"shock And Awe"
Children's sermon
Illustration
Preaching
Sermon
Worship
Object:
Dear Preacher,
Easter is one of the most exciting and one of the most difficult times for preaching. How can we say a fresh and timely word about a story already so well known? For the April 20, 2003, installment of The Immediate Word, team member Carlos Wilton answers that challenge with a provocative reading of the lectionary gospel text from Mark 16:1-8. Tapping into language the U.S. military has used in the war with Iraq, Carlos helps us understand how the resurrection of Jesus offers life, hope, and surprise in a world not always ready for those experiences.
As always, there are insightful comments from other team members, many useful and helpful illustrations, creative worship resources, and a children's sermon.
"Shock and Awe"
By Carlos Wilton
Mark 16:1-8
"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."
-- Mark 16:8
The Message On a Postcard
"Shock and awe": those words are all too familiar from news reports out of Iraq. In a very different sense -- and more in keeping with the true meaning of "awe" -- those two words also capture the feelings of the disciples that first Easter morning. So shocking -- and so truly awesome -- is the news of Jesus' resurrection, that the four Gospel writers can't even synchronize their stories: each one has his own, slightly different take on this greatest of all miracles. Mark ends his Easter story so abruptly that later readers can't believe he meant to finish it that way (some of them even wrote their own endings). Mark's cliffhanger ending invites us to stand with the disciples in their shock and awe, then weave the ragged ends of their story into our own.
Remember the movie, Clue, the one based on the popular murder-mystery board game? In a certain number of theaters, the audience was given the opportunity to choose an ending to the story, by voting on an electronic keypad. Other theaters got one of four different versions of the film, each with its own ending. There's also Schubert's "Unfinished Symphony": orchestras have played that beloved piece countless times, always leaving its last note hanging expectantly in the air.
Mark's Gospel is an unfinished symphony. At first it seems that all Jesus' efforts (and God's) have been for naught: for the people are still afraid, even after hearing the good news of resurrection. Yet the truth is, the gospel doesn't end there. It's not that the alternative, appended endings are superior; Mark's Gospel does not end there because the church does not, indeed, cower silently in fear. We go out and become a part of the story.
Some Words On the Word -- Mark 16:1-8
"I can still remember George MacDonald trying to explain this story to our eighth grade Sunday School class. He peered through bifocals to read the denominational curriculum to us, suggesting that (a) maybe the last page of the text got torn off, or (b) a Roman soldier stabbed Mark in mid-sentence, making it impossible to finish his book. It never occurred to him (or anybody else in the educational annex) that maybe it was Mark's intent to write an unfinished book."
That's what a friend of mine, Bill Carter, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania, writes, as he recalls his first encounter with this text as a young boy. So abrupt and jarring does the ending of Mark's resurrection account seem, that it invites all sorts of fanciful explanations (like the torn-page theory and the stuck-in-the-gut-by-a-Roman-sword theory).
"They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid." What kind of ending to a world-changing gospel is that?
Neither interruption theory has much to recommend it. Nor do either of the two alternative endings to Mark's Gospel, appended by someone else at a later date. The alternative Shorter Ending reassures us that, yes, those terrified disciples did come back and tell the story, and that Jesus used them to proclaim the good news throughout the world. The alternative Longer Ending is a sort of Reader's Digest condensation of several of the post-resurrection appearances described in the other Gospels.
A riskier -- and probably more intellectually honest -- course of action is to preach this passage just as we have it, without the fanciful stories of interruptions, and without the alternative endings. To do so is to invite the Easter Sunday crowd to leave the role of spectators and actually enter the story, engaging with it on a more personal level.
Mark's resurrection story, like the others, begins with several women disciples. As soon as the Sabbath is ended (with its proscriptions on not only work, but also ritually-unclean activities like embalming), the women rise early and go to the tomb. Their action appears to be impulsive, at least in part: the women haven't thought through all the logistics, such as who's going to roll away the heavy stone blocking the tomb entrance.
When they get there, it turns out that the stone's the least of their worries. They are "alarmed" to see a young man sitting in the tomb, dressed in white. He assures them that Jesus is not there, "he has been raised" (note the passive voice). He commissions them to go and tell Peter and the others that "he is going ahead of [them] to Galilee." Other words used for the women's fearful response are "terror," "amazement," "afraid" (16:8).
We could just as well call it "shock and awe."
Not so for the mysterious young man. Mark presents him as the picture of calm repose. He's sitting in the tomb (probably a tiny, rock-hewn, cave-like room, with a ceiling so low one could barely stand), apparently waiting for the women to arrive, so he can deliver his message.
Most people, charged with meeting someone at such a grim and claustrophobic place, would choose to wait outside. This messenger, however, seems perfectly at ease in the musty gloom. It has no apparent effect on him. On the contrary, he notices his visitors' discomfort and seeks to reassure them.
(It may be useful to compare and contrast this young messenger to the cured demoniac in Mark 5:1-20. Like the young man in the tomb, the healed demoniac is garbed in new clothing. He's likewise seated, is "in his right mind," and speaks as a witness. Also like the man in white, he dwells among the tombs. Perhaps, at the outset of Jesus' healing ministry, Mark uses the story of the healed demoniac to foreshadow the glorious news that is to come.)
As devastating as the news of their Lord and master's death has been to the women disciples, the ragged, unfinished ending of his story is more disturbing still. A few hours earlier, as the women arose from a fitful sleep, they knew where Jesus was -- or so they thought. Now, in the past few moments, their world has been cracked wide open. "He is not here." How can they possibly put their shattered world back together again, when corpses no longer remain in their tombs, and heavy stones are heaved from their places as though they were nothing at all?
I've heard some wonderful sermons preached on verse 7, "he is going ahead of you to Galilee." That verse makes a wonderful springboard for mission ("See, he's gone ahead, leading the way: you go too!"). Verse 8, though, quickly puts a damper on missionary zeal: "They said nothing." They ran home, climbed into bed, pulled the covers over their head. Some missionaries!
Mark never tells us whether these women ever found their courage -- not, at least, in the original ending of his Gospel. From other witnesses -- the other three Gospels, as well as the Shorter and Longer Endings of Mark -- we know that they did. Yet the indictment verse 8 pronounces upon these wavering witnesses can just as readily be applied to us: do we ever get over our fear, enough to share the good news that we have heard and seen?
William Willimon of Duke University Chapel concludes one of his Easter sermons with these words:
"We have been told that [Jesus] is not here, that he will not stay nailed down, sealed shut, all tied up and secure. He will not be held by death. So if we would follow him -- if we want to be his church -- it will not be to places of deadly certainty. It must be forward, into the future, out into whatever Galilee you must go to on Monday. That's where he is, that's where he will meet you. And that good news is more than a little scary. No wonder the last word in Mark's Gospel, and in the story of the first Easter, is fear."
A Map of the Message
It's Easter again. Time to revisit those old, familiar texts. The most familiar, of course, is John's version of the resurrection. It comes up every year in the lectionary: it's the old standby. John's Easter story is what "C&E people" and regular pew-sitters alike expect to hear on the great festival day. John's Gospel -- or some harmonization built upon John's account as the primary foundation -- is the preacher's path of least resistance.
But let's confound them this year. Let's look at Mark's version, instead.
No tender encounter in the garden here, "when the dew is still on the roses." Mark delivers a starkly empty tomb ... a mysterious heavenly intruder ... fear ... awe ... dismay ... uncertainty. Not exactly what most folks in their newly purchased spring outfits have come to hear -- although, since it's an experience of fear, it's probably closer to their everyday lives all the same.
Preacher and professor of homiletics Fred Craddock says somewhere that a true understanding of Easter begins from a respectful distance. You must start, he says, with awe.
Awe is precisely what Mark gives us. It's not the sort of awe spoken of by teenagers a few years back, who were fond of describing the latest music video as "awesome." Nor is it the sort of awe Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld promised the Iraqi Republican Guard would feel, as coalition bombers dropped their deadly cargo on their heads. ("Shock" was surely part of their reaction, but awe less so -- for "awe" implies also a fascination and respect bordering on worship.)
Awe is not simply fear. There's an element of fear present in it, to be sure, but awe is more than that. Awe is the reaction of the spiritually chastened: of people who have encountered not only the powerful, but the divinely powerful. This divine power has so disrupted and disordered their world that their only option is to flee from it for a time: to regroup, to re-orient. "Woe is me," wails Isaiah in the Temple, after receiving his vision of God: "I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips ..." (Isaiah 6:5). Such is the reaction of the women in Mark's Gospel who flee the empty tomb.
You don't get to that sort of place by merely being a spectator, by watching in a disinterested fashion from afar. Awe comes only when the holy has drawn near, and not only somewhat near: when it's come too close for comfort. ("Remove the sandals from your feet," the Lord says to Moses, "for the place on which you are standing is holy ground" --Exodus 6:5.)
Life's true "shock and awe" experiences -- and I'm not sure the bombing of Iraq qualifies for that description, for reasons I've described above -- demand a response. One can only remain a disinterested observer for so long: once awe comes onto the scene, the only possible responses are flight or obedience (as Jonah learned, to his dismay).
Mark's Gospel, with its ragged ending, evokes that kind of response in those who seek to place themselves in it. In that sense, it's an interactive story. Interactivity is the guiding principle behind all computer games. In such games, the player impacts the story line: by punching the keyboard, or by wiggling the joystick or mouse. Each game session is, by definition, different from the last. Each one is affected by how the player responds.
The raw, unfinished nature of Mark's story demands a response from us, the readers. The scribes who came along later and amended it were, perhaps unconsciously, answering Mark's implicit demand for a response.
The opera-writer, Puccini, died suddenly before he had a chance to finish his opera, Turandot. One of his fellow-composers, Franco Alfano, wrote two final scenes that completed the story. When the opera premiered in 1926 at Milan's famed La Scala opera house, Arturo Toscanini was the conductor.
When Toscanini reached the place where Puccini had left off, he stopped the performance. With tears in his eyes, he turned to the audience and announced, "This is where the master ends." Then he raised his baton once again and declared, "This is where his friends continue." Then he concluded the performance.
How like Mark's account of the resurrection that is! God has done a mighty work in raising Jesus from the dead: so mighty that our lives are profoundly disoriented by it. There are two possible responses to this experience: to continue in fear, or to step forward in faith. Mark's interactive Easter story leaves the choice up to us.
The Scottish theologian Alan Lewis was teaching at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary when he was diagnosed with cancer. He died in 1994 at the age of 50, after a protracted battle with the disease.
