"Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there."
John 19:41-42
The "garden tomb" is a contradiction of terms. And there is a cruel irony in how a place that is supposed to be filled with life is also home to the dead. This was not how it was meant to be. In the first garden, life was abundant. Death was nothing more than an ominous possibility rather than the harsh eventuality it is today.
Adam—our ancestor—walked with God in the cool of the evening with nothing but the soft grass under his feet. Trees of every variety provided a canopy for their walks, shading them from the elements. It's hard not to imagine that plants of all kinds lined the well-worn pathway they would take. On the ground, animals would no doubt scurry about seeing to their creaturely tasks. And in the air, birds would flutter and flint their way through the bows of the trees, all the while whistling their sweet little half-completed melodies.
In a word, existence was paradise.
But sadly, it was not to last. Eventually, humanity took matters into its own hands. And in trying to become gods themselves, they ushered Death into the garden that day and welcomed him as if he was some long-lost friend. Ever since, some of the best-kept gardens on our planet have also doubled as gravesites, a mock reminder that though we were designed for life, we chose to embrace Death.
For countless generations, men and women would be born only to die. Dads would be taken too soon. Moms would fall to some ravenous disease. Even children, innocent and unaware of the beauties in this world, would lose their lives before they ever even learned what it meant to truly live. Though Adam had many descendants, Death would dig graves great and small, and he would fill them all. He was the best at this craft, and he liked his job very much. Not a single person ever escaped his grasp.
That is, until Jesus.
Jesus was an extraordinary man. Born in a nondescript town to an unremarkable family, many called this son of a carpenter "Rabbi. "And though he was a teacher, he stalked Death for over three decades like some tenacious hunter. Wherever Death would set a trap, Jesus would be there to set his captive free while never losing sight of his prey.
Once, Death was in the process of devouring a little girl. He hadn't finished his meal yet. But the end was close. So close, everyone could feel his slimy presence. In desperation, the girl's father, a man by the name of Jairus, sought Jesus out to ask him for help. And so they were off, trekking their way to the man's home.
But Death was not worried. He did not yet know Jesus well enough to be properly worried. Death even chuckled to himself, "What could this son of a carpenter do? He might as well build the man a coffin." And his suspicions were seemingly confirmed when the girl died while Jesus was en route. Death had finished his meal and was well on into dessert. But, not one to miss a good show, Death watched out of the corner of his eye as he saw Jesus take the girl's hand into his. Curiously, he heard this teacher say, "Little girl…arise." And, to his surprise, the girl got up and started walking around.
Moreover, dying must make a person terribly famished because the parents had to feed the small child the moment she awoke (cf. Mar. 5:43)! Ironically, that girl ate well that day while Death went hungry. He had never before been robbed of his meal before. And he didn't like it.
Another time, Death took an only son. He had already taken the boy's father some years before, leaving his mother widowed. And he had every intention of going after the mother too. Death is obsessive, you see. He would need the whole family set. But that could wait. For now, he was satisfied with getting the last son of this house. After all, with no one to carry on the family name, Death contented himself knowing that he had killed someone's lineage as easily as he slew someone's little boy.
But, out of nowhere, that same man interrupted the funeral procession. Death's countenance began to fade as he heard Jesus saying almost the exact same words to the dead boy that he said to that little girl: "Young man, I say to you, arise." Death mused to himself, "Was this Jesus mocking him? They are dead! Why does he keep talking to them like they’re only asleep?!" But he had only a moment to consider this when, to his great dismay, the boy, once cold, quiet, and lifeless, began to speak (cf. Lu. 7:15).
Jesus had stolen another one. Death had been robbed again! "Something must be done," he thought. So, with great determination, Death set himself entirely to killing this roaming Rabbi.
Death amassed more than a few allies to help in his cause as time went on. The first to join him was Satan and his children. Death was shocked to find that Satan's own offspring weren't demons at all but humans who called themselves the "Pharisees" (cf. Jn. 8:44-45). But even more surprising was that he stumbled across an unlikely ally in one of Jesus' own disciples. "Judas," they called him, would willingly sell his mother for the right price. And, apparently, it only took 30 pieces of silver for him to sell out Jesus. And once Judas was on board, it was all downhill. From there, all it took was a few fixed trials to have him hung on a Roman cross. This Jesus didn't even put up a fight. "Honestly," Death said, "I thought it would be more difficult than this. It's almost like he wanted to die."
Now, considering the other two crucified alongside Jesus had to have their legs broken before Death could have them, he was somewhat taken aback when Jesus muttered something about being "finished," and then that was it. Jesus was dead. Death had turned the tables. The hunter had become the prey. And, like so many who had died before, they even buried Jesus in a garden tomb.
But, while Death's allies seemed convinced, Death felt an unease settle in his stomach. "Why would he roll over so easily when it came to his own life," he wondered.
Then, at that moment, he remembered Lazarus. Death recalled how, despite the man's stinking and decaying body, Jesus was still able to raise his friend from the dead (cf. Jn. 11:39). And so, the day after the crucifixion, Death peaked inside that borrowed tomb to see if Jesus was still there. He was. Death breathed a sigh of relief. But, just to be certain, he came back on day two. "Good," He thought, "still dead."
On day three, Death went to that garden tomb more out of habit than anything else. But, upon arriving, he sees that, far from lying lifeless on a stone slab, Jesus was talking with one of his silly followers. And while they thought him nothing more than a gardener (cf. Jn. 20:11), Death was not mistaken. That was him. That was Jesus. Death would've recognized him from a mile away. Somehow, Jesus was alive!
What's worse, Death felt different. He didn't feel as powerful as he did the day before. He felt weak. He'd never felt like that before. Causally, he takes his tail in his hands and sees, to his horror, his stinger had been ripped out root and stem (cf. 1 Cor. 15:55-57). Reflexively Death screeched, "WHERE IS IT???!!!"
As if he had heard his forlorn cries, Jesus turns and meets Death's eye. Not only that, this man who should've been dead begins walking towards him. Death is afraid. He wants to run, but he can't move. It is as if Jesus' gaze has fixed him in place.
Jesus comes to stand in front of Death, but he does not say a word. And with the effortless grace of one picking a flower, Jesus takes the keys from Death's talons (cf. Rev. 1:18). For the first time in his life, Death was defeated that day. And, since then, “garden tombs” never again held as much appeal.
Jesus had ruined it.
