The April Fool

Mark 16:1-8

        Monday night is my prescribed time to catch up with the continuing saga of Carrie Matheson on the TV show Homeland. But my mother was visiting and I decided perhaps the show was too intense for her. OK, I was afraid she might be disappointed in my choice of entertainment. So I flipped to the Turner Movie Channel which was airing The Incredible Shrinking Man. It is the story of a guy who is a control freak when it comes to his job and relationship with his wife. In other words, he is a typical guy in the 1950’s. During a boat ride he is covered by a mysterious mist. Weeks later he notices he is losing weight and statue. Everything but his immense ego begins to disappear. In a classic scene he is chased by the family cat and falls into the basement. There he encounters hunger, spiders, and a flood caused by a leaking water heater. We sit, guessing how he will regain his previous statue. But the rescue never comes. In the final scene the shrinking man accepts his new place within the universe and slips away into oblivion.

        Deb screamed at the TV. This was not the ending we expected. Movies, especially those produced in the 1950’s, are supposed to have happy endings. There should never be loose ends.  We anticipate the same thing from our Biblical stories. Yet this morning’s Easter account found in the gospel of Mark is not what we expect. “The women fled from the tomb, overcome by terror and amazement. They said nothing to anyone because they were afraid.”   End of story.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! In Matthew the disciples return to Galilee, meet Jesus on a hill and the resurrected Lord delivers the Great Commission. In Luke Jesus appears before unsuspecting folks on the Road to Emmaus. They only recognize him in the breaking of the bread. In John, Jesus meets Peter down by the lake and tells the disciple to, “Feed my sheep”. These endings represent the majesty of the resurrection.

        So what happened to Mark? Where is the pizzazz? Where is the proof that negates all doubt? The Gospels are supposed to be Good News. So why all the ambiguity?

        Lamar Williamson, one of my NT teachers, asks, “When is an ending not an ending? When a dead man rises from the dead and a gospel ends in mid sentence.” In the gospel of Mark three women come to the tomb to prepare the body of Jesus for a proper burial. They encounter a young man dressed in a white robe. He tells the woman that Jesus is notion the tomb. He is alive and waiting in Galilee to meet with the disciples.

        Somehow we expect the woman to say, “Hallelujah! We knew this was going to happen. We can’t wait to meet with the disciples and head to Nazareth.” Only that is not what is recorded in Mark.  They were terrified, scared out of their wits. They could handle death because they understood death. The crucifixion had placed a definitive closure on Jesus’ life. But these women were asked to believe a stranger who shared something beyond the scope of rational thought. Death had been conquered. Do you really think folks are ready to hear that kind of news?

I love the Easter story in Mark. It is the Gospel that ends without an ending. Oh I know if you go to Mark 16 you will find verses 9-16 which clear up the vagueness. But any scholar worth his or her salt will tell you those additional verses were added later by a different author. Mark’s account doesn’t tie up the loose ends. It doesn’t give us the closure we desire. Mark’s gospel leaves us speechless and terrified. Mark seeks to inform us the closure we desire will not from what we know, not from what we can prove, but rather from what we come to believe.

        Imagine being those women. They inherited the job of reporting their findings back to the disciples. Ever think about why the disciples weren’t the ones at to the grave. The answer is pretty easy. The disciples hid out as soon as the soldiers showed up for Jesus. Peter denied knowing the man. With one exception, none of the disciples witnessed the crucifixion. They were afraid. They figured they were on the top ten wanted list. They even sent the woman to the grave. Once they reported Jesus was properly buried, they planned to return back to Galilee and oblivion. Now the women, with only the word of a stranger, were told to tell these suspicious men Jesus was alive. What do they say?

