I’m a bit confused by the gospel reading we’ve just heard, this passage from Mark.
You see, it stops at verse 7, leaving verse 8 out of the picture; which changes the meaning of it, at least potentially so. The end of Mark’s gospel has for a long time been intensely debated, and I don’t want to waste time arguing details. But it does seem unfortunate that verse 8 was left out, and I do think it’s important to tell you about it. Because there is, I think, a lesson in it for us.
The problem is this: the passage we’ve just heard tells the story of the women at the tomb early Sunday morning. Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome brought spices to anoint Jesus’s body. But, of course, to their surprise the tomb is open, and there sitting down off to the right is an angel. “Do not be amazed!” he says. “You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified. He has been raised; he is not here.” And then the angel gives them a job to do, a task. “But go and tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you.’”[1] And that’s where the reading tonight ends, with the angelic command, the divine instruction—go and tell the disciples, Peter too. Which is the problem; because that’s not the end of the passage. In fact, if you stop right there, you’ll likely misread the whole thing.
Because this is what verse 8 says: “Then they went out and fled from the tomb, seized with trembling and bewilderment. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”[2] That’s how the women reacted. They were scared out of their wits and ran away; and, in fact, they didn’t do what the angel asked them to do. They just ran away. Now, as I said, there’s all sorts of debate about the end of Mark’s gospel—about the long ending and the short ending and all that—but it seems clear that those women’s first dose of Easter was frightening, unsettling to say the least. And it’s also clear that they ran away and that they weren’t (at least immediately) obedient to the angelic command. That is, it’s possible to read it (if you don’t omit verse 8) as a story of failure; the women ran away and didn’t do what the angel asked them to do. Maybe that’s why they cut the passage short like that, because verse 8 is a bit embarrassing. Maybe they wanted you not to notice how disturbing the resurrection was for those first followers of Jesus, how almost all of them got off to a bad start.
It’s an unavoidable truth, reading Mark, that the disciples were, almost all of them, weak and at times quite clueless, often bumbling. Both the men and the women followers of Jesus at times just weren’t very impressive. Again and again in Mark’s gospel, Jesus asks them, “Do you not understand?”[3] Because again and again, they didn’t. And, when the going got tough, one of them betrayed him while the other denied him while the others scattered. And the women here kept their distance, close enough to see where Jesus was buried but not close enough to get involved in the burial itself; Mark only says that they “watched where he was laid.”[4] These women were afraid, understandably so; but afraid, nonetheless.
The disciples of Jesus that first Easter morning were not heroes; that’s my point. That’s my problem with leaving out verse 8, because doing so might give you the mistaken impression that these disciples were somehow Christian superheroes, like in some movie. They were not. They were scared. They were weak. They faltered—even here at the beginning. They were like us. They were human. In love with Jesus, worried and confused and changed, they didn’t know what to make of it. The empty tomb bewildered them; they locked themselves in a room; they didn’t obey the angelic command. They didn’t get off to a good start at all.
And it’s beautiful, this more biblical view of the Bible. These women and these men were just like us. Jesus saves people just like us. He calls you; he calls me. It doesn’t matter that you’re weak, that you don’t understand everything. The resurrection is something that comes to you; you don’t go to it. The new reality of the risen Lord, the new reality of Easter, is real no matter what; Jesus never asked us whether it would be okay if he rose from the dead. That lion of Judah just did it; he rose from the dead by God’s power and not our permission. And now he stands before you and changes your world whether or not you realize it; and you better believe it’s scary. But that’s exactly the point, the measure of Easter. How long will it take you to adjust to this new reality? How long will it take you live like the Christian you’ve become? The first disciples got off to a bad start, and there’s a chance you will too. But that’s why I shared verse 8 with you, because getting off to a bad start isn’t the end of the world. In fact, that’s just kind of the way it goes. A few verses down in Mark’s gospel, Jesus, believe it or not, “rebukes” the disciples; the first time he sees them after his resurrection, he gets on to them for “their unbelief and hardness of heart.” Clueless after Easter, the lot of them. But then in almost the same breath he says, “Go out into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature.”[5] Those weak people were made apostles, and they ended up converting most of the world. Jesus makes use of our bad starts, you see. That’s exactly his game. That’s what I want you to know.
For those who will be baptized, those coming into the Church: The Catholic life is indeed intimidating; living as a Christian, truly unafraid of death, is indeed scary. And you will, no doubt, mess it up. But now you know the secret and the wonderful mercy of the thing: we all get off to a bad start. The first disciples did too. But our God is a God of eternal mercy, and what matters is how you finish. And so welcome, my weak sisters and brothers, into the communion of Holy Mother Church. Let us be beggars of God’s mercy together, lovers of the light of Christ together, lovers of him in whom you can now do all things, because he strengthens you—the risen Christ, the Alpha and the Omega, alive forever and ever, holding the keys of death and Hades, conqueror, and now the lover of your soul.[6] Amen.
[1] Mark 16:1-7
[2] Mark 16:8
[3] Mark 7:18; 8:17, 21; 9:32
[4] Mark 15:47
[5] Mark 16:14-15
[6] Revelation 1:18
© 2024 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield
