The Son of God invented death.
And the Son of God cannot die.
So whenever there seems to be death, the Son of God must be pretending to die, all the while underneath that He is laughing at how everyone (really other parts of Himself) is falling for believing that it's really happening.
The Son of God loves to play with death like a toy, pretending that it's real, make-believing that it can happen. Yet it is just a performance, just for show, inside His own mind, between Him and Himself, acting as though he is both the performer on the stage and the audience watching.
Nobody can really die. So why do we take it so seriously? It's because we keep falling for our own illusion, our belief that how things appear is how they are. We don't see the Son of God playing at pretending to be dead.
How can an immortal being suffer or die? It's impossible. It has to be fake. There can't be such a thing as real death.
Those who seem to go through with it and leave their bodies seemingly never to return.... well, fooled us... they'll be back in some other disguise you may not recognize. Maybe a Japanese farmer, maybe a tribeswoman in Africa, maybe an American psychopath, or a French truffle collector, who knows.
All this play and pretense that death is possible, deceived by illusions and exploring the many ways to pretend that you can die when you can't. It's a tragic-seeming performance, only when you don't recognize who is doing the acting. It's a starring role, Christ Himself giving the best performance of His life.
And at some point this will all be confessed and admitted to and acknowledged, and then nobody will ever believe again that death was ever really possible, or that anyone has ever really died. And then we (the Son of God in His collective wholeness) will remember to laugh.