Easter Sunday, 2003 Mark 16:1-8 Susan J. Barnes
In the still of that morning so long ago, three women went to the tomb
of their teacher and friend, Jesus.
Devastated by the cruelty, the brutality they had witnessed, shocked by
the injustice of Jesus' crucifixion, dazed, numbed by their loss, they
went to the tomb. Not knowing how they would roll away the stone that
sealed it, they went all the same. They went as an act of faith.
They went to the tomb to honor Jesus in his death--Jesus, who had been
so horribly dishonored in his dying. They went to anoint his body--less
because Jewish law required it than because their hearts did. They had
to tend to their Lord's broken body.
Jesus had honored them like no one ever had. He had treated them with
courtesy, with dignity, with respect, with affection--just as he had the
men. Some of the women he had cured; all of them he had healed. He
healed them of wounds they did not know that they had: the wounds of
disdain, of disrespect, of dehumanization--wounds that were theirs by
the simple fact of being women in their society.
Jesus healed them when he welcomed them in the company of the
disciples. He healed them when he taught them along with the others.
They had long talks in which he revealed the vision he had received from
God, the vision of the Kingdom. For them, being with him, living as
equals in the community of the disciples had proved that the Kingdom
vision could be a living reality.
Honoring, welcoming, and teaching them, Jesus had enabled them to live
as children of God, without fear in the world. So they left their lives
and followed him. Some who had money supported the group financially.
They all defied tradition, disregarded the criticisms of their blood kin
and traveled with the disciples. Joyfully, they joined the new family
that Jesus created--people whose bond was their common faith, their
commitment to do as Jesus did and follow the will of Abba, their
heavenly Father. Jesus sent them out to teach and to heal in God's
name, and they had seen others experience in their ministry the power of
God's reconciling spirit.
It had been a living dream, their life together with Jesus. Now that
dream was broken to bits--shattered in the events of the last four
days. The community of disciples seemed to have dissolved, the men
fled--understandably--in fear for their lives. They did what they had
to do.
The women had done what women do when they are threatened: they came
together for comfort, consolation, and support. Without Jesus, without
the larger community, their self-doubt, their fears had returned. They
clung to one another.
And so that morning, in fear and confusion, but in faith, the women
came together to the tomb. They came--only to be shocked anew. The
stone rolled away, Jesus' body gone, an unknown young man telling them
things that they could not understand, or dared not believe. Jesus
raised from the dead? Jesus--somehow alive again--going on to meet
them and the rest of the disciples in Galilee? Shock upon shock.
Confused even more by what they had seen and heard at the tomb, they
fled in fear and uncertainty.
The gospel of Mark, the first of the four, is the only one to end on
this note of doubt and suspense. That troubled later editors so much
that they added stories of meetings with Jesus after his resurrection to
make it like the other gospels.
But the gospel of Mark was written for a community that knew the story
better than we do today. They were very close to the events
themselves. Some of them could have been at the tomb, or heard
eye-witness accounts from the first generation of apostles. They might
have known St. Paul.
They knew that the risen Christ had appeared to Paul and to the
disciples who had known Jesus in life, first of all to the women. The
risen Christ had come to many of them, too.
Even so, they left the gospel account this way. The amazing news of
Jesus resurrection delivered to the women, but not yet fully received,
not fully understood. The ending of Mark left it open for each listener
to complete then--and it still does now.
There is wisdom in that. Who of us can say what the Resurrection means
for another? Each of us must, each of us will, receive the risen Christ
in our own way, in our own time. It is a life-long process, even for
those who begin with a flash--a dazzling moment of conversion. Though
Jesus' Resurrection was a one-time event in history, we are obliged, and
we are blessed, to experience it in our own lives again and again.
Some of us who have gone intensively through this Holy Week may not be
ready for the Easter celebration. Some may still be back at the foot of
the cross. Others just coming to the empty tomb. Others have heard the
news and want to believe, but are fearful of what it could mean about
God's claim on their life. That's alright. Be at peace, wherever you
are.
The gospel stories we hear in the Easter season show how Christ
appeared differently to different disciples. In the same way today,
Christ will greet each of you, each of us, in our own place and time,
when we can open ourselves to the embrace of the beloved.
Christ's life-giving love is waiting for me and you--in its depth, its
breadth, its fullness--now and forever. Remember and take to heart the
words of the angel at the tomb: "Do not be afraid."
