Seven weeks after Jesus of Nazareth was crucified his friends and followers appeared on the streets of Jerusalem and declared that He had been raised from the dead. That declaration is the bedrock of Christian faith.

Now every Easter theories are rehearsed to explain what happened. Did the Disciples find the tomb empty because they had gone to the wrong one? Was the body of Jesus removed by persons unknown? Had it been stolen? Or perhaps Jesus survived His intended execution and was able to creep away. Such questions have been reviewed afresh by Professor Geza Vermes in his recent book, The Resurrection. His treatment is notable as always for the skill and respect that he brings to the issues. He sets these questions and theories in perspective and concludes by calling attention instead to the “powerful mystical experience” that the early followers of Jesus underwent, something that changed their cowardice into courage and impelled them to proclaim in public the good news that Jesus had made known to them. The Resurrection of Jesus refers to His spiritual presence as a living reality in the hearts of those who feel He is close to them.

The conclusion is moving, but still not quite satisfactory. All these explanations are straightforward, from a tomb identified as empty by mistake to a spiritual resurrection, which a cynic might dismiss as little more than a more elevated version of the conviction that “Elvis lives”. They make no demands on faith. There is no extra dimension. But what was it that triggered that powerful mystical experience that transformed Jesus's first followers?

The accounts in the four Gospels of the risen Jesus are very different. The witnesses vary and the place where these encounters occurred varies as well. In Matthew the Disciples are told to go to Galilee; in John, after seeing him first in Jerusalem, they meet him once more by the Sea of Tiberias; while in Luke all the appearances of the risen Jesus take place in Jerusalem.

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.

This combination of the immediate and the odd indicates the unique quality of the Disciples' privileged experience, offering us some insight into what overwhelmed and transformed them, something real, not of their making, that began to bear fruit through the Spirit at Pentecost.

Monsignor Roderick Strange is the Rector of the Pontifical Beda College, Rome