It so happened that, at the time of his diagnosis, Lewis was working on a book about what he called "the theology of Holy Saturday." That transitional day between Good Friday and Easter, between cross and resurrection, between death and new life, has been much-neglected by the church. When do we ever preach or teach those texts? Only rarely. Most of us proceed directly from cross to resurrection. If any of us preachers think of Holy Saturday at all, it's most likely as a blessed interval of quietude and rest, between the blood of the cross and the lilies of Easter.
The spare and abrupt ending of Mark's Gospel -- belonging more to the pre-dawn half-light than to the full sun of morning -- has perhaps more affinities with the fear and confusion of Holy Saturday than with the alleluias of Easter. Alan Lewis' theological study of the Holy Saturday texts is therefore worth looking at, as a way of addressing the state of mind of the grieving women.
Lewis warns us preachers not to try to soft-pedal the harsh and shocking aspects of the Easter story. Its message, he says, is not so much "all is well" as "Jesus is Lord":
"Perhaps the greatest threat to the gospel story, that the Jesus whom Jerusalem murdered God raised from the dead, is the well-intentioned effort of preachers and theologians to make these scandalous, mysterious happenings comprehensible by suggesting that they mirror the familiar. In particular, illuminating analogies are frequently adduced from the phenomenon of the cyclic: the rhythms of sleep and waking, death and birth, which we experience night and morning and observe through all of nature's seasons, as well as in our own passages from infancy to parenthood to death. Above all, the Easter victory over death is domesticated as the supreme instance of a generic immortality -- the inherent capacity of human beings, or more usually of the human soul or spirit, to survive the grave and achieve eternal unity with our transcendent source. All these attempts to treat the events of Good Friday and Easter Day as particularizing a familiar universal, either anthropological or cosmological, disregard the very narrative which presents them as history -- as new, unique happenings, involving a particular, unsubstitutable person at an unrepeatable point in time and space."1
As Lewis underwent chemotherapy and other harsh treatment regimens, he put his book project aside for a long time. When the doctors informed him they'd failed to halt the disease's progress and his days were numbered, he took up his project again -- but from a very different perspective. The latter part of his book is a highly personal reflection on Holy Saturday, from the perspective of a dying man.
Lewis bluntly reminds us that Christ does not survive death (otherwise, how could it truly have been death?). Christ moved not away from death, and not around it, but through death to new life:
"And yet, and yet: the Christian good news of victory over death is not about survival. The very function of Easter Saturday is to prevent the rubbing out of Friday and its grievous memories by the instant and overwhelming exuberance of Sunday. Easter Saturday says that Jesus was gone and finished, subjected to death's power for a season. So Christ himself did not -- despite centuries of popular theological and homiletical deceit -- survive the grave! He succumbed to death and was swallowed by the grave -- his Sabbath rest in the sepulcher a dramatized insistence that his termination was realistic and complete, a proper subject of grief and valediction.... God's victory over death, as the Christian gospel tells it, is not a matter of smooth, ensured survival but a new existence after nonsurvival -- a quite different reality, for us as well as God.
Resurrection hope is not for easy, kind release, that happy, beautiful transition to 'a better place' so often triumphalistically and dishonestly proclaimed in some church quarters, even in circumstances of horrible, catastrophic, or untimely death. The song of victory is sometimes only to be chokingly managed in the midst of tears and anger, and may certainly never drown out or replace the sounds of honest grief. No more is resurrection the equivalent of inherent immortality. Our hope is for that 'eschatological surplus' after the fact and finality of our extinction, for new possibilities supervening upon discontinuity, a free gift from outside us and beyond us -- a share, that is, in God's own triune life." 2
The story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the greatest -- but also the most profoundly disorienting -- news the world has ever heard. In the words of the early church leader John Chrysostom, from an ancient sermon that's read each year on Easter in many eastern Orthodox churches even now:
Let all partake of the Feast of Faith,
Let all receive the riches of goodness.
Let none lament their poverty,
for the Universal Kingdom has been revealed.
Let none mourn their transgressions,
for Pardon has dawned from the Tomb!
Let no one fear Death,
for the Savior's death has set us free!
He that was taken by Death has annihilated it.
He descended into Hell, and took Hell captive! ...
"O Death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory?"
Christ is risen, and you are overthrown!
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen!
Christ is risen, and the Angels rejoice!
Christ is risen, and Life reigns!
Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the tombs!
For Christ being raised from the dead,
has become the first-fruits of them that slept.
To him be glory and dominion through all the ages of ages!
Notes
1 Between Cross and Resurrection: A Theology of Holy Saturday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 59-60.
2 Lewis, p. 428
Team Comments
George Murphy responds: Your approach is good, offering possibilities for Easter preaching which brings out some of the sense of "fear and trembling" that must have accompanied the first Easter. Of course one doesn't want to avoid the sense of joy too, but that shouldn't be presented as simply a superficial emotion. A few further comments:
The problem of the ending of Mark has been discussed extensively, and D.E. Nineham, The Gospel of Saint Mark (Penguin, 1963), provides a good brief discussion (pp.439-453). He states that "the final words of v. 8, which are strange enough in English, are even more difficult in the Greek" (p. 440).
It's perhaps worth noting that while the "longer ending" (vv.9-20) is certainly by a different and later author and thus not by "Mark," they have been considered part of the canonical Gospel of Mark by the church.
It's often been pointed out that in Mark all the male disciples of Jesus run away when he's arrested, and that only the women who followed him saw the crucifixion (15:40-41). Now the women run away too and are silent -- but because of the awesomeness of the resurrection news, not because they're afraid of persecution.
The way we -- i.e., the readers and hearers of the gospel -- are drawn into the story by the ending is very important. We're told that Jesus is going to appear to some of his disciples (v. 7). He does not, however, appear to us in that way. Christ encounters us in the same way that he encountered the women at the tomb -- in the word that he has been raised. Statements like "Jesus has been raised into the kerygma" don't exhaust the meaning of the Resurrection, but they do express an essential aspect of it. In the proclamation of the gospel and the sacraments (as "visible words"), empowered by "the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead," Christ comes to people today. This should be both an encouraging and a humbling reminder to preachers who are called to the task of proclamation.
James L. Evans responds: Mark's abrupt ending (Mark 16:8) is even more abrupt and startling when looked at in Greek, as George Murphy notes. The sentence actually ends with a conjunction -- "gar," translated "for." For a long time scholars have presumed that this dangling conjunction was evidence of an incomplete manuscript, either unfinished by Mark for some reason, or the original ending lost through some mishap. The basis for this conclusion, of course, was the absence of dangling conjunctions in comparative Greek literature.
However, James Blevins, a retired New Testament professor from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, pointed out in a lecture once that our knowledge of Greek grammar is limited to the number of documents that had actually been studied and compared. There are, he noted thousands upon thousands of manuscripts and pieces of manuscripts that have not been examined. The advent of the computer, he went on to say, has made it possible to catalog some of these previously unexamined writings and do some basic comparisons fairly quickly.
One of the findings of this computer analysis was the discovery that ending sentences with "gar' was not that uncommon. This discovery raises the distinct possibility that Mark deliberately ended his work with an open-ended sense of high expectation.
What if the abrupt ending is Mark's intention? What are we to do with that? Carlos is right when he asserts that reading the ending as is allows us "to invite the Easter-Sunday crowd to leave the role of spectators and actually enter the story, engaging it on a more personal level." In other words a deliberately open-ended ending is an invitation to write our own ending by including our own experience with the risen Christ.
Carter Shelly responds: I really like the way you take the current coinage of our military strategy in Iraq and move from it to something deeper, less comprehensible and more worthy of awe: the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the effect it had upon the initial witnesses as well as centuries of others along the way. The layers of meaning for awe build throughout this sermon in a profound way.
I also appreciate your using the differences of the four Gospel accounts to emphasize more fully the uniqueness of Mark's account in all its brevity and power. I think it's significant that the messengers God sends in both Old and New Testament contexts are there to deliver word of God's action. These messengers do not resemble the postcard and trinket angels popular in the last few years as the personal guardian of individual human beings. If Islam's primary declaration is "There is no God but Allah," the orthodox Jew or Christian (as opposed to the New Age enthusiast) might well declare: "There is no guardian but God and Yahweh is God's name."
The fact that the women head for home without sharing the news makes perfect sense to me. Several things may have been at work there. When someone wins an unexpected award, gets a job they hadn't thought they would, or receives some sort of special attention in the local newspaper, who doesn't want to savor the moment? Make it last, take it home and cherish it, relive it, and ponder what it means? Perhaps that's what the women did. How could anyone grasp the shock and awe, the importance in an instant? Surely, the women needed that time to take it all in. They needed time to pray, confer, and ponder what they'd encountered, before they headed out to share their experience with others.
In the section she wrote on Mark for The Women's Bible Commentary, Dr. Mary Ann Tolbert makes the following observation about the women who come to the tomb:
Although the author says that these women have been followers of Jesus and ministers to him from his days in Galilee, the reference in 15:40 is the first time in the entire Gospel this large a group of female followers has been mentioned. While it is strange that such constant and faithful followers of Jesus should be omitted from earlier episodes, it comes as a hopeful sign to know that some of Jesus' followers have remained true to him, especially since the twelve male disciples have proved to be such thoroughly rocky ground ... Even though the women keep their distance from the public sites of the crucifixion and burial, as proper women should, they are at least present, demonstrating by that fact alone their superiority to the male disciples. Such faithful constancy from women should come as no surprise to the audience of the Gospel, given the positive way women have generally been portrayed throughout the narrative (p. 273).
Tolbert also points out that women purchasing spices do so to take care of a corpse. Thus, the women's expectations of what they will encounter are exactly in keeping with what they have experienced up to this point. They do not have special insight or foresight to prepare them for the messenger or the empty tomb. Nevertheless, the fact that these women have been Jesus' followers throughout his ministry suggests they would have heard his words about rising from the dead in Mark 8:31, 8:31, and 10:33-34. Whether they had any inkling of hope is not stated by Mark. Tolbert goes on to comment on the women's failure to do as the messenger commands. Instead, they are frightened and do not tell Peter or the others, who themselves equally have been frightened by the events of the past week. Consequently, what's needed are "followers who are willing to act outside the constraints of society, religiously and socially." Tolbert sees this conclusion to Mark as a challenge to the reader of his Gospel. While those who knew Jesus initially failed him, the reader receives the opportunity to act more boldly. "The expectations raised and then crushed by the end of the Gospel are intended to move the hearers of the Gospel to action ... At the end and indeed by means of the end itself, the audience of the Gospel of Mark, both women and men, are challenged to become themselves faithful disciples, carrying the message to the world ... " (p. 274).
Finally, Carlos, I greatly appreciate the point you make about death being real and often ugly and your attention to the "theological and homiletical deceit" that Jesus somehow was spared the ugly bits of dying, death, and grave. Since most of us do prefer Easter Day to Good Friday or Holy Saturday, it's tempting to gloss over it for Jesus himself.
