Jesus' body, the other women, and the disciples are gone. But Mary can't leave the empty tomb. If grief measures love, Mary is wailing. From time to time, she looks back in the tomb, wipes the snot and mucus from her face, and confirms her fears. She checks again and sees two angels. Strangely, she's not afraid. They care for her in a general sense: "Woman, why are you crying?" Her grief spills out: 'Some awful people stole the body of my Lord.' She turns around and sees Jesus. Again, she doesn't recognize what's in front of her. He repeats the angel's message: "Woman, why are you crying?" She's still perplexed: cemetery workers, and now the gardener? She begs for help: "Tell me where to find him. I'll carry the corpse. Let me care for him." It took two men and their servants to place Jesus in the tomb; how would she carry him away? She's surrounded by angels and the resurrected Jesus, but her grief keeps her from seeing. Remember his promises? "I call my own sheep by name" (John 10:3). "In a little while you will see me" (16:16). "You will become sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy." (16:20). Jesus says to her, "Mary." Her name, in Aramaic. She buries him in a hug. He's alive! The grief explodes into joy. Rabbouni! In John 4, a Samaritan woman at the well is filled with living water. She drops her water jar and runs into town. Now, he reveals that he is risen to Mary. She drops her grief and runs to the disciples. To eleven men who had run away and hidden, Jesus sends her with a message that would change the world: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." She found his brothers—and her brothers—and told them the good news: "I have seen the Lord!"