Easter Meditation

Mark 16:1-8;

 

Something seems to be missing in the original testimony to the resurrection found in the gospel of Mark.  It ends with the abrupt statement, “They fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them. They said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. THE END.” No Jesus. No breakfast on the beach. No road to Emmaus. No walking through doors or ascension from The Mountain. Just three speechless women fleeing in terror.

This ending was so unsatisfactory to some members of the early church, ten new verses were eventually added which included appearances by the resurrected Lord. But I suspect the original writer of Mark wished they had left his story alone. From Mark’s perspective that one verse captures the very mystery of this day we call Easter.

Mark is the shortest of the Four Gospels.  While probably not the first testimony about Jesus, it is the oldest that has survived.  What distinguishes Mark from the other gospels is Mark never expands on any story; everything happens with a sense of urgency; and the identity of Jesus is never obvious to the folks closest to him.

The Gospel opens with the Baptism of Jesus where a voice from heaven declares, “You are my Son.” Before people have a chance to react to this proclamation, immediately Jesus is rushed into the wilderness. He is tempted to be less than what God has already affirmed him to be. After an eternity of darkness, Jesus returned to the light and said, “The kingdom of God has come, follow me.”

 Everyone fell silent, wondering what to do next.

The Gospel ends with the crucifixion. A Centurion looks upon the corpse and declares, “This man was God’s Son.” Immediately Jesus was rushed into the tomb. There was not even time to prepare his body. After what must have seemed an eternity of darkness an angel declared, “The kingdom of God has come. Follow Him.”

Again, everyone fell silent, wondering what to do next.

(stop)

When a person becomes an elder at Rockfish Presbyterian, during their examination by the session the person is asked to give a statement of faith. You are an interesting group of people and your faith journeys reflect this. Some folks will begin by telling a story similar to mine by stating, “I was raised in a Christian home and can never remember not going to church.”

Others have said, “I was raised in a Christian home but the Church rejected me and tried to change that part of me that God has created.”

Some have remarked they were drawn to Church when a friend or family member had suggested it might be a place they could find an inviting community.

Some have discovered comfort in the traditional concept of God. Some have confided struggling with orthodox practices, discovering God in places many of us have never looked. Without exception, be it as a child, or as an adult, each of our elders acknowledges that someone said to them, “This man Jesus was the Son of God.”

Our faith was inspired by the faith of others. This brief inspiration was not the end but the beginning of our journey.  For many of our elders, and I suspect for many of you, our road has been filled with both light and darkness making Easter a joyful yet complex moment.

This Easter morning we fill this holy place with a joyful noise as we faithfully sing, “Alleluia, Christ has Risen.”  Might I suggest before one experiences resurrection, there must first be death, and often death will leave us silent.

Death comes in many forms. While it can be the death of a family member or friend, it can also be the death of a dream, or the death our innocence, or the death of our very being. Jesus was not the first nor will Jesus be the last to walk into the wilderness, or as the Psalmist refers to it, “the valley of the shadow of death.” When we are in the light, we can faithfully believe Psalm 23’s promise of God’s presence. But in the darkness, sometimes all we hear is silence.

I had a dear friend, a retired minister who faithfully sat in church almost every Sunday of my twelve years in San Angelo. Fred had been the minister at St Paul’s before I arrived. He was a remarkable man who suffered from polio as a child, recovered and flew bombers in World War II. When his plane was shot down, he parachuted to safety only to spend the rest of the war in a German prison camp.  On returning home he became a successful insurance agent until, as Fred liked to say, “I started selling a permanent life insurance.” He became ordained, resurrected a wonderful church in San Angelo and then had a reoccurrence of polio. During his last years of ministry Fred used crutches to take him anywhere and everywhere he wanted to go.

Fred hated Holy Week. His favorite song was “Every Sunday is Easter Sunday.” He fully believed God would get everyone through life and death, and Fred had the track record to prove it. Fred was a terrific role model, but he struggled with the failure of others. He was constantly in denial when it came to the problems of his children and grandchildren. His wife Peggy was a saint. Defeat was left on her plate to digest. As Peggy struggled with reality, Fred would always find ways to make “his truth” palatable.

There was nothing about the idea of the cross Fred liked. To Fred, God was all powerful and the cross was a symbol of weakness. It was an obstacle Jesus overcame proving obstructions are simply something to be conquered. Resurrection is the prize at the end of the journey.

Imagine Fred’s dismay when I arrived preaching about a God who not only suffers with humanity but a God who either cannot or will not end human pain. Imagine what he thought when I preached God did not desire the cross for Jesus but neither did God eliminate it. Imagine what he thought when I preached God painfully tolerates sin, and power, and corruption.  Imagine what he thought when I preached God weeps at the destruction of human innocence. Imagine what he thought as I preached on Easter God silently retrieved the shattered pieces of his son and made something holy out of death.  

Fred came from the school that taught if you believe, God will take care of you. Fred understood resurrection to be the final proof that God had triumphed over death. I believe that also, in an eternal sense. But the resurrection of Jesus has had little effect on the continual disruption of life by our species deadly and immoral behavior.  

What a depressing message to hear on Easter Sunday! Yet imagine being one of those women at the grave of Jesus. They gave three years of their life following him. They witnessed the miracles, listened to the parables and went so far as to believe maybe he was the Messiah.

Then he was arrested. Then he was executed. They were in indescribable pain. They were alone. Then suddenly they were startled by an unknown voice that said, “Do not be afraid. Jesus is alive. Follow Him!”  

Is it any wonder the women became silent?

A loved one dies and the burden is more than you can bear. A friend says, “It’s OK, she is in a better place.”

Is there a better response than silence?

For years you have put all your energy and resources into a new venture. You did everything right but suddenly the dream was gone. You hear, “You did the best you could.”

Is there a more appropriate response than silence?

At the end of five months you are beginning to believe this time you will reach full term. Then something goes terribly wrong and once again the pregnancy is terminated. The doctor says, “At least you are still healthy.”

The only sane response is silence.

Many of you have survived both physical and spiritual forms of death. You have witnessed and you believe in resurrections. But you know those resurrections didn’t come without pain and soul searching and time and silence.

The cross is proof that God is not in the business of protecting us from harm, no matter how good we are. Jesus was perfect and he was still crucified. God is in the business of restoring us to life but restoration can be a painful. In our anger we break the silence by screaming. God hears our cries. God recognizes our ache because God knows how the world can destroy that which is sacred.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “When God speaks it is not from some safe place outside of human suffering but from the very heart of it. When God speaks it is in response to the howl of a son on the cross and the howl of God’s children in the midst of pain and death.”

We are not supposed to romanticize suffering. In fact I believe God urges us to hate suffering and do everything in our power to bring it to an end. But we cannot avoid suffering and pain and death. That is not one of the choices.       Horrible, unimaginable things happen to people, not because they are bad, not because they don’t believe but simply because sometimes we are at the hands of an individual or a mob that chooses crucifixion over life.

(stop)

Three frightened, silent women received the word that Jesus was alive. Three frightened, silent women stood at what they believed to be the final resting place of their loved one. They could have remained frightened. They could have remained silent. But they desired life over death. They JOYFULLY screamed about what they had seen and heard.

Resurrection is about life over death. You know that.  But resurrection is also about breaking silence. When God is silent, people cry out. When people cry out, God hears. That is when healing and restoration and resurrections begin.

                                                                        Amen.