A subscriber responds: Thanks very much to Carlos Wilton for "Shock and Awe."
Here is another thought about the Markan ending. Mark's congregation appears to have known persecution (Mark10:32 - "with persecutions"). Mark proclaims the resurrection (16:6), but given a persecuted people, it does not mean that now all is well for them and the women are not immediately ready to tell the good news (as in the other Gospels).
This may tie into Jesus' one and only word from the Cross in Mark (followed by Matthew). "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." Mark's congregation may have cried out with similar words in their suffering; and for them to hear Jesus' word from the cross through Mark, lets them know that he understands and is with them in their despair. I imagine that many in Iraq have cried out with such words of despair too, perhaps even some of our military personnel.
With no resurrection appearances in Mark (16:9-20 is clearly a later addition), he will go before them into Galilee, the place of Jesus' ministry; and as they enter into his ministry of liberating compassion, there they will "see him" (16:7). They will know the power of his risen presence as they share in his ministry. Jesus' resurrection is not something only for personal enjoyment. It is for empowering our ministry in his name. And every Sunday, worship is to celebrate and equip us with the power of the resurrection for the living of these days.
--Paul Hammer
Illustrations
(Perhaps the musicians among us will especially appreciate this humorous piece that's long been circulating on the Internet. It purports to have been written by an efficiency expert who's seeking to smooth out the rough ending of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony -- much as those who added to Mark's Gospel sought to do with his work. . .)
A company chairman was given a ticket for a performance of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony. Since he was unable to go, he passed the invitation to the company's Quality Assurance Manager. The next morning, the chairman asked him how he enjoyed it, and instead of a few plausible observations, he was handed a memorandum that read as follows:
1. For a considerable period, the oboe players had nothing to do. Their number should be reduced, and their work spread over the whole orchestra, thus avoiding peaks of inactivity.
2. All twelve violins were playing identical notes. This seems unnecessary duplication, and the staff of this section should be drastically cut. If a large volume of sound is really required, this could be obtained through the use of an amplifier.
3. Much effort was involved in playing the demi--semiquavers. This seems an excessive refinement, and it is recommended that all notes should be rounded up to the nearest semiquaver. If this were done, it would be possible to use trainees instead of craftsman.
4. No useful purpose is served by repeating with horns the passage that has already been handled by the strings. If all such redundant passages were eliminated, the concert could be reduced from two hours to twenty minutes.
In light of the above, one can only conclude that had Schubert given attention to these matters, he probably would have had the time to finish his symphony.
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Is this any way to run a resurrection? Is this enough to persuade, to stir new life in the followers of Jesus? First, let it be said that none of the Gospels provides an unambiguous, totally convincing account. Matthew says the disciples worshiped Jesus but some doubted; Luke says that in their joy they were disbelieving; and John says one of the Twelve refused to believe until he touched and felt. Faith is not coerced, even on Easter. In the New Testament, faith is response to divine revelation, and Mark provides that from the mouth of the young man in the tomb.
Second, Mark did not need an appearance of the risen Christ to affirm his faith in the resurrection. Faith can be expressed by adding an appearance after death and burial or it can be expressed by remembrance of Jesus' repeated promise of a resurrection. Mark chose the latter. Descending the Mount of Transfiguration, he told Peter, James, and John not to speak of their experience until after the resurrection; each of the three predictions of the passion included a prediction of resurrection; and on the way to Gethsemane, Jesus said, "But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee." At the tomb the angel said to tell his disciples and Peter that he would meet them in Galilee, "just as he told you." The recollection of the words of Jesus is the stuff of faith.
Third, the question of why Mark, who obviously believed in the resurrection, included no appearance of the risen Christ is a natural one raised by the text itself. We can only speculate, but a reasonable answer may lie in Mark's accent on the cross. He has told the story of Jesus from baptism to crucifixion. The journey to Jerusalem was a journey to the cross, and all who would follow him must take up the cross. Perhaps for Mark, ending the story with a glorious resurrection would have reduced the cross to a stop on the way to resurrection and have turned the tomb cave into a tunnel with light shining through. Perhaps.
Fourth, even Mark's brief Easter account is full of Good News. To disciples who had abandoned him and to Peter who denied him, Jesus' word was, "I will meet you in Galilee. There we began together; there we will begin anew."
And finally, of the women, afraid and silent: what can be said? When such persons find their voices, what powerful witnesses! No glib and easy Easter words here. They had been to the cemetery.
-- Fred Craddock, "He Is Not Here," in Christian Century, April 5, 2003, p. 21.
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Hwin the mare, meeting Aslan the lion, in C. S. Lewis' novel from his Chronicles of Narnia series, The Horse and his Boy:
"Please," she said, "You're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else."
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Eugene Peterson, in his book on King David, said every church worthy of the name should be required by law to post a sign warning "Beware the God."
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Reverence -- a term that's all but dropped out of the popular discourse -- is closely related to awe.
Reverence is an ancient virtue that survives among us in half-forgotten patterns of civility, in moments of inarticulate awe, and in nostalgia for the lost ways of traditional cultures. We have the word "reverence" in our language, but we scarcely know how to use it. Right now it has no place in secular discussions of ethics or political theory. Even more surprising, reverence is missing from modern discussions of the ancient cultures that prized it.
Reverence begins in a deep understanding of human limitations; from this grows the capacity to be in awe of whatever we believe lies outside our control - God, truth, justice, nature, even death. The capacity for awe, as it grows, brings with it the capacity for respecting fellow human beings, flaws and all. This in turn fosters the ability to be ashamed when we show moral flaws exceeding the normal human allotment. The Greeks before Plato saw reverence as one of the bulwarks of society, and the immediate followers of Confucius in China thought much the same. Both groups wanted to see reverence in their leaders, because reverence is the virtue that keeps leaders from trying to take tight control of other people's lives. Simply put, reverence is the virtue that keeps human beings from trying to act like gods.
From Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue by Paul Woodruff,
http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/excerpts/bookreview/excp_5502.html
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In contrast to the stark and spare ending of Mark's Gospel, the apocryphal Gospel of Peter delivers an account of the resurrection that's anything but low-key. These words do not, of course, belong to the canon; yet they're interesting, all the same, in their attempt to answer some readers' desire for an Easter story more spectacular than the empty tomb...
But in the night in which the Lord's Day dawned, when the soldiers were safeguarding [it] two by two in every watch, there was a loud voice in heaven; and they saw that the heavens were opened and that two males who had much radiance had come down from there and come near the sepulcher. But that stone which had been thrust against the door, having rolled by itself, went a distance off to the side; and the sepulcher opened, and both the young men entered. And so those soldiers, having seen, awakened the centurion and the elders (for they too were present, safeguarding). And while they were relating what they had seen, again they see three males who have come out from the sepulcher, with the two supporting the other one, and a cross following them, and the head of the two reaching unto heaven, but that of the one being led out by hand by them going beyond the heavens. And they were hearing a voice from the heavens saying, "Have you made proclamation to the fallen-asleep?" And an obeisance was heard from the cross, "Yes."
-- Gospel of Peter 9:35-42; quoted by Raymond Brown in The Death of the Messiah.
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A pastor was telling me that he spent last Easter at the glorious Easter Service at the Cathedral of St. John Divine in New York City. As is their custom, the service begins with the bishop outside the door, rapping on the front door. The door is then to be swung open, and the glorious Easter processional begins. This past year, the bishop was wearing a wireless microphone. Before he rapped on the door announcing, "Christ is risen," the microphone was turned on so all of the worshipers heard the bishop say, "This is awkward." The pastor and I agreed that is an understatement. Easter is, in a word, awkward. Life, coming into death, at any time of the year, anywhere is awkward.
-- William Willimon in Pulpit Resource, Vol 27, #1 year A, p.50.
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The great 17th century British poet John Milton wrote a poem on the birth of Jesus called "Ode upon the Morning of Christ's Nativity." Afterwards, he attempted to write a companion poem on the death of Jesus, but finally gave up. His collected works include the unfinished fragment, but underneath it he scrawled these words: "This subject the author finding to be above the years he had when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished."
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The great Easter truth is not that we are to live newly after death -- that is not the great thing -- but that we are to live here and now by the power of the resurrection; not so much that we are to live forever as that we are to, and may, live nobly now because we are to live forever.
-- Phillips Brooks
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For myself, as I approach my end, I find Jesus' outrageous claim ever more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night as the old do, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.
I see my ancient carcass, prone between the sheets, stained and worn like a scrap of paper dropped in the gutter and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis stage and ready to fly away. Are caterpillars told of their impending resurrection? How in dying they will be transformed from poor earth-crawlers into creatures of the air, with exquisitely painted wings? If told, do they believe it? I imagine the wise old caterpillars shaking their heads -- no, it can't be; it's a fantasy.
Yet in the limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one single streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: I am the resurrection, and the life, and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.
-- Malcom Muggeridge
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It's not his absence from an empty grave that convinces us. It's his presence in our empty lives.
-- Frederick Buechner
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Resurrection is the ultimate declaration of God's grace. It is not natural. It is not automatic. It is wholly dependent upon the faithfulness, forbearance, and love of God. And just for that reason I am able to sleep at night.
-- Douglas John Hall
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The following is by Anne Lamott, author of the bestselling Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. As with that earlier book of hers, these comments refer to the author's personal discovery of Christianity as a source of healing from addiction, and include some language that is at once both rough and passionate ...
People who think we Christians are idiots or delusional for our beliefs get hung up on the Good Friday part -- the part where Jesus is suffering, everyone is bad, God is mad. I try not to bog down in it, though, and not because of what Lenny Bruce said, that if Christ had been killed in the modern era, we Christians would be wearing electric-chair charms on chains around our necks. It's because I got sober, against all odds, and then I started hanging out with people who were trying to get sober too, and over time I got to watch a number of the walking dead come back to life -- as I came back to life. So I believe in the basic Christian message: that life happens, death happens and then new life happens. I believe in resurrection. So sue me. Or go read something else.
Veronica, our pastor, said the other day that Jesus' promise was not that he was going to try and patch up our old raggedy-assed lives, but that he wanted to give us new life. Now, this is not what I would do, personally, if I were anyone's savior. I would at least try spackle, caulking, dry cleaning fluid. Maybe some nice new furnishings to hide the bare spots in the rug, the water-stained walls; some chemicals to kill off the dust-mite ashrams in the old sofa. But Jesus says, as Veronica put it, you can't get to the good stuff without killing off the old stuff. And death and dying, hanging out with the dying and grieving the dead, and grieving the losses along the way, is where this process most often happens....
I think it is a terrible system. I think they should let you have your true authentic healed whole self and the cool car. I think you should get to have an awareness of the eternal now and the buns of steel. But as a species, we're pumped full of the longing for more....
