Disclaimer: Biblical fiction is based on actual events, but elements have been added to enhance storytelling. For the accounts this story is based on, please refer to the Matthew 27:57-28:15; Mark 15:42-16:8; Luke 23:50-24:12; John 19:38-20:1.

“Azriel, get up!”

“Huh, what?” I said, still half asleep. The room was dark. Friday night. My wife was sitting up in bed, kicking my legs under the blankets. 

“Someone’s banging on the door and calling for you. Go on, get up!”

“Damaris, you’re hearing things. Go back to be–”

BANG, BANG, BANG.

“There! There it is again!”

She was right, someone was indeed thumping on our door, calling for me. Groggily, I stumbled out of bed and wrapped myself in a robe. I shuffled to the door just as the knocking started again.

BANG, BANG–

The noise stopped as I unlatched the bolt. Easing the door open, I saw a young Pharisee impatiently standing in the moonlight. He was one of the disciples of the High Priest.

“Azriel, you’ve been summoned to assemble a squad to guard the tomb of the heretic Jesus.”

My foggy brain couldn’t quite grasp what I was hearing, and I was grumpy from being woken up. “Are you kidding me? What time is it?”

“The third watch. You must be going. The High Priest was adamant…”

“It’s the middle of the night! The sun’s going to rise on the Passover Sabbath in a few hours, and you want me to guard a corpse?!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you will do. As I said, the High Priest–”

“Yes, yes. I heard you the first time.” I was fully awake now. “Does Pilate know about this? Do we even have permission to take a body off a cross? The Romans still have custody, you know, even after he’s dead.”

“He’s already been moved,” the Pharisee said. “Pilate allowed the Arimathean to bury him in his own tomb, near Golgotha. We’ll deal with him later. However, the High Priest assured me that first thing in the morning he’ll personally obtain permission–”

“Wait, the High Priest is going to see Pilate on the most sacred Sabbath of the year?!”

My mind was reeling. Nothing made sense.

“Yes, Azriel. Stop interrupting me. Select a squad from the Temple guard and make sure nobody can get at Jesus’ body. Now go, quickly!”

With that, he spun and stomped off. I slowly shook my head, bewildered. What’s happening here? Grudgingly, I turned back into the house, dressed myself, reassured my worrying wife, and marched off into the night.

*     *     *

I can see why the Romans like Golgotha for executions – easily seen from the city walls and nearby highways, and near the governor’s residence. And there’s that old rock quarry down below for burying all the bodies. It always amazes me how deep those cliffs drop down into the earth. And so wide! A stone’s throw across in all directions, two in some places. It must be the most popular cemetery in the area – you must have relatives buried there. Deep and shady, perfect for collecting rainwater. The once-barren quarry floor is now a garden of sorts, where families can visit cherished tombs and reminisce among the flowers and trees. Not a bad place to visit, as far as graveyards go. Our ancestors, who cut and carried those great stones to build our city were aptly laid to rest where they had toiled so hard. Many died of natural causes, surrounded by loved ones, but some were executed on the cliffs above by the Romans. Whether deserving or not, they were exposed on the cross for the whole world to see, then carried down to their final resting places carved into the rock below. How very convenient. Same went for Jesus – crucified up on the cliffs of Golgotha and then buried down in the quarry garden. And I got stuck guarding his tomb.

I couldn’t believe I was marching down into the pit in the dark. It had been such a long week of day shifts and now I was about to work on the Sabbath instead of resting at home with my family. This is crazy. Even after he’s dead, Jesus is still causing trouble.

In the moonlight, I could see Golgotha high on the cliff toward the city. The rock had split from the ridge all the way to the valley floor and down into the ground. Boulders and fresh fragments of limestone littered the grass around the massive crack. That’s new. Must’ve happened during the earthquake. It was like the earth was torn from the crosses all the way down into the depths. 

We arrived at the bottom during the fourth watch of the night. Two old men were there with their servants and an empty cart, preparing to leave. I overheard them speaking.

“It was good of you to give him your tomb.” 

“I only wish I could do more. But come, we’ve got to hurry before the sun comes up.”

As I approached, they turned and saw my uniform. Resentment filled their eyes. I represented the authority that arrested and accused Jesus, and eventually got him killed. In the moonlight, I recognized Nicodemus from the Council. The rumors of his blasphemous belief in Jesus were clearly true. However, he didn’t seem so ashamed of it now that Jesus was dead.

The other man was named Joseph. He had recently moved to Jerusalem with his family from Arimathea, near the coast. Joseph was another devout, rich Jew who had been voted into the Council. 

I spoke first. “Is that the body of Jesus you’ve put in there?”

“Azriel,” said Nicodemus, “you must be here to ease the anxiety of the High Priest. Guarding the tomb, are you? Need to make sure nobody’s fooled into thinking he’s come back to life? Rest assured, his disciples are in hiding. You’ll get no trouble from them.”

