These differences are significant because they put into relief what these accounts have in common. Whatever the particular gospel tradition, two elements recur in them. There is always something immediate and physical. The women running from the tomb in Matthew, and Mary Magdalene alone in John, cling to him; in John, Thomas is invited to place his finger into Jesus’s wounded hands and his hand into His side; on various occasions, whether in the upper room in Jerusalem, at Emmaus, or by the lakeside, Jesus is said to eat with the Disciples or He invites them to eat. At the same time, besides this physical immediacy there is also something surprising or odd. And so Mary Magdalene, first of all, supposes Jesus to be the gardener; the Disciples on the road to Emmaus also fail at first to recognise Him; when He shows himself to the Disciples in the upper room, we are told that he entered even though the door was locked; and there is also that more general expression in Matthew’s Gospel when Jesus meets the Disciples on the mountain in Galilee and we are told that “some doubted”.
There is always this combination of the immediate and the odd. My favourite example is the moment in St John’s Gospel when, after an unsuccessful fishing expedition, a figure on the shore calls to Peter and the others, encouraging them to cast their nets again. They do so and haul in an immense catch. They come ashore and have breakfast with Him. They recognise it is Jesus. But we are told, “Now none of the Disciples dared to ask him, ‘Who are you?’ because they knew it was the Lord”. If they knew Him, why is “daring” even mentioned?
These passages are not precise descriptions of events; instead they convey an experience. The man who was with them was really there, recognisably the man they had known and loved and followed; but he was not simply as He had been before.