Being at the end of your rope is usually what it takes to convince your ego -- your little armed Brinks guard -- to say, "Hey! We can throw all this s**t off the side of the boat! We'll be fine." And nothing in you is going to believe this for a second, which is why it can be a gift to be in crisis. The stuff gets thrown overboard, and you come to with that having happened. You come to. This is the Easter message, that awakening is possible, to the goodness of God, the sacredness of human life, the sisterhood and brotherhood of all.
So in this fickle spring weather, when it feels like life is trying out all of its muscles, with the cold winds, the feverish blossomings, maybe you'll find that it wakes us up to exhilaration and discomfort, makes us more aware than usual that we're alive; that grace abounds and that we can cooperate with that.
-- Anne Lamott, "Breaking the Surface," in the Salon e-zine, April 1, 1999
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Mary,
You stand there as though your
own son had died.
You look so listless,
so sad,
as though all the life had gone out of you
as well as out of him.
You couldn't prevent it,
you know.
He knew too much,
He said too much.
It had to end as it did,
on a cross
in a tomb
stone cold dead
finished
gone
kaput.
Why stand you there waiting,
Mary Magdalene?
What do you wait for?
Don't you know
it's over?
"It's never over," she replied.
You should know that by now,
the suffering
the hurting
the hating
the emptiness
the void --
They never go away entirely.
I miss him.
It's only been three days but
I miss him.
God! How I miss him.
He never treated me like
just a woman.
I was a person to him
a full person
with promise
and beauty
and great potential.
They killed him for that
for not making distinctions
between us and them
between the good and the bad.
Somebody always has to be
better in our world.
Someone always has to be excluded
from our life.
He excluded no one.
He treated all the same,
loved all equally -- fully.
They killed him for that,
for overwhelming love.
I wish I had died with him.
I don't want to live in
this world anymore.
It's ugly
It's barren
It's full of selfishness, hate,
and greed.
It was no place for him
yet without him
it's no place for any of us.
And then a voice said to her,
"Mary?"
And it was as though the heavens had
opened
and poured out the sunshine
of a thousand spring days.
As though all which had been
desolation and despair
was lost in the wonder
of God's amazing act.
As though he who was so precious,
so loved and loving
was again with her ...
As,
in fact,
He is.
(This poem was inspired by Jesus' encounter with Mary Magdalene in John's resurrection account, it might find a place as a meditation or liturgical offering for Easter. I have used it with two voices, one is Mary Magdalene's and the other comes from either a narrator or "the gardener" depending on how one chooses to interpret it. It's probably obvious from the language, but I wrote it soon after I began reading books written by Frederick Buechner.)
-- Carter Shelley
Worship Resources
By Chuck Cammarata
CALL TO WORSHIP
LEADER: They say Jesus has risen from the dead!
PEOPLE: I DON'T BELIEVE IT.
LEADER: Neither do I.
PEOPLE: I MEAN, WHEN YOU DIE, THAT'S IT, ISN'T IT?
LEADER: I've always thought so.
PEOPLE: BUT THE TOMB WAS EMPTY.
LEADER: And dead people don't just get up and walk away.
PEOPLE: AND SOME PEOPLE WE KNOW SAY THEY HAVE SEEN HIM,
LEADER: Even touched him.
PEOPLE: IS IT POSSIBLE?
LEADER: Could it really be true?
PEOPLE: NO, THAT'S CRAZY. OR IS IT?
LEADER: After all, he wasn't like other men.
PEOPLE: GOD WAS WITH HIM IN A SPECIAL WAY.
LEADER: And all things are possible with God.
PEOPLE: SO MAYBE, JUST MAYBE ...
(Go quickly into an opening hymn celebrating the resurrection.)
CREATIVE CALL TO WORSHIP
A MINI DRAMA: The Women At the Tomb
The song "The Easter Song" by Keith Green can be found both in some compilations of contemporary Christian music and in at least one hymnal -- The Hymnal for Worship and Celebration published by WORD. This little drama is based on the song.
As a soloist sings the song a cappella -- three women enter and approach a tomb where they make an announcement beginning the service:
(Ring chimes or church bell if available as the soloist begins the song.)
Soloist: Hear the bells ringing their singing that you can be born again.
(At this point three women dressed in period robes enter down the center aisle.)
Soloist: Hear the bells ringing their singing, "Christ is risen from the dead."
(The women make their way to the front of the sanctuary where they take up their places on the right side near a doorway that has been covered with paper and made to look like a tomb entrance. A tall ladder stands beside this tomb. Sitting atop the ladder is a young man dressed as an angel.)
Soloist: The angel up on the tombstone said, "He is risen just as he said. Quickly now go tell the disciples that Jesus Christ is no longer dead. Joy to the world, He is risen, alleluia! He is risen, alleluia! He is risen, alleluia! Alleluia!
(During this time the women fall to their knees, faces to the ground. The church bells begin ringing again as the angel finishes the announcement -- descends the ladder and leaves the stage.)
Soloist: Hear the bells ringing their singing that you can be born again. Hear the bells ringing their singing -- Christ is risen from the dead!
(Here the soloist fades out. The bells continue ringing for a moment. Then they stop. The women now stand and excitedly speak to each other.)
Woman #1: He is alive. He is alive.
Woman #2: I knew he wouldn't leave us.
Woman #3: (Pulling the sleeve of the others back down the center aisle) Come on we must go tell the others. Everyone needs to know. (As they go back down the center aisle, they stop and speak loudly to several people.) "He is risen. Christ the Lord is risen today!"
(At this point the organist begins the intro to the hymn "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," and the congregation begins singing.)
HYMNS
Christ the Lord Is Risen Today
Up from the Grave He Arose
He Rose Triumphantly
The Easter Song
Jesus Christ Is Risen Today
PRAYER OF CONFESSION AND ASSURANCE OF PARDON
LEADER: All about us the world is exploding to life,
PEOPLE: SOOTHING SUNSHINE,
LEADER: Refreshing rainfall,
PEOPLE: TANTALIZING TULIP,
LEADER: Beautiful bird song.
PEOPLE: AND WE MISS IT.
LEADER: Too blind, or too busy.
PEOPLE: WE MISS IT.
LEADER: The baby is beginning to walk,
PEOPLE: WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?
LEADER: Grandma and Grandpa are here to visit,
PEOPLE: WE HAVE TOO MUCH WORK TO DO.
LEADER: The sunset was glorious tonight.
PEOPLE: WHAT SUNSET?
LEADER: Snuggling with the kids,
PEOPLE: A BARBECUE WITH FRIENDS,
LEADER: Dancing with the one you love,
PEOPLE: LAUGHING WITH THE KIDS,
LEADER: Life! God's gift! It's everywhere!
PEOPLE: AND WE MISS IT.
LEADER: But, the message of Easter is that life is always available.
PEOPLE: FULL, ABUNDANT, EVERLASTING LIFE!
LEADER: All we have to do is open our hearts to Him
PEOPLE: AND HE WILL OPEN OUR EYES TO SEE.
LEADER: Amen!
OTHER MUSICAL SUGGESTIONS
The beautiful song, I Can Only Imagine by the group mercyme is perfect for Easter. It is from the CD Almost There. Accompaniment tapes are available from bookstores and at the website www.CBD.com. The chorus to this song is:
Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you, Jesus, or in awe of you be still?
Will I stand in your presence, or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujahs, Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine ...
The hymn Lord of the Dance also called I Danced in the Morning is a great celebration hymn. Super for closing an Easter service. It can be found in several hymnals and The Tune Book by Yo Anderson.
I Looked Up also in the Tune Book is excellent as well.
Also the traditional folk song, Am the Resurrection and the Life in the Tune Book is good.
PARISH PRAYER
Risen Redeemer, you are life to us, for in you the last enemy, death, is defeated. Fill our hearts this day with the joy of your victory. Open us to the possibilities of living into this victory both in this life and the next, and help us to bear witness to this victory in our lives and words. Minister your victory now to those in deep need. We pray for ...
Those to whom sickness has come ...
Those who have been stricken by a loss ...
Those who are oppressed by difficulties in life ...
Those in despair over brokenness in a relationship ...
Those grieved by the depth of their sin ...
Those who are hungry ...
Those suffering injustice ...
Those living in the maelstrom of the Middle East ...
Our troops ...
Our Iraqi brothers and sisters ...
Our leaders.
Be the resurrection and the life to each of these this day. Amen.
Children's Sermon
By Wesley Runk
Mark 16:1-8
Text: When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. (v. 4)
Object: Interview the children, asking each one of them to finish the story.
Happy Easter, boys and girls! What a beautiful day this is today. I want to tell you part of a story and I would like for you to finish it. Our lesson for today comes from the Gospel of Mark. However, I am going to start back a couple of days. I am sure all of you have heard most of it.
On Friday, Jesus was crucified. He hung on a cross for three hours and died. A couple of disciples by the names of Nicodemus and Joseph took the body of Jesus and put it in a tomb that was owned by Joseph. It was late on Friday and they only had time to wrap him in some white cloth and cover his face with a white napkin. When they came out of the tomb, which was carved out of a big rock in the side of a hill, they had the big stone that closed off the tomb rolled into place. Then they left the tomb.
Pilate, at the request of some Jewish leaders, placed soldiers to guard the tomb because they were afraid that other disciples might take away the body. That is what happened on Friday. Saturday was the Jewish Sabbath and no one came to the tomb. The only people there at the tomb were the soldiers who remained on guard.
On Sunday morning three women got up very early to go to the tomb and take care of the rituals of the burial of Jesus that they did not have time to do on Friday. Their names were Mary Magdalene, another Mary whose son was James, and Salome. While they rushed to the tomb, they wondered out loud who was going to move the heavy stone that guarded the tomb. But when they got there, the stone was rolled away. They looked in the tomb and they saw a young man sitting on the place where Jesus had been. The three women were shocked. The young man said, "Do not be alarmed, I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is risen, so he is not here, but go and tell the disciples that he will meet them in Galilee as he promised." The three women were so frightened that they ran as fast at they could away from the tomb.
That's all that the writer Mark wrote for the Bible. So I want to ask each one of you to tell me what you think happened to Jesus. Here are some of the questions I want to ask you.
1. How did Jesus get out of the tomb with soldiers guarding it and a stone covering the entrance?
2. Who was the young man sitting there and waiting for them?
3. Why were the women afraid and why did they run away?
4. Why did Jesus tell the young man that his disciples should meet him in Galilee?
(Begin your interviews and let the children put their end on the story. Use a microphone so that the rest of the congregation can hear them speak first hand. You may have to repeat what they have said. Try not to let it get too humorous or the children will not be eager to give their honest opinions.)