“Is this your tomb?” I asked Joseph.

“It is,” he replied. “Or rather, it was. Carved out earlier this year, though not yet used. I’m honored to give it as the final resting place for such a great prophet.”

The tomb was still open, but a big slab of stone was poised and ready to roll into place over the entrance. A low doorway was chiseled into the cliff, which led into the tomb room itself. I took a torch and stooped inside. There were multiple ledges carved into the rock, but only one was occupied. A lone corpse was wrapped in graveclothes, lying motionless on its stony bed. I pulled back the face cloth and saw the ashen face of Jesus in the torchlight. His once lively eyes were half-open and glazed over. No breath moved past his lips. Jesus was dead. I saw it for myself. Not a wisp of life left. Looked like every drop of blood had been drained from his broken body. 

“Azriel,” Nicodemus called from outside, “we must be going.”

I replaced the face cloth. As I turned to leave, I saw dozens of jars full of burial ointments and spices stacked neatly against the far wall, presumably to be applied later this week. There must have been over a hundred pounds there, far more than any one corpse would require.

“Is that all for him?” I asked.

Nicodemus ignored my question and instead spoke to Joseph. “It’s getting light. We’d better get home before the Sabbath begins.”

The dark purple sky was giving way to blue towards the east, while the undersides of the few clouds were glowing red and orange. The Sabbath was dawning.

I stepped out. One of the servants pulled away the brace and gave the entrance stone a shove. It rolled a full turn down a short slope and slammed home against the opening of the tomb, securing Jesus inside and everyone else out. It would’ve taken my squad all day to move it out of the way again. Nicodemus and Joseph plodded away with their servants and the empty cart.

Earlier that night, when I arrived at the Temple to gather the squad, I’d received further instruction. The High Priest was there, along with the rest of the Council, still discussing and debating what to do about the “Jesus situation.” 

“Here, take this,” he had said as he handed me his signet ring. He also gave me a pile of crimson wax, the same that’s used in the Temple for official purposes. “Make sure it’s closed up tight. There can be no doubt that it was never opened. Once it’s sealed, return the ring to me immediately. Then guard the tomb with your life.”

Seal the tomb? Is that really necessary? Isn’t an armed guard enough? He just wanted someone to blame if it failed, however unlikely. Yet his words left no uncertainty about what would happen to us if Jesus’ body disappeared. Come seal it yourself if you’re so afraid. “Yes sir,” I had replied. 

Resentment towards the priesthood was starting to boil over. Nonetheless, after the entrance stone fell into place, I poured hot wax all along the seam. While it was still soft, I pressed the High Priest’s ring into the wax, imprinting his unique emblem. I sealed it not once but seven times, all around the edge of the stone. Then I sent three of my best men back to Jerusalem to return the ring. As long as that ring remained on the hand of the High Priest, there was no way the body of Jesus could move.

Or so I thought.

With the tomb sealed, I surveyed the quarry in the growing light. Across from us, quietly watching, was a small group of women. Great, just what we need. An audience.

“Hey, you there!” I called to them. “Get out of here. Go home to your husbands and children. Look, the Sabbath is dawning and if you’re caught outside when day breaks there’ll be hell to pay.”

That wasn’t true. Nobody really follows the Sabbath laws, except around the Pharisees. There are just too many. Besides, it’s not like the Romans would let us keep the city gates closed for a whole day once a week. Nevertheless, the women slowly walked off after the empty cart.

We were finally alone. I organized a rotation so some could nap while others patrolled. The sun rose uneventfully on Saturday, and the Passover Sabbath passed in peace. Reinforcements and rations arrived around midday. Nobody else ventured down into the quarry graveyard. A quiet day to guard a tomb.

Little did I know what would come later that night, the most terrifying night of my life.

*     *     *

Now, about what happened. It all began quietly enough. The first watch settled around the campfire while the rest of us drifted off to sleep. It was midnight. The start of the third watch. It was a starry night, with just the soft sounds of nature serenading us as we took turns watching and sleeping.

Without warning, the sky burst open above us. Blazing light blasted us, brighter than a hundred suns! Instantly, we all fell on our faces in terror. Then an army marched down from the sky, from heaven to earth, with trumpets blaring and voices shouting! A shining man stepped forward and rolled the massive stone away from the entrance of the tomb without any effort at all.

We were dumbstruck, eyes burning from the light and ears ringing from the thunderous sound. Urine soaked every groin. We all shook like lunatics, unable to watch what was happening but unable to look away. The earth trembled with every step the man took. The sound and the light in that moment were more than I could bear! I fully expected to die from the intensity of the moment. In fact, I wished I was dead rather than witness such a terrifying scene.

The last thing I remember was an explosion of radiance from inside the tomb. Heat and light beyond measure. Something even more powerful than the heavenly army was coming out towards us!

