November 20
Mark 16:1-8
When the Sabbath
was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and salome bought perfumed
oils so that they could anoint Jesus. Very early, just after sunrise on the
first day of the week, they came to the tomb. They were saying to one another,
“Who will roll back the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked,
they found that the huge stone had been rolled back.
On entering the
tomb, they saw a young person sitting at the right, dressed in a white robe.
They were very frightened, but the youth reassured them: “Do not be amazed! You
are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, the one who was crucified. He has risen; he
is not here. See the place where they laid him. Now go and tell the disciples
and Peter, ‘Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee, where you will see him just
as he told you.’” They made their way out and fled from the tomb bewildered and
trembling; but they said nothing to anyone, because they were so afraid.
Like
the Palm Sunday text last week, it is difficult to read this passage and not
call to mind all the trappings and alleluias of Easter. And those are the first
things to notice about this first telling of the resurrection of Jesus: no
angels (a messenger referred to only as a youth in a white robe), no
earthquakes, no heavenly choirs, and particularly no Jesus. All we have, all
the story tells us is the word that Jesus has been raised and has gone back to
Galilee where we will see him.
I
use the pronoun “we” intentionally. One of the major differences between Paul’s
letters to the churches and this telling of the gospel is the way the hearers
interact with the message. Paul, whose writings are the earliest in the New
Testament, are letters to people or churches which most often address specific
situations in the development of the faith. Paul refers to the death and resurrection
of Jesus but never actually tells the story. The gospel of Mark was the first
written source to actually tell the story. And just like the parables, a story
told invites the hearers to participate in the drama. So it is not just the
disciples who are told that they will see Jesus back where the story began. We
are told that WE will meet Jesus on
the way. Or, “on the Way” if you will.
While
some later authors felt that the original ending of Mark’s gospel was
insufficient and added their own endings, Mark’s ending abrupt. The women, the
only people at the tomb, are terrified at what they find: an empty tomb, a
strange young person, and a message that Jesus who died is alive and on the
move. They are so terrified in fact that they run out of the tomb and say
nothing to anyone. This is one of the ways we know we are in the story, too. If
the women said nothing then how does the word spread? It spreads because we are
at the tomb, too.
I
think one of the difficulties in approaching this text is that we know it too
well. We hear it every Easter. We already
know the end of the story. We have tamed and contained it. Nothing here
surprises us, much less terrifies us. Nothing about the resurrection is new to
us. And too often, because we know it too well, it doesn’t change us. The
resurrection of Jesus should open to us the possibility of our own
resurrection, our transformation into a new life. But instead we are content to
allow the resurrection to be something that happened to Jesus a very long time
ago. We have lost the very kernel of reconstructing hope that the resurrection
embodies.
We
also put a lot of emphasis on the empty tomb. The open, empty tomb is indeed a
powerful visual. But I think too often that empty tomb becomes the sole focus
of our Easter attention. We forget that we never see Jesus in the empty tomb.
mark tells us that only place we will see Jesus is back in Galilee, back on the
way, back in the daily life we live.
Marcus
Borg tells us this about the early followers of Christ: “For early Christians
generally, Easter had two primary meanings. Jesus lives—he is a figure of the
present, not simply of the past. And that
Jesus is Lord—one with God, raised to God’s right hand, vindicated by God as
both Lord and Christ, and thus vindicated against the powers that put him to
death.” Jesus is the architect of our reconstructed hope because “in this
person, we see the decisive revelation of God—of God’s character and God’s
passion.” (CWS p. 108)
We
began this journey through Mark back on September 11, in the remembered shadow
of the World Trade Center disaster. That event has rocked our confidence in a
good world, and its consequences have devastated dreams and civil rights alike.
Just as the message of the first gospel was given in an age which needed a new
hope, it is our assertion that Mark still offers us a Way to reconstruct the
hope of our world today. By inviting us on a two-fold path of inward transform
of the heart and spirit along with an outward worldly transformation that fosters
justice, peace, and equality the story of Jesus moves out of history and into our
present reality.
Somehow,
Christians in the 21st continue to experience Jesus as “a figure of
the present” in ways as varied and individual as those who call themselves
Christian. Somehow, the Way of Christ continues to transform lives and the
world. The end of Mark’s gospel directs us back to Galilee, back to the
beginning of the story, and there we will see Christ. But as is true for much
of the gospel, Galilee is a metaphor, a parable. Galilee is for us wherever we
began our journey of transformation. It doesn’t end, it begins again. Mark
wrote the first gospel. The next one is ours to tell and to write.
I
hope that in the Studio we avoid simply doing another Easter celebration. I
think our focus needs to be more of discovering Christ on the way. The Way of
Christ is the way by which we reconstruct ourselves and our world and it is on
that very path that the life-renewing presence and power of Christ will be experienced.
This would be the week to share stories of our lives transformed and reborn.
Sue
reminded me of my own story of new life. A couple of years ago I found myself
gripped by depression. In one of the terms we learned at the Worship Design
Studio, I am a “hanger.” Hangers are big-picture viewers, and
possibility-explorers. We hangers can often see a number of ways of approaching
most situations, even if we have trouble committing to any one of those. My
depression robbed me of my vision. I could not see any possibilities. I could not
see the next step in front of me much less any piece of the big picture.
Thankfully, I was not suicidal but I had no sense of what life tomorrow could
be. And for me, I guess that is a kind of death: having no tomorrow. I did not
experience my recovery from depression as an instant resurrection. It took
counseling, medication, time, and persistence. It was a journey. That journey
led me to a renewed sense of possibility and vision. It allowed me to reconsider
myself, my career, and the choices I could make. There were possibilities available to me in
that newness that were not present in my old, shut-down life. What looked and
felt like an ending to me became a new beginning. I found myself in Galilee again.
I do
not feel particularly called to share this story on Sunday morning. I offer it
here as an example of the kind of stories of resurrection that exist in our
midst.
The
challenge for this Sunday, the culmination of our series, is how to offer people
an experience of resurrection and reconstructed hope.
Anchor: The window through which we see the world as God
does.
Frame: we experience new
life in Jesus by walking the Way in our world
Thread: Let Me Be Your
Servant? Hope reconstructed (in process)
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