The Immediate Word, April 20, 2003, issue.
Copyright 2003 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
Easter is one of the most exciting and one of the most difficult times for preaching. How can we say a fresh and timely word about a story already so well known? For the April 20, 2003, installment of The Immediate Word, team member Carlos Wilton answers that challenge with a provocative reading of the lectionary gospel text from Mark 16:1-8. Tapping into language the U.S. military has used in the war with Iraq, Carlos helps us understand how the resurrection of Jesus offers life, hope, and surprise in a world not always ready for those experiences.
As always, there are insightful comments from other team members, many useful and helpful illustrations, creative worship resources, and a children's sermon.
"Shock and Awe"
By Carlos Wilton
Mark 16:1-8
"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."
-- Mark 16:8
The Message On a Postcard
"Shock and awe": those words are all too familiar from news reports out of Iraq. In a very different sense -- and more in keeping with the true meaning of "awe" -- those two words also capture the feelings of the disciples that first Easter morning. So shocking -- and so truly awesome -- is the news of Jesus' resurrection, that the four Gospel writers can't even synchronize their stories: each one has his own, slightly different take on this greatest of all miracles. Mark ends his Easter story so abruptly that later readers can't believe he meant to finish it that way (some of them even wrote their own endings). Mark's cliffhanger ending invites us to stand with the disciples in their shock and awe, then weave the ragged ends of their story into our own.
Remember the movie, Clue, the one based on the popular murder-mystery board game? In a certain number of theaters, the audience was given the opportunity to choose an ending to the story, by voting on an electronic keypad. Other theaters got one of four different versions of the film, each with its own ending. There's also Schubert's "Unfinished Symphony": orchestras have played that beloved piece countless times, always leaving its last note hanging expectantly in the air.
Mark's Gospel is an unfinished symphony. At first it seems that all Jesus' efforts (and God's) have been for naught: for the people are still afraid, even after hearing the good news of resurrection. Yet the truth is, the gospel doesn't end there. It's not that the alternative, appended endings are superior; Mark's Gospel does not end there because the church does not, indeed, cower silently in fear. We go out and become a part of the story.
Some Words On the Word -- Mark 16:1-8
"I can still remember George MacDonald trying to explain this story to our eighth grade Sunday School class. He peered through bifocals to read the denominational curriculum to us, suggesting that (a) maybe the last page of the text got torn off, or (b) a Roman soldier stabbed Mark in mid-sentence, making it impossible to finish his book. It never occurred to him (or anybody else in the educational annex) that maybe it was Mark's intent to write an unfinished book."
That's what a friend of mine, Bill Carter, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania, writes, as he recalls his first encounter with this text as a young boy. So abrupt and jarring does the ending of Mark's resurrection account seem, that it invites all sorts of fanciful explanations (like the torn-page theory and the stuck-in-the-gut-by-a-Roman-sword theory).
"They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid." What kind of ending to a world-changing gospel is that?
Neither interruption theory has much to recommend it. Nor do either of the two alternative endings to Mark's Gospel, appended by someone else at a later date. The alternative Shorter Ending reassures us that, yes, those terrified disciples did come back and tell the story, and that Jesus used them to proclaim the good news throughout the world. The alternative Longer Ending is a sort of Reader's Digest condensation of several of the post-resurrection appearances described in the other Gospels.
A riskier -- and probably more intellectually honest -- course of action is to preach this passage just as we have it, without the fanciful stories of interruptions, and without the alternative endings. To do so is to invite the Easter Sunday crowd to leave the role of spectators and actually enter the story, engaging with it on a more personal level.
Mark's resurrection story, like the others, begins with several women disciples. As soon as the Sabbath is ended (with its proscriptions on not only work, but also ritually-unclean activities like embalming), the women rise early and go to the tomb. Their action appears to be impulsive, at least in part: the women haven't thought through all the logistics, such as who's going to roll away the heavy stone blocking the tomb entrance.
When they get there, it turns out that the stone's the least of their worries. They are "alarmed" to see a young man sitting in the tomb, dressed in white. He assures them that Jesus is not there, "he has been raised" (note the passive voice). He commissions them to go and tell Peter and the others that "he is going ahead of [them] to Galilee." Other words used for the women's fearful response are "terror," "amazement," "afraid" (16:8).
We could just as well call it "shock and awe."
Not so for the mysterious young man. Mark presents him as the picture of calm repose. He's sitting in the tomb (probably a tiny, rock-hewn, cave-like room, with a ceiling so low one could barely stand), apparently waiting for the women to arrive, so he can deliver his message.
Most people, charged with meeting someone at such a grim and claustrophobic place, would choose to wait outside. This messenger, however, seems perfectly at ease in the musty gloom. It has no apparent effect on him. On the contrary, he notices his visitors' discomfort and seeks to reassure them.
(It may be useful to compare and contrast this young messenger to the cured demoniac in Mark 5:1-20. Like the young man in the tomb, the healed demoniac is garbed in new clothing. He's likewise seated, is "in his right mind," and speaks as a witness. Also like the man in white, he dwells among the tombs. Perhaps, at the outset of Jesus' healing ministry, Mark uses the story of the healed demoniac to foreshadow the glorious news that is to come.)
As devastating as the news of their Lord and master's death has been to the women disciples, the ragged, unfinished ending of his story is more disturbing still. A few hours earlier, as the women arose from a fitful sleep, they knew where Jesus was -- or so they thought. Now, in the past few moments, their world has been cracked wide open. "He is not here." How can they possibly put their shattered world back together again, when corpses no longer remain in their tombs, and heavy stones are heaved from their places as though they were nothing at all?
I've heard some wonderful sermons preached on verse 7, "he is going ahead of you to Galilee." That verse makes a wonderful springboard for mission ("See, he's gone ahead, leading the way: you go too!"). Verse 8, though, quickly puts a damper on missionary zeal: "They said nothing." They ran home, climbed into bed, pulled the covers over their head. Some missionaries!
Mark never tells us whether these women ever found their courage -- not, at least, in the original ending of his Gospel. From other witnesses -- the other three Gospels, as well as the Shorter and Longer Endings of Mark -- we know that they did. Yet the indictment verse 8 pronounces upon these wavering witnesses can just as readily be applied to us: do we ever get over our fear, enough to share the good news that we have heard and seen?
William Willimon of Duke University Chapel concludes one of his Easter sermons with these words:
"We have been told that [Jesus] is not here, that he will not stay nailed down, sealed shut, all tied up and secure. He will not be held by death. So if we would follow him -- if we want to be his church -- it will not be to places of deadly certainty. It must be forward, into the future, out into whatever Galilee you must go to on Monday. That's where he is, that's where he will meet you. And that good news is more than a little scary. No wonder the last word in Mark's Gospel, and in the story of the first Easter, is fear."
A Map of the Message
It's Easter again. Time to revisit those old, familiar texts. The most familiar, of course, is John's version of the resurrection. It comes up every year in the lectionary: it's the old standby. John's Easter story is what "C&E people" and regular pew-sitters alike expect to hear on the great festival day. John's Gospel -- or some harmonization built upon John's account as the primary foundation -- is the preacher's path of least resistance.
But let's confound them this year. Let's look at Mark's version, instead.
No tender encounter in the garden here, "when the dew is still on the roses." Mark delivers a starkly empty tomb ... a mysterious heavenly intruder ... fear ... awe ... dismay ... uncertainty. Not exactly what most folks in their newly purchased spring outfits have come to hear -- although, since it's an experience of fear, it's probably closer to their everyday lives all the same.
Preacher and professor of homiletics Fred Craddock says somewhere that a true understanding of Easter begins from a respectful distance. You must start, he says, with awe.
Awe is precisely what Mark gives us. It's not the sort of awe spoken of by teenagers a few years back, who were fond of describing the latest music video as "awesome." Nor is it the sort of awe Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld promised the Iraqi Republican Guard would feel, as coalition bombers dropped their deadly cargo on their heads. ("Shock" was surely part of their reaction, but awe less so -- for "awe" implies also a fascination and respect bordering on worship.)
Awe is not simply fear. There's an element of fear present in it, to be sure, but awe is more than that. Awe is the reaction of the spiritually chastened: of people who have encountered not only the powerful, but the divinely powerful. This divine power has so disrupted and disordered their world that their only option is to flee from it for a time: to regroup, to re-orient. "Woe is me," wails Isaiah in the Temple, after receiving his vision of God: "I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips ..." (Isaiah 6:5). Such is the reaction of the women in Mark's Gospel who flee the empty tomb.
You don't get to that sort of place by merely being a spectator, by watching in a disinterested fashion from afar. Awe comes only when the holy has drawn near, and not only somewhat near: when it's come too close for comfort. ("Remove the sandals from your feet," the Lord says to Moses, "for the place on which you are standing is holy ground" --Exodus 6:5.)
Life's true "shock and awe" experiences -- and I'm not sure the bombing of Iraq qualifies for that description, for reasons I've described above -- demand a response. One can only remain a disinterested observer for so long: once awe comes onto the scene, the only possible responses are flight or obedience (as Jonah learned, to his dismay).
Mark's Gospel, with its ragged ending, evokes that kind of response in those who seek to place themselves in it. In that sense, it's an interactive story. Interactivity is the guiding principle behind all computer games. In such games, the player impacts the story line: by punching the keyboard, or by wiggling the joystick or mouse. Each game session is, by definition, different from the last. Each one is affected by how the player responds.
The raw, unfinished nature of Mark's story demands a response from us, the readers. The scribes who came along later and amended it were, perhaps unconsciously, answering Mark's implicit demand for a response.
The opera-writer, Puccini, died suddenly before he had a chance to finish his opera, Turandot. One of his fellow-composers, Franco Alfano, wrote two final scenes that completed the story. When the opera premiered in 1926 at Milan's famed La Scala opera house, Arturo Toscanini was the conductor.
When Toscanini reached the place where Puccini had left off, he stopped the performance. With tears in his eyes, he turned to the audience and announced, "This is where the master ends." Then he raised his baton once again and declared, "This is where his friends continue." Then he concluded the performance.
How like Mark's account of the resurrection that is! God has done a mighty work in raising Jesus from the dead: so mighty that our lives are profoundly disoriented by it. There are two possible responses to this experience: to continue in fear, or to step forward in faith. Mark's interactive Easter story leaves the choice up to us.
The Scottish theologian Alan Lewis was teaching at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary when he was diagnosed with cancer. He died in 1994 at the age of 50, after a protracted battle with the disease.
It so happened that, at the time of his diagnosis, Lewis was working on a book about what he called "the theology of Holy Saturday." That transitional day between Good Friday and Easter, between cross and resurrection, between death and new life, has been much-neglected by the church. When do we ever preach or teach those texts? Only rarely. Most of us proceed directly from cross to resurrection. If any of us preachers think of Holy Saturday at all, it's most likely as a blessed interval of quietude and rest, between the blood of the cross and the lilies of Easter.
