Note: On Tuesdays, you can find me at Your Daily Tripod, owned by my friend TonyD. A longer version of the post below appears there.
Perhaps it’s as much about what she didn’t say as it is about what she did say.
“Rabboni,” by Gutzon Borglum, Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington, DC. (own work)
Mary doesn’t recognize Jesus, not at first. Then He calls her by name, and she knows.
“Rabbouni,” she says—and maybe hugs him, because He asks her to stop holding him. Or maybe it’s a metaphysical request.
She doesn’t ask what’s happened, how it happened, or what’s going to happen.
“Rabbouni.”
I’d like to think that’s what each of us will say when we meet Him in eternal life, not launch into a list of things we want explained, like why we had to struggle with a chronic illness or why someone we loved was taken from us too soon or any of a number of other puzzlements. As important as those things are to us on earth, I doubt they’ll matter after we’re joined with Him.
“Rabbouni.”
He came. He taught. He died for our sins. He went to the Father and continues to keep loving watch over us. But now it’s our turn. He is the teacher of all teachers. And as the teacher of all teachers, He loves seeing us drink in His lessons—and sharing them.
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