The experience of these two disciples is introduced here in order to bring out into fuller relief the greater devotedness of the Magdalene. The contrast is designed, as is clear from the words, “But Mary stood without at the sepulcher weeping.” She could not go away to her own home, like the two disciples; her heart, desolate though it was, constrained her to remain at the spot where she had last seen the precious body of her Lord. “For her,” as another has written, “without Jesus, the whole world was nothing but an empty sepulcher; her heart was more empty still. She stays there at the sepulcher, where the Lord whom she loved had been....She could not be comforted, because He was no more.” It was indeed a dark moment in the history of her soul: she was learning what it was to be morally dead with Christ. But He, risen from the dead as He was, had His eye upon her, and was only waiting for the proper moment to wipe away her tears by the revelation of Himself. One other stop preceded her blessing: “As she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulcher, and seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.” Observe how her heart is absorbed with her Lord. One thought, and one thought alone, engrossed her soul, and that was that she had lost her Lord. She was blind and deaf to everything else, for without Him she possessed absolutely nothing. So intense, moreover, was her attachment to Christ, that, as if there were no other on the face of the earth who loved Him, she appropriated Him entirely to herself. To the disciples she said, “the Lord,” to the angels she said, “my Lord.” It is the way of love; for while strong as death, its jealousy is as cruel as the grave which, closing in upon and possessing its object, excludes every other. And such love can never be quenched by the many waters nor drowned by the floods.
How pleasing to the heart of the Lord must have been these signs of Mary’s deathless affection, and it might be surely said, that they constituted an irresistible appeal to His own heart. Yea, He felt for her and sympathized with her in the desolation of her grief, and He was already on His way to give her the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Thus, when she had answered the question of the angels, “she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus.” All her desire was before her eyes and yet she was so preoccupied with her own sorrow and with her own thoughts, that she did not recognize her Lord. It was not, say as with the two disciples on the way to Emmaus, that her eyes were holden; but, as she had no thought at that moment of Jesus except as having been buried and taken away from the tomb, she was too absorbed with her own feelings to think of anything else. There was Jesus standing before her eyes, and she knew not that it was Jesus. How often have we been in similar circumstances? In the midst of great disappointments or griefs, the Lord has drawn near to our souls, and we did not recognize Him. Instead of welcoming Him, we were rather like the disciples who, when they saw Jesus walking upon the sea, thought that they had seen a spirit, and cried out for fear. We can therefore understand how it was that Mary did not recognize her Lord. Indeed, it was of Himself that she did not, for He was seeking His sheep, and about to call her by name, and through grace she was ready to hear and to respond to that well-known voice.