The spare and abrupt ending of Mark's Gospel -- belonging more to the pre-dawn half-light than to the full sun of morning -- has perhaps more affinities with the fear and confusion of Holy Saturday than with the alleluias of Easter. Alan Lewis' theological study of the Holy Saturday texts is therefore worth looking at, as a way of addressing the state of mind of the grieving women.
Lewis warns us preachers not to try to soft-pedal the harsh and shocking aspects of the Easter story. Its message, he says, is not so much "all is well" as "Jesus is Lord":
"Perhaps the greatest threat to the gospel story, that the Jesus whom Jerusalem murdered God raised from the dead, is the well-intentioned effort of preachers and theologians to make these scandalous, mysterious happenings comprehensible by suggesting that they mirror the familiar. In particular, illuminating analogies are frequently adduced from the phenomenon of the cyclic: the rhythms of sleep and waking, death and birth, which we experience night and morning and observe through all of nature's seasons, as well as in our own passages from infancy to parenthood to death. Above all, the Easter victory over death is domesticated as the supreme instance of a generic immortality -- the inherent capacity of human beings, or more usually of the human soul or spirit, to survive the grave and achieve eternal unity with our transcendent source. All these attempts to treat the events of Good Friday and Easter Day as particularizing a familiar universal, either anthropological or cosmological, disregard the very narrative which presents them as history -- as new, unique happenings, involving a particular, unsubstitutable person at an unrepeatable point in time and space."1
As Lewis underwent chemotherapy and other harsh treatment regimens, he put his book project aside for a long time. When the doctors informed him they'd failed to halt the disease's progress and his days were numbered, he took up his project again -- but from a very different perspective. The latter part of his book is a highly personal reflection on Holy Saturday, from the perspective of a dying man.
Lewis bluntly reminds us that Christ does not survive death (otherwise, how could it truly have been death?). Christ moved not away from death, and not around it, but through death to new life:
"And yet, and yet: the Christian good news of victory over death is not about survival. The very function of Easter Saturday is to prevent the rubbing out of Friday and its grievous memories by the instant and overwhelming exuberance of Sunday. Easter Saturday says that Jesus was gone and finished, subjected to death's power for a season. So Christ himself did not -- despite centuries of popular theological and homiletical deceit -- survive the grave! He succumbed to death and was swallowed by the grave -- his Sabbath rest in the sepulcher a dramatized insistence that his termination was realistic and complete, a proper subject of grief and valediction.... God's victory over death, as the Christian gospel tells it, is not a matter of smooth, ensured survival but a new existence after nonsurvival -- a quite different reality, for us as well as God.
Resurrection hope is not for easy, kind release, that happy, beautiful transition to 'a better place' so often triumphalistically and dishonestly proclaimed in some church quarters, even in circumstances of horrible, catastrophic, or untimely death. The song of victory is sometimes only to be chokingly managed in the midst of tears and anger, and may certainly never drown out or replace the sounds of honest grief. No more is resurrection the equivalent of inherent immortality. Our hope is for that 'eschatological surplus' after the fact and finality of our extinction, for new possibilities supervening upon discontinuity, a free gift from outside us and beyond us -- a share, that is, in God's own triune life." 2
The story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the greatest -- but also the most profoundly disorienting -- news the world has ever heard. In the words of the early church leader John Chrysostom, from an ancient sermon that's read each year on Easter in many eastern Orthodox churches even now:
Let all partake of the Feast of Faith,
Let all receive the riches of goodness.
Let none lament their poverty,
for the Universal Kingdom has been revealed.
Let none mourn their transgressions,
for Pardon has dawned from the Tomb!
Let no one fear Death,
for the Savior's death has set us free!
He that was taken by Death has annihilated it.
He descended into Hell, and took Hell captive! ...
"O Death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory?"
Christ is risen, and you are overthrown!
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen!
Christ is risen, and the Angels rejoice!
Christ is risen, and Life reigns!
Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the tombs!
For Christ being raised from the dead,
has become the first-fruits of them that slept.
To him be glory and dominion through all the ages of ages!
Notes
1 Between Cross and Resurrection: A Theology of Holy Saturday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 59-60.
2 Lewis, p. 428
Team Comments
George Murphy responds: Your approach is good, offering possibilities for Easter preaching which brings out some of the sense of "fear and trembling" that must have accompanied the first Easter. Of course one doesn't want to avoid the sense of joy too, but that shouldn't be presented as simply a superficial emotion. A few further comments:
The problem of the ending of Mark has been discussed extensively, and D.E. Nineham, The Gospel of Saint Mark (Penguin, 1963), provides a good brief discussion (pp.439-453). He states that "the final words of v. 8, which are strange enough in English, are even more difficult in the Greek" (p. 440).
It's perhaps worth noting that while the "longer ending" (vv.9-20) is certainly by a different and later author and thus not by "Mark," they have been considered part of the canonical Gospel of Mark by the church.
It's often been pointed out that in Mark all the male disciples of Jesus run away when he's arrested, and that only the women who followed him saw the crucifixion (15:40-41). Now the women run away too and are silent -- but because of the awesomeness of the resurrection news, not because they're afraid of persecution.
The way we -- i.e., the readers and hearers of the gospel -- are drawn into the story by the ending is very important. We're told that Jesus is going to appear to some of his disciples (v. 7). He does not, however, appear to us in that way. Christ encounters us in the same way that he encountered the women at the tomb -- in the word that he has been raised. Statements like "Jesus has been raised into the kerygma" don't exhaust the meaning of the Resurrection, but they do express an essential aspect of it. In the proclamation of the gospel and the sacraments (as "visible words"), empowered by "the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead," Christ comes to people today. This should be both an encouraging and a humbling reminder to preachers who are called to the task of proclamation.
James L. Evans responds: Mark's abrupt ending (Mark 16:8) is even more abrupt and startling when looked at in Greek, as George Murphy notes. The sentence actually ends with a conjunction -- "gar," translated "for." For a long time scholars have presumed that this dangling conjunction was evidence of an incomplete manuscript, either unfinished by Mark for some reason, or the original ending lost through some mishap. The basis for this conclusion, of course, was the absence of dangling conjunctions in comparative Greek literature.
However, James Blevins, a retired New Testament professor from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, pointed out in a lecture once that our knowledge of Greek grammar is limited to the number of documents that had actually been studied and compared. There are, he noted thousands upon thousands of manuscripts and pieces of manuscripts that have not been examined. The advent of the computer, he went on to say, has made it possible to catalog some of these previously unexamined writings and do some basic comparisons fairly quickly.
One of the findings of this computer analysis was the discovery that ending sentences with "gar' was not that uncommon. This discovery raises the distinct possibility that Mark deliberately ended his work with an open-ended sense of high expectation.
What if the abrupt ending is Mark's intention? What are we to do with that? Carlos is right when he asserts that reading the ending as is allows us "to invite the Easter-Sunday crowd to leave the role of spectators and actually enter the story, engaging it on a more personal level." In other words a deliberately open-ended ending is an invitation to write our own ending by including our own experience with the risen Christ.
Carter Shelly responds: I really like the way you take the current coinage of our military strategy in Iraq and move from it to something deeper, less comprehensible and more worthy of awe: the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the effect it had upon the initial witnesses as well as centuries of others along the way. The layers of meaning for awe build throughout this sermon in a profound way.
I also appreciate your using the differences of the four Gospel accounts to emphasize more fully the uniqueness of Mark's account in all its brevity and power. I think it's significant that the messengers God sends in both Old and New Testament contexts are there to deliver word of God's action. These messengers do not resemble the postcard and trinket angels popular in the last few years as the personal guardian of individual human beings. If Islam's primary declaration is "There is no God but Allah," the orthodox Jew or Christian (as opposed to the New Age enthusiast) might well declare: "There is no guardian but God and Yahweh is God's name."
The fact that the women head for home without sharing the news makes perfect sense to me. Several things may have been at work there. When someone wins an unexpected award, gets a job they hadn't thought they would, or receives some sort of special attention in the local newspaper, who doesn't want to savor the moment? Make it last, take it home and cherish it, relive it, and ponder what it means? Perhaps that's what the women did. How could anyone grasp the shock and awe, the importance in an instant? Surely, the women needed that time to take it all in. They needed time to pray, confer, and ponder what they'd encountered, before they headed out to share their experience with others.
In the section she wrote on Mark for The Women's Bible Commentary, Dr. Mary Ann Tolbert makes the following observation about the women who come to the tomb:
Although the author says that these women have been followers of Jesus and ministers to him from his days in Galilee, the reference in 15:40 is the first time in the entire Gospel this large a group of female followers has been mentioned. While it is strange that such constant and faithful followers of Jesus should be omitted from earlier episodes, it comes as a hopeful sign to know that some of Jesus' followers have remained true to him, especially since the twelve male disciples have proved to be such thoroughly rocky ground ... Even though the women keep their distance from the public sites of the crucifixion and burial, as proper women should, they are at least present, demonstrating by that fact alone their superiority to the male disciples. Such faithful constancy from women should come as no surprise to the audience of the Gospel, given the positive way women have generally been portrayed throughout the narrative (p. 273).
Tolbert also points out that women purchasing spices do so to take care of a corpse. Thus, the women's expectations of what they will encounter are exactly in keeping with what they have experienced up to this point. They do not have special insight or foresight to prepare them for the messenger or the empty tomb. Nevertheless, the fact that these women have been Jesus' followers throughout his ministry suggests they would have heard his words about rising from the dead in Mark 8:31, 8:31, and 10:33-34. Whether they had any inkling of hope is not stated by Mark. Tolbert goes on to comment on the women's failure to do as the messenger commands. Instead, they are frightened and do not tell Peter or the others, who themselves equally have been frightened by the events of the past week. Consequently, what's needed are "followers who are willing to act outside the constraints of society, religiously and socially." Tolbert sees this conclusion to Mark as a challenge to the reader of his Gospel. While those who knew Jesus initially failed him, the reader receives the opportunity to act more boldly. "The expectations raised and then crushed by the end of the Gospel are intended to move the hearers of the Gospel to action ... At the end and indeed by means of the end itself, the audience of the Gospel of Mark, both women and men, are challenged to become themselves faithful disciples, carrying the message to the world ... " (p. 274).
Finally, Carlos, I greatly appreciate the point you make about death being real and often ugly and your attention to the "theological and homiletical deceit" that Jesus somehow was spared the ugly bits of dying, death, and grave. Since most of us do prefer Easter Day to Good Friday or Holy Saturday, it's tempting to gloss over it for Jesus himself.
