For those who grieve, time is a burden. It moves through emptiness with excruciating slowness, its spiritual malaise aggravated by fleeting memories of joys that never again will be.

From sundown Friday when she watched as they placed her Lord in the stone vault until sundown Saturday, the world had stood still for Mary of Magdala. These were the holy hours of the Sabbath when the faithful praised God for the goodness of life, but for Mary they were an eternity of sorrow.

The widow Mary of Jerusalem and her young son, John Mark, had urged her to come with them to the temple.

"It is not good for you to stay alone and grieve," she had said. "Come with us. The ceremonials for the holy day will bring peace to your mind."

But Mary of Magdala had not answered. Instead, she had walked to the win…