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Easter Day, 04/01/2018
Sermon on Mark 16:1-8, by Luke Bouman
Mark 16:1 When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. 2 And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. 3 They had been saying to one another, "Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?" 4 When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. 5 As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. 6 But he said to them, "Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. 7 But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you." 8 So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
Life Wins
The ending to Mark’s Gospel is unlike the other three. It was so jarring and absolutely strange even to those who read it in the very first decades of its existence that, comparing it to the other three Gospel texts, editors took it upon themselves to add to this ending. What they felt we can only guess. But a cursory examination of their additions lends itself to a certain easy, and probably not incorrect, hypothesis. Something was missing, probably something certain and hopeful. The ancient Greek text is even more certainly fearful, almost terror stricken. Word order doesn’t matter in Greek, so we cannot tell for sure. But one translation that is possible, even likely, is that the last phrase of Mark’s original, unaltered text reads: “They were afraid, because…”
When we read Mark’s Gospel on Easter Sunday these many years later, we cannot help but see what is missing. In Mark’s Gospel we do not meet the risen Jesus. We only meet a mysterious young man dressed in a white robe sitting in the tomb. We do not have any of the disciples themselves going to the tomb. There is no race between Peter and John to see who gets there first. We only have the women, who are told, “He has been raised; he is not here.” Then they are sent to spread the news. The fact that the eye witness account of a women was not accepted as evidence in court in the First Century landscape of this text should alone be enough to make one wonder whether something more should be added to give credence to its message. Like the other Gospels, however, this news alone is not enough to send them out into the world joyfully proclaiming the good news. They are seized by terror and amazement. They said nothing to anyone. “They were afraid, because…”
If the author wanted to make a bold, believable, statement to his readers, both ancient and modern, he probably could not have picked a worse way to go about it. That’s one of the reasons I am drawn to Mark’s resurrection account, perhaps more than the other Gospels. To my mind it lacks the kind of polish that a more well planned and carefully thought out ruse might otherwise require. If Mark was trying to say that THIS story was intended to fool people into thinking that an otherwise dead Jesus was really alive, I would declare the attempt a total failure. In fact, ended this way, I am more like to think it true. This ending to the story of Jesus is raw, both in its conservation of words and its emotion and effect. The fear that the women must have felt on that day is brought into our midst and laid before us all too clearly. “They were afraid, because…”
It isn’t that fear was a stranger to them. The followers of Jesus had been subjected to the indignity and terrorizing reign of the occupying Romans for more than a century. The Jewish provinces were particularly troublesome. The crackdowns were harsh and violent. Crucifixion was a common tool for the quieting of the rebellious spirit. It wasn’t only death that was threatened, it was a particularly public and cruel sort of death. The people longed for release from their long nightmare. They had been hopeful when Jesus came, proclaiming the Reign of God, as he did. But those hopes were dashed when he had been executed. And his followers, those who had not abandoned him at any rate, were now afraid that they, too, would be the subject of persecution, perhaps even execution. Of course, life was hard for those who lived under the oppression of the immovable empire. Hunger and poverty were common. Justice was bought and sold like yesterday’s bread. Disease was widespread and often deadly. Of course, Jesus offered them hope for all of these maladies and the fear that goes with it as well. Mark’s Gospel notes the healings, the feeding of the people, the call for God’s just Reign to return. These hopes also died with Jesus. I can’t help but wonder, how our fears today compare to the fears of those in the First Century? What fears do we bring with us on this Easter Day nearly two thousand years later? Most people are less desperate in the part of the world where I live. But with modern communication, we are made aware of those whose lives still suffer under the oppression of hunger, disease, and a thirst of Justice that seems only to belong to those who can afford it. We live in a world divided by those who rule. They keep people fighting one another to distract from their own use of power for personal gain. We see signs of young people, of women, even of men who grow dissatisfied with things as they are, protesting in the streets. Yet only a glimmer of hope for change clings to life amid the chaos.
