Mark 16:1-8 (NRSV)
Now when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, that they might come and anoint Him. Very early in the morning, on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb when the sun had risen. And they said among themselves, “Who will roll away the stone from the door of the tomb for us?” But when they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away—for it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man clothed in a long white robe sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed.
But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid Him. But go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him, as He said to you.”
So they went out quickly and fled from the tomb, for they trembled and were amazed. And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
~
"Mark’s conclusion where the three women who came to the grave run away in fear is so strong that it is enough to make us forget that it is preceded by a ringing proclamation that Jesus has been raised. He has already arrived in Galilee, where he is waiting for them and the disciples. When we remember this proclamation and let it sink in, we realize that this enigmatic ending is not pessimistic or skeptical about the risen life of Jesus, but it is pessimistic and skeptical about the ability of human beings to come to grips with Jesus’ risen life.
"Mark is not unique in saying that the women at the tomb were afraid when they found the tomb empty. All of the Gospel accounts say as much. In fact, the risen Jesus has to tell everyone who sees him not to be afraid once they recognize him (which they usually don’t at first.) What is unique to Mark is that he only says that the women were afraid as they ran off. Matthew, in contrast, says that the women left the tomb quickly with “fear and great joy.” (Mt. 28:8) Moreover, in Matthew, they did tell the disciples.
"What were they afraid of? What are we afraid of? Usually fear is our response to a threat. If I think a big dog might bite me, I am afraid of it. If someone aims a machine gun at me, I am afraid for my life. But what about Jesus, who never bit anybody or fired a machine gun? Well, we can be afraid of having our understanding of the world turned upside down so that it feels like the earthquake in Matthew, and that is precisely what the Resurrection does. With Easter well-integrated into our yearly cycle of Christian worship, it can seem to be business as usual, but that is an illusion. The great value of Mark’s blunt proclamation followed by women running off in fear is that it reminds us that the Resurrection is not business as usual; it is the bankruptcy of everything we thought kept us in the business of life.
"But the Resurrection is a good thing, isn’t it? What is there to be afraid of? If the Resurrection is just a happy ending to a story we celebrate and then move on to the business of living, then the Resurrection isn’t much to worry about. But then it isn’t much to celebrate, either. There are other excuses for having a party. The women ran away from the tomb, not to have a party, but to get away from what had just broken apart their lives as they understood them.
"Remember, in Mark’s Gospel, nobody understood Jesus. And the misunderstandings of him only got worse the more Jesus healed people and taught them, until the story ended with Jesus hanging on a cross. So, how could the women or the disciples understand what was happening to them when they were told that Jesus had been raised from the dead? Maybe the disciples, maybe even the women who remained faithful to the end in tending to Jesus’ body, were relieved that the man they did not understand was gone. At least they could understand grief and resentment over what had happened. But Jesus wasn’t gone. They were going to have to go back to Galilee, where the whole story of Mark’s Gospel started, and try again without the benefit of grief and resentment.
"Being sent back to the beginning suggests that God was giving them, and us, a second chance. They and we have the advantage of knowing the end of the story, and we can use that as a key to understanding what led up to it. We have learned that the world was broken apart by a God who would choose to die on a cross rather than start a violent revolution. But that God remains alive in the face of such an appalling event, and thus is a God who remains alive in the appalling events we face today. Worse than that, Jesus has broken the cycle of resentment and rage that, though painful, was tight and cozy and predictable. This means we have to redefine the ways we relate to one another. Worse yet, we are threatened with the challenge of life that just isn’t going to let up now that death is broken apart. Let us also go back to Galilee and see what else we can find."
- Andrew Marr, Moving and Resting in God’s Desire, pp. 137-38
~
"Nothing in the phrasing of the texts of the New Testament is accidental, and it seems to me that in the story of Sarah we have the reference which gives the context for the Marcan account of the frightened women.[1] The stone put aside and the absence of the corpse were not in the first instance a motive for rejoicing, but for terror. Terror because what had happened was quite outside anything that could be expected. Beside this, the possibility of the birth of a child to an aged lady is a mere nothing. Terror because now there was no security, no rules, nothing normal could be trusted in. And worse, terror because everything difficult and frightening which Jesus had taught had to begin to come about: he went before them, as he had told them.
"It seems to me that here we have the most appropriate place from which to start our examination of hope. I want to focus on this because there is nothing pretty about Christian hope. Whatever Christian hope is, it begins in terror and utter disorientation in the face of the collapse of all that is familiar and well known."
- James Alison, Raising Abel, pg. 161
[1] I owe this insight, as many others, to J. D. M. Derrett, who points it out (with acknowledgement of his own source) in the prologue to his work "The Victim: The Johannine Passion Narrative Re-examined" (Shipston-under-Stour: Drinkwater, 1993)
~
"“And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid,” quoting Sarah, who was afraid after she had heard the promise that she would become a mother. At first she laughed, then she was afraid. Because it meant that the world was opening up, something new was going to happen, there isn't an obvious way forward here. And this is what we celebrate on the Feast of the Resurrection, the arrival finally, in the midst of our history, as the completion of what Jesus had been about to do, as the opening up to us of a beginning, of a new beginning... the opening up of creation, the first day of creation. Such that we find ourselves on the inside of it, starting to make a sense that we aren't yet aware of, and which each of us has to find our way into and bring alive.
"And that's what's being a daughter or a son is, finding our way into this fullness of creation that has been opened up to us, in which all the usual storytelling signs have been turned on their head. That... is for me the genius of Marks' resurrection account. He knows that it's not an ending, it's not even a proper story, it's the condition of possibility of an unimagined story being birthed in our midst by one who has done something for us and is going to be alongside us and with us as we learn to take that forward."
- James Alison, from video "Homily for Easter Sunday 2021" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UnAEcdP2hg)
[Source of quotes from Andrew Marr and James Alison's Raising Abel, and for discussion and reflection on all of this week's lectionary texts, see: https://girardianlectionary.net/reflections/year-b/easterb/]
No comments:
Post a Comment