A subscriber responds: Thanks very much to Carlos Wilton for "Shock and Awe."
Here is another thought about the Markan ending. Mark's congregation appears to have known persecution (Mark10:32 - "with persecutions"). Mark proclaims the resurrection (16:6), but given a persecuted people, it does not mean that now all is well for them and the women are not immediately ready to tell the good news (as in the other Gospels).
This may tie into Jesus' one and only word from the Cross in Mark (followed by Matthew). "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me." Mark's congregation may have cried out with similar words in their suffering; and for them to hear Jesus' word from the cross through Mark, lets them know that he understands and is with them in their despair. I imagine that many in Iraq have cried out with such words of despair too, perhaps even some of our military personnel.
With no resurrection appearances in Mark (16:9-20 is clearly a later addition), he will go before them into Galilee, the place of Jesus' ministry; and as they enter into his ministry of liberating compassion, there they will "see him" (16:7). They will know the power of his risen presence as they share in his ministry. Jesus' resurrection is not something only for personal enjoyment. It is for empowering our ministry in his name. And every Sunday, worship is to celebrate and equip us with the power of the resurrection for the living of these days.
--Paul Hammer
Illustrations
(Perhaps the musicians among us will especially appreciate this humorous piece that's long been circulating on the Internet. It purports to have been written by an efficiency expert who's seeking to smooth out the rough ending of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony -- much as those who added to Mark's Gospel sought to do with his work. . .)
A company chairman was given a ticket for a performance of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony. Since he was unable to go, he passed the invitation to the company's Quality Assurance Manager. The next morning, the chairman asked him how he enjoyed it, and instead of a few plausible observations, he was handed a memorandum that read as follows:
1. For a considerable period, the oboe players had nothing to do. Their number should be reduced, and their work spread over the whole orchestra, thus avoiding peaks of inactivity.
2. All twelve violins were playing identical notes. This seems unnecessary duplication, and the staff of this section should be drastically cut. If a large volume of sound is really required, this could be obtained through the use of an amplifier.
3. Much effort was involved in playing the demi--semiquavers. This seems an excessive refinement, and it is recommended that all notes should be rounded up to the nearest semiquaver. If this were done, it would be possible to use trainees instead of craftsman.
4. No useful purpose is served by repeating with horns the passage that has already been handled by the strings. If all such redundant passages were eliminated, the concert could be reduced from two hours to twenty minutes.
In light of the above, one can only conclude that had Schubert given attention to these matters, he probably would have had the time to finish his symphony.
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Is this any way to run a resurrection? Is this enough to persuade, to stir new life in the followers of Jesus? First, let it be said that none of the Gospels provides an unambiguous, totally convincing account. Matthew says the disciples worshiped Jesus but some doubted; Luke says that in their joy they were disbelieving; and John says one of the Twelve refused to believe until he touched and felt. Faith is not coerced, even on Easter. In the New Testament, faith is response to divine revelation, and Mark provides that from the mouth of the young man in the tomb.
Second, Mark did not need an appearance of the risen Christ to affirm his faith in the resurrection. Faith can be expressed by adding an appearance after death and burial or it can be expressed by remembrance of Jesus' repeated promise of a resurrection. Mark chose the latter. Descending the Mount of Transfiguration, he told Peter, James, and John not to speak of their experience until after the resurrection; each of the three predictions of the passion included a prediction of resurrection; and on the way to Gethsemane, Jesus said, "But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee." At the tomb the angel said to tell his disciples and Peter that he would meet them in Galilee, "just as he told you." The recollection of the words of Jesus is the stuff of faith.
Third, the question of why Mark, who obviously believed in the resurrection, included no appearance of the risen Christ is a natural one raised by the text itself. We can only speculate, but a reasonable answer may lie in Mark's accent on the cross. He has told the story of Jesus from baptism to crucifixion. The journey to Jerusalem was a journey to the cross, and all who would follow him must take up the cross. Perhaps for Mark, ending the story with a glorious resurrection would have reduced the cross to a stop on the way to resurrection and have turned the tomb cave into a tunnel with light shining through. Perhaps.
Fourth, even Mark's brief Easter account is full of Good News. To disciples who had abandoned him and to Peter who denied him, Jesus' word was, "I will meet you in Galilee. There we began together; there we will begin anew."
And finally, of the women, afraid and silent: what can be said? When such persons find their voices, what powerful witnesses! No glib and easy Easter words here. They had been to the cemetery.
-- Fred Craddock, "He Is Not Here," in Christian Century, April 5, 2003, p. 21.
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Hwin the mare, meeting Aslan the lion, in C. S. Lewis' novel from his Chronicles of Narnia series, The Horse and his Boy:
"Please," she said, "You're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else."
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Eugene Peterson, in his book on King David, said every church worthy of the name should be required by law to post a sign warning "Beware the God."
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Reverence -- a term that's all but dropped out of the popular discourse -- is closely related to awe.
Reverence is an ancient virtue that survives among us in half-forgotten patterns of civility, in moments of inarticulate awe, and in nostalgia for the lost ways of traditional cultures. We have the word "reverence" in our language, but we scarcely know how to use it. Right now it has no place in secular discussions of ethics or political theory. Even more surprising, reverence is missing from modern discussions of the ancient cultures that prized it.
Reverence begins in a deep understanding of human limitations; from this grows the capacity to be in awe of whatever we believe lies outside our control - God, truth, justice, nature, even death. The capacity for awe, as it grows, brings with it the capacity for respecting fellow human beings, flaws and all. This in turn fosters the ability to be ashamed when we show moral flaws exceeding the normal human allotment. The Greeks before Plato saw reverence as one of the bulwarks of society, and the immediate followers of Confucius in China thought much the same. Both groups wanted to see reverence in their leaders, because reverence is the virtue that keeps leaders from trying to take tight control of other people's lives. Simply put, reverence is the virtue that keeps human beings from trying to act like gods.
From Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue by Paul Woodruff,
http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/excerpts/bookreview/excp_5502.html
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In contrast to the stark and spare ending of Mark's Gospel, the apocryphal Gospel of Peter delivers an account of the resurrection that's anything but low-key. These words do not, of course, belong to the canon; yet they're interesting, all the same, in their attempt to answer some readers' desire for an Easter story more spectacular than the empty tomb...
But in the night in which the Lord's Day dawned, when the soldiers were safeguarding [it] two by two in every watch, there was a loud voice in heaven; and they saw that the heavens were opened and that two males who had much radiance had come down from there and come near the sepulcher. But that stone which had been thrust against the door, having rolled by itself, went a distance off to the side; and the sepulcher opened, and both the young men entered. And so those soldiers, having seen, awakened the centurion and the elders (for they too were present, safeguarding). And while they were relating what they had seen, again they see three males who have come out from the sepulcher, with the two supporting the other one, and a cross following them, and the head of the two reaching unto heaven, but that of the one being led out by hand by them going beyond the heavens. And they were hearing a voice from the heavens saying, "Have you made proclamation to the fallen-asleep?" And an obeisance was heard from the cross, "Yes."
-- Gospel of Peter 9:35-42; quoted by Raymond Brown in The Death of the Messiah.
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A pastor was telling me that he spent last Easter at the glorious Easter Service at the Cathedral of St. John Divine in New York City. As is their custom, the service begins with the bishop outside the door, rapping on the front door. The door is then to be swung open, and the glorious Easter processional begins. This past year, the bishop was wearing a wireless microphone. Before he rapped on the door announcing, "Christ is risen," the microphone was turned on so all of the worshipers heard the bishop say, "This is awkward." The pastor and I agreed that is an understatement. Easter is, in a word, awkward. Life, coming into death, at any time of the year, anywhere is awkward.
-- William Willimon in Pulpit Resource, Vol 27, #1 year A, p.50.
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The great 17th century British poet John Milton wrote a poem on the birth of Jesus called "Ode upon the Morning of Christ's Nativity." Afterwards, he attempted to write a companion poem on the death of Jesus, but finally gave up. His collected works include the unfinished fragment, but underneath it he scrawled these words: "This subject the author finding to be above the years he had when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished."
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The great Easter truth is not that we are to live newly after death -- that is not the great thing -- but that we are to live here and now by the power of the resurrection; not so much that we are to live forever as that we are to, and may, live nobly now because we are to live forever.
-- Phillips Brooks
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For myself, as I approach my end, I find Jesus' outrageous claim ever more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night as the old do, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.
I see my ancient carcass, prone between the sheets, stained and worn like a scrap of paper dropped in the gutter and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis stage and ready to fly away. Are caterpillars told of their impending resurrection? How in dying they will be transformed from poor earth-crawlers into creatures of the air, with exquisitely painted wings? If told, do they believe it? I imagine the wise old caterpillars shaking their heads -- no, it can't be; it's a fantasy.
Yet in the limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one single streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: I am the resurrection, and the life, and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.
-- Malcom Muggeridge
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It's not his absence from an empty grave that convinces us. It's his presence in our empty lives.
-- Frederick Buechner
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Resurrection is the ultimate declaration of God's grace. It is not natural. It is not automatic. It is wholly dependent upon the faithfulness, forbearance, and love of God. And just for that reason I am able to sleep at night.
-- Douglas John Hall
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The following is by Anne Lamott, author of the bestselling Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. As with that earlier book of hers, these comments refer to the author's personal discovery of Christianity as a source of healing from addiction, and include some language that is at once both rough and passionate ...
People who think we Christians are idiots or delusional for our beliefs get hung up on the Good Friday part -- the part where Jesus is suffering, everyone is bad, God is mad. I try not to bog down in it, though, and not because of what Lenny Bruce said, that if Christ had been killed in the modern era, we Christians would be wearing electric-chair charms on chains around our necks. It's because I got sober, against all odds, and then I started hanging out with people who were trying to get sober too, and over time I got to watch a number of the walking dead come back to life -- as I came back to life. So I believe in the basic Christian message: that life happens, death happens and then new life happens. I believe in resurrection. So sue me. Or go read something else.
Veronica, our pastor, said the other day that Jesus' promise was not that he was going to try and patch up our old raggedy-assed lives, but that he wanted to give us new life. Now, this is not what I would do, personally, if I were anyone's savior. I would at least try spackle, caulking, dry cleaning fluid. Maybe some nice new furnishings to hide the bare spots in the rug, the water-stained walls; some chemicals to kill off the dust-mite ashrams in the old sofa. But Jesus says, as Veronica put it, you can't get to the good stuff without killing off the old stuff. And death and dying, hanging out with the dying and grieving the dead, and grieving the losses along the way, is where this process most often happens....
I think it is a terrible system. I think they should let you have your true authentic healed whole self and the cool car. I think you should get to have an awareness of the eternal now and the buns of steel. But as a species, we're pumped full of the longing for more....