Perhaps the biggest fear we face is a fear of death. It may not be on our minds, but that is probably with good reason. As a culture we have taken great pains to insulate ourselves from the reality of death’s imminence. We amuse ourselves with activity and entertainment in order to ignore our future demises. We welcome news of medical advances which, on the surface extend the quantity of our days at the expense of their quality. We send our infirm and the elderly among us to live segregated lives, so that we do not have to see them as they decline toward the inevitable. We deal with our fear of death by pretending it away. We have even begun to re-order our rituals of grief, no longer giving room to mourning, but rather insisting that all celebrate the lives instead of grieving those we have lost. We seek to justify the killing of others to preserve our own lives precisely because we are so afraid of the death of our bodies that we would rather live soulless existences of violence than face the reality of our own mortality. Make no mistake, we carry those ancient fears in our lives. We just mask them and pretend they are something else.
Death is strong. There is no escaping it. In its power all finally meet their demise. And that power commands respect, at least. It inspires terror in the strongest and bravest. The powerful use the threat of death as a tool to inspire fear and control those with less power. The most we can do is endure it. That’s what the women were doing at the tomb. They were enduring the power of death to crush their hopes and dreams. They were there to observe the rituals surrounding death and to honor him who died as they paid homage to death’s destructively awesome power.
But something changed that first Easter morning. They arrived at the tomb to discover it open, and EMPTY! The young man inside spoke good news for them to have and to share. HE HAS BEEN RAISED! HE IS NOT HERE! GO AND TELL HIS DISCIPLES… This is the news that shattered the world that they knew. Of course they were afraid. Such things spark awe and wonder, and yes, fear, into any heart. The world is not as they had known it. Death was no longer the strongest and worst power. Jesus endured death, but death could not contain Jesus. God raised him from the dead. No longer is death the final word. Death does not win in the end. LIFE WINS! This is new. It is good. It is good news. It is also terrifying news, at least at first. Because it confirms something that Mark’s Gospel has been hinting at all along. Jesus was not merely another human being. He did things that the Older Testament ascribed to God alone. He had power over demons and illness. He had power over wind and waves. On this day we discover that he has power even over death itself. Jesus, Mark hints, is the living presence of God, among us. We are invited, with all the readers of Mark’s Gospel, to go back to Galilee. We are invited to go back to the start of the Gospel and read it again! This time we don’t wonder who Jesus is. This time we know, we can read the signs, we can understand that God has joined us in this world. God has lived among us, invested in our life, endured with us suffering and death, and shown us that the power of death is penultimate. Life is more powerful still.
And of course, once the shock has worn off, the disciples, armed with this new understanding of how the world works, turn it upside down. They proclaim the victory of life and the power of God, through suffering and death, that leads, ultimately to life. They do not stay fearful, or silent, or hiding, for long. They venture out. They scatter to the ends of the earth.
The question remains what about us? Is this news? Is it new enough, awesome enough, terrifying enough to cause us pause before we, too, understand that what we thought of life is no longer valid? Can we see and experience, can we understand that death is no longer something to fear, to suppress, to flee? Can we find a way to experience the resurrection of Jesus as not simply something that happens to him, but rather something that alters the course of things we know to be true about the universe, about our world, about ourselves?
The resurrection of Jesus means, if nothing else, that we need no longer obsess about self-preservation, especially at the expense of others. There can be no reason now that Christians should seek to bear arms except in the service of others, but never in the service only of self. We no longer need to pursue pleasure and excess to avoid death. We are free to greet it as the natural outcome of this life, but also as the entry point to new and renewed life. We are free from living only for the moment and only for ourselves, and instead free to cherish each moment and live fully for others. The resurrection changes everything! It is not just about life after death. It is about a different kind of living now. And, of course, the prospect of this kind of radical difference is terrifying… and awesome… and freeing… and too good to keep to ourselves!
So, Go! Tell the world. Death no longer has dominion. Jesus has been raised! Life wins! Trust this means a new way of living in the world. It means peace, health, wholeness, justice and joy to those who believe, even in the midst of a dying world, that life has the last word. It did for Jesus. And because of him, it does for us.