and moreover alone, without the Teacher who was leaving them forever? The love-filled Teacher, seeing the confusion of His disciples, said to them the great encouraging word: “And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age!” And the disciples rejoiced at the comforting word, and a new surge of courage they felt in their hearts. The mental horizon of the fishermen expanded. Before them opened the prospect of the whole world of that time. Before them in the overseas blue appeared Greece, drowning in the worship of nature and intoxicated by the charms of beauty; before them opened iron Rome with its world dominion; Egypt, with its still proud and sumptuous priests and age-old pyramids—and the poor fishermen were no longer afraid to go and teach the peoples of these enlightened lands. “With Him”—with their Teacher—they would go throughout the whole world. And indeed afterward, when they had received the promised Comforter, they flew like winged eagles (in the words of a church hymn) throughout the whole world, and the astonished nations bowed before the standard of the cross.

Having appeared after this also to the Apostle James, Christ then commanded the disciples to assemble for a final meeting, appointing Jerusalem for this purpose.

The noisy, populous city was entirely submerged in the bustle of everyday life. It had fully calmed down on the false news spread by the soldiers that Jesus of Nazareth had been stolen dead from His tomb by His disciples—only its leaders with their guilty conscience looked around timidly, listening to the popular rumor, trying to suppress in it the glimmers of truth and confusing it with new fabrications. Amid this noisy whirl of city bustle, in one modest upper room the disciples of Christ had gathered, and all their thoughts were concentrated on the expectation of the Teacher. “Peace to you”—rang out the loving voice of the Teacher, who had unexpectedly appeared in their midst. Now no doubt disturbed the disciples—their whole being was occupied with boundless love for their Teacher and sorrow at the approaching parting. The last farewell discourse began. The content of such discourses is understandable. In them the sum of all the teaching is set forth; the Teacher places his soul into the souls of his disciples, on whom rests all his hope that his teaching will not die but will live on in his living successors. The Divine Teacher made a brief review of all His previous teaching. “These are the words which I spoke to you while I was still with you,” He reminded His disciples; and then reproduced before them the Old Testament prophecies running in an unbroken chain about Him—what was written concerning Him “in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms.” Much here was still unclear to the disciples, so the Teacher “opened their minds to understand the Scriptures. And He said to them: Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. And you are witnesses of these things. And behold, I send the Promise of My Father upon you.” The disciples listened to the divine speech, and the grief of parting was covered by joy in the illumination of their minds, before which the mysterious realm of God’s economy opened ever wider—and by joy over the promise that the Teacher gave them.

Meanwhile the hour of parting drew near. The Teacher led the disciples out of the city in the direction of Bethany, toward the Mount of Olives. The bloodthirsty, lawless city was not worthy to be a witness of the great event. No one noticed how the small group of disciples, headed by their Teacher, left the city and, passing through one of the eastern gates, descended into the valley of Jehoshaphat, through which the Kidron stream wound its way, already low in water at that season. How many times the Divine Teacher had walked this path with His disciples! It was the path both of His glory and of His sufferings. On the sides of the road and along the banks of the Kidron the olive trees and palm trees nodded their branches despondently: from these very trees the treacherous people had torn branches to strew on the road for the triumphal entry of Jesus Christ into Jerusalem, and from the surrounding trees had made the cross on which to nail that same Christ. Having crossed the bridge spanning the stream and passed by the Garden of Gethsemane, the wayfarers began to climb the mountain. And now they were at its summit. Rising above all the surroundings, Olivet commands a distant, enchanting view. Directly below the mountain lies the populous city with its magnificent temple, with the noisy plaza—the Haram; behind it to the west the distant blue of the Mediterranean Sea is visible; to the southeast, as in a grave, the Dead Sea undulates in the surrounding hollow lying far below sea level; on the eastern slope of the mountain nestles Bethany, where Martha and Mary lived with their resurrected brother Lazarus; to the north stretch the boundless hills of Galilee, between which like a blue ribbon winds the swift-flowing Jordan; to the south—Bethlehem… How many memories, how many thoughts does this picture arouse even now! For the disciples and their Divine Teacher, this picture breathed a life just lived through; on all the details of this picture there still lay the traces of their activity, their feelings, their joys and tears. Their gaze involuntarily swept over all the surroundings: near Bethlehem the shepherds still tend their flock as before—perhaps these were the very shepherds who first paid homage to the Divine Infant; and there are the native Galilean hills, among which the childhood of both the Teacher and the majority of His disciples had passed; underfoot rumbles the lawless city, deaf to goodness, that killed the prophets… “Jerusalem, Jerusalem!…” Yonder beyond Bethany the bare branches of the barren fig tree protrude: such, Jerusalem, will your fate be also! But the city is deaf, entirely submerged in its bustle, and does not wish to know that soon not one stone will remain upon another in it!…

Such a view the disciples rarely had occasion to see, and struck by its grandeur, forgetting the tenderness of the parting moment, they turned to the Teacher with a question from which it was apparent how little they still understood the purpose of Christ’s ministry: “Lord, will You at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” they asked. To this day they were still more sons of “the kingdom of Israel” than sons of “the kingdom of Christ!”… “It is not for you,” the Teacher answered them, “to know times or seasons which the Father has put in His own authority. But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” Having repeated to them this promise of the Holy Spirit, who would give them strength and teach them all things, the Teacher, crossing His arms, blessed them, and as He blessed them He began to withdraw from them and to ascend into heaven. The disciples lifted their eyes to watch the beginning Ascension of Jesus Christ, but suddenly a cloud appeared and “took Him out of their sight.” From the very resurrection, Jesus Christ had not been constantly with the disciples, but had appeared to them at various times and so unexpectedly that He sometimes caused them perplexity; and just as unexpectedly He would withdraw from them. From such appearances the disciples were to understand that the nature of their Teacher was free from the denseness and heaviness of crude materiality. But only now did they fully realize that their Teacher no longer belonged to the perishable earth, and that glorified He had ascended to heaven, where He had been from the beginning of ages.

In mute reverence the disciples stood motionless on the mountain, their gaze fixed on the departing cloud. And long would the disciples have stood there in a trance of tender emotion, had not the voice of heavenly messengers brought them out of this state. “Men of Galilee!” they heard a voice addressed to them. The disciples started, and before their gaze stood two men in white clothing. “Why do you stand gazing up into heaven?” the heavenly messengers continued. “This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will so come in like manner as you saw Him go into heaven.” And the disciples worshipped the Ascended One, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, where they remained without departing, until they received the promised Comforter Spirit and were clothed with power from on high.

Thus ended the earthly life of our Lord Jesus Christ; and the history set forth here is but a brief sketch of it—as it were a drop from an immeasurable sea. As the beloved disciple testifies: “And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”