Being at the end of your rope is usually what it takes to convince your ego -- your little armed Brinks guard -- to say, "Hey! We can throw all this s**t off the side of the boat! We'll be fine." And nothing in you is going to believe this for a second, which is why it can be a gift to be in crisis. The stuff gets thrown overboard, and you come to with that having happened. You come to. This is the Easter message, that awakening is possible, to the goodness of God, the sacredness of human life, the sisterhood and brotherhood of all.
So in this fickle spring weather, when it feels like life is trying out all of its muscles, with the cold winds, the feverish blossomings, maybe you'll find that it wakes us up to exhilaration and discomfort, makes us more aware than usual that we're alive; that grace abounds and that we can cooperate with that.
-- Anne Lamott, "Breaking the Surface," in the Salon e-zine, April 1, 1999
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Mary,
You stand there as though your
own son had died.
You look so listless,
so sad,
as though all the life had gone out of you
as well as out of him.
You couldn't prevent it,
you know.
He knew too much,
He said too much.
It had to end as it did,
on a cross
in a tomb
stone cold dead
finished
gone
kaput.
Why stand you there waiting,
Mary Magdalene?
What do you wait for?
Don't you know
it's over?
"It's never over," she replied.
You should know that by now,
the suffering
the hurting
the hating
the emptiness
the void --
They never go away entirely.
I miss him.
It's only been three days but
I miss him.
God! How I miss him.
He never treated me like
just a woman.
I was a person to him
a full person
with promise
and beauty
and great potential.
They killed him for that
for not making distinctions
between us and them
between the good and the bad.
Somebody always has to be
better in our world.
Someone always has to be excluded
from our life.
He excluded no one.
He treated all the same,
loved all equally -- fully.
They killed him for that,
for overwhelming love.
I wish I had died with him.
I don't want to live in
this world anymore.
It's ugly
It's barren
It's full of selfishness, hate,
and greed.
It was no place for him
yet without him
it's no place for any of us.
And then a voice said to her,
"Mary?"
And it was as though the heavens had
opened
and poured out the sunshine
of a thousand spring days.
As though all which had been
desolation and despair
was lost in the wonder
of God's amazing act.
As though he who was so precious,
so loved and loving
was again with her ...
As,
in fact,
He is.
(This poem was inspired by Jesus' encounter with Mary Magdalene in John's resurrection account, it might find a place as a meditation or liturgical offering for Easter. I have used it with two voices, one is Mary Magdalene's and the other comes from either a narrator or "the gardener" depending on how one chooses to interpret it. It's probably obvious from the language, but I wrote it soon after I began reading books written by Frederick Buechner.)
-- Carter Shelley
Worship Resources
By Chuck Cammarata
CALL TO WORSHIP
LEADER: They say Jesus has risen from the dead!
PEOPLE: I DON'T BELIEVE IT.
LEADER: Neither do I.
PEOPLE: I MEAN, WHEN YOU DIE, THAT'S IT, ISN'T IT?
LEADER: I've always thought so.
PEOPLE: BUT THE TOMB WAS EMPTY.
LEADER: And dead people don't just get up and walk away.
PEOPLE: AND SOME PEOPLE WE KNOW SAY THEY HAVE SEEN HIM,
LEADER: Even touched him.
PEOPLE: IS IT POSSIBLE?
LEADER: Could it really be true?
PEOPLE: NO, THAT'S CRAZY. OR IS IT?
LEADER: After all, he wasn't like other men.
PEOPLE: GOD WAS WITH HIM IN A SPECIAL WAY.
LEADER: And all things are possible with God.
PEOPLE: SO MAYBE, JUST MAYBE ...
(Go quickly into an opening hymn celebrating the resurrection.)
CREATIVE CALL TO WORSHIP
A MINI DRAMA: The Women At the Tomb
The song "The Easter Song" by Keith Green can be found both in some compilations of contemporary Christian music and in at least one hymnal -- The Hymnal for Worship and Celebration published by WORD. This little drama is based on the song.
As a soloist sings the song a cappella -- three women enter and approach a tomb where they make an announcement beginning the service:
(Ring chimes or church bell if available as the soloist begins the song.)
Soloist: Hear the bells ringing their singing that you can be born again.
(At this point three women dressed in period robes enter down the center aisle.)
Soloist: Hear the bells ringing their singing, "Christ is risen from the dead."
(The women make their way to the front of the sanctuary where they take up their places on the right side near a doorway that has been covered with paper and made to look like a tomb entrance. A tall ladder stands beside this tomb. Sitting atop the ladder is a young man dressed as an angel.)
Soloist: The angel up on the tombstone said, "He is risen just as he said. Quickly now go tell the disciples that Jesus Christ is no longer dead. Joy to the world, He is risen, alleluia! He is risen, alleluia! He is risen, alleluia! Alleluia!
(During this time the women fall to their knees, faces to the ground. The church bells begin ringing again as the angel finishes the announcement -- descends the ladder and leaves the stage.)
Soloist: Hear the bells ringing their singing that you can be born again. Hear the bells ringing their singing -- Christ is risen from the dead!
(Here the soloist fades out. The bells continue ringing for a moment. Then they stop. The women now stand and excitedly speak to each other.)
Woman #1: He is alive. He is alive.
Woman #2: I knew he wouldn't leave us.
Woman #3: (Pulling the sleeve of the others back down the center aisle) Come on we must go tell the others. Everyone needs to know. (As they go back down the center aisle, they stop and speak loudly to several people.) "He is risen. Christ the Lord is risen today!"
(At this point the organist begins the intro to the hymn "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," and the congregation begins singing.)
HYMNS
Christ the Lord Is Risen Today
Up from the Grave He Arose
He Rose Triumphantly
The Easter Song
Jesus Christ Is Risen Today
PRAYER OF CONFESSION AND ASSURANCE OF PARDON
LEADER: All about us the world is exploding to life,
PEOPLE: SOOTHING SUNSHINE,
LEADER: Refreshing rainfall,
PEOPLE: TANTALIZING TULIP,
LEADER: Beautiful bird song.
PEOPLE: AND WE MISS IT.
LEADER: Too blind, or too busy.
PEOPLE: WE MISS IT.
LEADER: The baby is beginning to walk,
PEOPLE: WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?
LEADER: Grandma and Grandpa are here to visit,
PEOPLE: WE HAVE TOO MUCH WORK TO DO.
LEADER: The sunset was glorious tonight.
PEOPLE: WHAT SUNSET?
LEADER: Snuggling with the kids,
PEOPLE: A BARBECUE WITH FRIENDS,
LEADER: Dancing with the one you love,
PEOPLE: LAUGHING WITH THE KIDS,
LEADER: Life! God's gift! It's everywhere!
PEOPLE: AND WE MISS IT.
LEADER: But, the message of Easter is that life is always available.
PEOPLE: FULL, ABUNDANT, EVERLASTING LIFE!
LEADER: All we have to do is open our hearts to Him
PEOPLE: AND HE WILL OPEN OUR EYES TO SEE.
LEADER: Amen!
OTHER MUSICAL SUGGESTIONS
The beautiful song, I Can Only Imagine by the group mercyme is perfect for Easter. It is from the CD Almost There. Accompaniment tapes are available from bookstores and at the website www.CBD.com. The chorus to this song is:
Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you, Jesus, or in awe of you be still?
Will I stand in your presence, or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujahs, Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine ...
The hymn Lord of the Dance also called I Danced in the Morning is a great celebration hymn. Super for closing an Easter service. It can be found in several hymnals and The Tune Book by Yo Anderson.
I Looked Up also in the Tune Book is excellent as well.
Also the traditional folk song, Am the Resurrection and the Life in the Tune Book is good.
PARISH PRAYER
Risen Redeemer, you are life to us, for in you the last enemy, death, is defeated. Fill our hearts this day with the joy of your victory. Open us to the possibilities of living into this victory both in this life and the next, and help us to bear witness to this victory in our lives and words. Minister your victory now to those in deep need. We pray for ...
Those to whom sickness has come ...
Those who have been stricken by a loss ...
Those who are oppressed by difficulties in life ...
Those in despair over brokenness in a relationship ...
Those grieved by the depth of their sin ...
Those who are hungry ...
Those suffering injustice ...
Those living in the maelstrom of the Middle East ...
Our troops ...
Our Iraqi brothers and sisters ...
Our leaders.
Be the resurrection and the life to each of these this day. Amen.
Children's Sermon
By Wesley Runk
Mark 16:1-8
Text: When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. (v. 4)
Object: Interview the children, asking each one of them to finish the story.
Happy Easter, boys and girls! What a beautiful day this is today. I want to tell you part of a story and I would like for you to finish it. Our lesson for today comes from the Gospel of Mark. However, I am going to start back a couple of days. I am sure all of you have heard most of it.
On Friday, Jesus was crucified. He hung on a cross for three hours and died. A couple of disciples by the names of Nicodemus and Joseph took the body of Jesus and put it in a tomb that was owned by Joseph. It was late on Friday and they only had time to wrap him in some white cloth and cover his face with a white napkin. When they came out of the tomb, which was carved out of a big rock in the side of a hill, they had the big stone that closed off the tomb rolled into place. Then they left the tomb.
Pilate, at the request of some Jewish leaders, placed soldiers to guard the tomb because they were afraid that other disciples might take away the body. That is what happened on Friday. Saturday was the Jewish Sabbath and no one came to the tomb. The only people there at the tomb were the soldiers who remained on guard.
On Sunday morning three women got up very early to go to the tomb and take care of the rituals of the burial of Jesus that they did not have time to do on Friday. Their names were Mary Magdalene, another Mary whose son was James, and Salome. While they rushed to the tomb, they wondered out loud who was going to move the heavy stone that guarded the tomb. But when they got there, the stone was rolled away. They looked in the tomb and they saw a young man sitting on the place where Jesus had been. The three women were shocked. The young man said, "Do not be alarmed, I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is risen, so he is not here, but go and tell the disciples that he will meet them in Galilee as he promised." The three women were so frightened that they ran as fast at they could away from the tomb.
That's all that the writer Mark wrote for the Bible. So I want to ask each one of you to tell me what you think happened to Jesus. Here are some of the questions I want to ask you.
1. How did Jesus get out of the tomb with soldiers guarding it and a stone covering the entrance?
2. Who was the young man sitting there and waiting for them?
3. Why were the women afraid and why did they run away?
4. Why did Jesus tell the young man that his disciples should meet him in Galilee?
(Begin your interviews and let the children put their end on the story. Use a microphone so that the rest of the congregation can hear them speak first hand. You may have to repeat what they have said. Try not to let it get too humorous or the children will not be eager to give their honest opinions.)
The Immediate Word, April 20, 2003, issue.
Copyright 2003 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