        I think we all can understand their dilemma. A new couple has moved in next door. We drop by to meet them. They seem like wonderful folks. We tell them about the restaurants in the area. We share places they might shop. We talk about all wonderful cultural activities offered in the area. Then we invite them to Bold Rock. We sit by the fire and take in all the beautiful the scenery. Our new neighbors ask, “Where are some of the places you go socially?” Golf, bridge, fishing, hiking are mentioned. Then we dare to tread where few people have gone before. “We also attend Rockfish Presbyterian. It is filled with great folks. You will not believe the choir, it is amazing. The church is involved in many activities. There is the wood ministry, week-end food for kids, a garden which grows vegetables for the community, a knitting group, two book clubs, and all kind of other stuff. We have something for everyone. And then there is the minister. Don’t worry; he is not one of these religious types.” Yet most of us are uncomfortable saying, “Come to Rockfish Presbyterian where we celebrate the risen Lord.”

 What an awful accusation to make on Easter Sunday. But isn’t it true for many of us that we haven’t reached closure on what the resurrection means. We have our dogma, we know what we are supposed to think but deep down don’t many of us find the resurrection story a bit terrifying. I certainly hope so. If you are NOT afraid of making that kind of declaration, you might not understand what the statement actually means. I don’t think Jesus is all that interested in comfortable disciples who triumph in the light. Jesus wants faithful disciples who are willing to walk through the darkness. What on earth does that mean?

 It’s easy, particularly on Easter Sunday to declare, “Jesus is Alive.” The hard part is to ask the question, “So What?” Will the resurrection of Jesus get me to heaven? Or maybe more important, will the resurrection of Jesus make me like my neighbor? Will the resurrection of Christ end world hunger? Will the resurrection of Christ solve racism? When asked those questions I feel like the kid in the Liberty Insurance commercial asking his friend if he is holding a lug wrench. The kid responds, “Maybe.”

If all I have is a “Maybe”, why am I standing before you this morning? Because beyond what I can touch, beyond what I can see, beyond what I can prove, I believe there exists the imagination of God. Do we follow or do we flee? Do we spread the word or remain silent? If you are like me some days I think I know the answer. Others days the answer makes me feel so foolish. And yet we are still here.

        Ever get a song in your head and no matter how hard you try the song won’t disappear. It keeps coming back, often at the most inappropriate times. The song infuriates you, it overwhelms you and it just won’t stop. So we replace it with a happy tune. We want to be reminded that tomorrow the sun will be shinning, that somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly. We whistle our happy tune to keep us from thinking the plight of our neighborhood, or the struggles of a stranger. Ever notice how  happy tunes disintegrate in the face of darkness and chaos.Yet, when hope seems lost, the song we tried to banish, reappears.

        A couple of years ago Lee Goodrich introduced the choir to the hymn, This Joyful Easter Tide. There is nothing terribly exciting about the words but the tune is stuck in my head and it won’t go away. I’ll be in the hospital sitting with someone whose loved one is undergoing a difficult surgery. The hours of waiting are often horrific. Eventually there is nothing left to say. Then that song creeps into my mind.

        Last July I was standing with two fellow ministers on the streets of Charlottesville. We were assigned to try to keep the calm on that Saturday when the Klan came to town. It was hot, tempers were hotter and the rhetoric was blazing. I felt myself losing control when out of nowhere that crazy song started playing in my head.

        On Ascension Sunday, after church I am racing from Nellysford to Gloucester to be by my father’s side.   I get to West Point when the phone rings and Deb tells me dad has died. I pull of the side of the road and tears begin to flow. Once again that song poured into my heart.

        Does this prove the resurrection? Of course not. But that song has more than once penetrated the darkness of my soul, reminding this old fool of the imagination of God.

I will admit when engaged in a battle of intellect and wits concerning what happened on Easter morning sometimes I can only offer an unsatisfactory “Maybe.” I plead guilty to getting lost in the details. Yet beyond my ability to explain the unexplainable lies a creative force which I know never succumbs to fear, or chaos, or even death. In the midst of my darkness I start humming and my soul becomes calm, my vision sees beyond yesterday, and I discover the possibility of tomorrow.

“Can I prove it?         NO!

Do I believe it?

With all my frightened and confused heart.   

To God be the glory. Amen.