That was it. I was burned alive by the unbearable glory. It all happened so quickly. Then I died. Or at least I thought I did.

*     *     *

I woke up this morning to the shuffling of feet in the dirt. It was the women from Friday night, except that instead of weeping and reluctance to leave the graveyard, they were now wide-eyed and running away. 

My whole body hurt, like the world's worst hangover. My eyes were still burning, ears still ringing. 

There was a fragrance in the air. The whole cemetery smelled of myrrh, aloe, and every other spice. It was beautiful. The tomb itself was empty, devoid not only of Jesus’ body but also the jars of spices brought by Nicodemus and Joseph. They must have been vaporized and blasted outward. Now everything in the vicinity was anointed. Including me. Now you know why I smell like heaven.

There weren't many of us guards left. We all know the deal – fail in our duties and we forfeit our lives. Well, we failed. The tomb was empty. The rest of them must have taken off, knowing their lives were in danger. 

But how did we survive last night? I don't know what happened, but it was certainly not something natural. I had just witnessed the absolute glory of something divine.

Stumbling into the city, I discovered my uniform half-burned off me, as you can see. Even my sword had melted in its sheath. Beard and eyebrows singed. I turned a lot of heads as I trudged along, alone, to report back to the High Priest. It might have meant certain death, but I'm still a soldier. My honor is worth more than my life. Besides, if I ran, I'd endanger the lives of my family too. Better me than them.

However, once again, I didn't die! Not last night and not today at the hand of the High Priest. They were back where I’d seen them last, huddled in their Council room in the Temple. I told them everything, but I wasn't reprimanded. Not even lectured! They seemed to believe me, but they didn’t make a big deal about it. They downplayed the whole thing! Smiles, jokes, an arm around my shoulder. 

“Azriel, you look so nervous! Not to worry. You’ve done excellent work guarding the tomb all night, and you deserve adequate compensation for such a difficult job. But let’s not alarm the people – no need to cause another riot. Just tell everyone that a mob of his disciples overpowered you and stole the body to deceive us all that he’d come back to life. Those evil disciples, they’re the ones who should be punished, not you! Tell the rest of your squad to come see us – you’ll all receive the same amount for your faithful service. And remember, the disciples stole the body.”

I looked with disdain at the hand resting on my shoulder. The touch, the false friendliness, was revolting. It might as well have been a snake. And there on the index finger was the ring that had sealed the tomb closed. The symbol of his authority meant nothing to me anymore. All the power of the High Priest couldn’t keep Jesus in the grave.

I was paid and sent away. Now I'm looking at the dirty money in my hands, and I hate myself for it. What happened last night? How am I still alive? And who was this Jesus?  Even if it takes the rest of my life, I'm going to find out the truth about this man. I feel like the greatest thing in the history of the world has just happened. I witnessed it and somehow lived to tell about it. And that's exactly what I must do now. Bribe or not, I must live to tell about this Jesus.

*     *     *

Angels in popular culture are typically portrayed as glowing cherubs dressed in white robes, floating with feathery wings and playing harps. They’re soft-spoken, meek-mannered figures that sit on shoulders offering grandmotherly advice. 

However, anytime angels appear in the Bible, the experience is completely opposite. They’re described as fearsome-looking young men, often blazing with light, carrying weapons and possessing extraordinary strength (1). Sometimes they appear alone (2), sometimes with an army of others (3). The reaction to these heavenly beings is always one of overwhelming fear. We know this because their statements typically begin with, “Don’t be afraid!” (4)  

Easier said than done.

The Bible says, “it’s a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (5). God takes it a step further when he says this about himself: “No man can see me and live” (6). This isn’t because God will strike down anyone who lays eyes on him, as if he was too embarrassed to be seen by people. Rather, the Bible states a simple fact: the vision of God is so terribly overwhelming that the human body in its earthly form cannot handle the enormity of the experience. The direct presence of God is deadly. The people of Israel, when witnessing the glory of God, begged to not hear his voice, lest they die (7).  

Therefore, even God’s messengers (angels) are frightening enough to terrify the toughest soldier. Matthew specifically records the reaction at Jesus’ empty tomb: “The guards were so scared that they shook and became like the dead” (8). That is to say, they fainted in fear. 

FOOTNOTES

1. Matthew 28:2-3, Mark 16:3-5, Luke 24:4-5 

2.  Joshua 5:13-14; Numbers 22:22-31; Judges 6:12 

3. Genesis 28:12; Genesis 32:1-2; Luke 2:13; Revelation 5:11 

4. Daniel 10:7-12, Matthew 28:5, Luke 1:13, Luke 1:30, Luke 2:10 

5. Hebrews 10:31 

6. Exodus 33:20 

7. Exodus 20:18-20 

8. Matthew 28:4