Isaiah 25:6-9
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.
Mark 16:1-8
When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint [Jesus’ body]. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” 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.
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When I was younger, one of my favorite things to check out from the library were Choose Your Own Adventure books. Anyone else remember those?
They looked like short chapter books, but the way it worked was that you’d start at the beginning. There’d be a premise, and the beginning of a story. Maybe you were walking through a strange forest or playing at the beach. And then something critical would happen. You’d find a treasure chest. Or a door. Or a strange piece of fruit. Or a fork in the path. And you’d have a choice:
“If you choose to take the right fork, turn to page 16. If you choose the left, turn to page 27.”
And you’d flip ahead to that page, and the story would continue, until another critical choice would pause the action, and you’d make another choice, and turn to another new page, and repeat this until you finally came to an ending.
There was an invitation implied with each page you turned: “The story is yet unfinished. The choice is yours. How will you keep the story going?”
When the women came to the tomb, they thought the story was over. Jesus had been executed. He had breathed his last. He had been buried.
All that was left was for them to come and tend to his body.
But when they arrived at the tomb, nothing was as they expected.
The stone, far too heavy for them to move, had already been rolled away. Jesus was not in the tomb, but a young man in a white robe was there, sent as a messenger from God. And he spoke words to them that were the very words their hearts longed to hear, but also, the very words that were too good and too unprecedented to feel true: “He has been raised; he is not here.”
The women are given instructions to go find the disciples, and to tell them that Jesus is going on ahead of them to Galilee, and that they will see him there.
And the women, overwhelmed with amazement and terror, as any of us would be in that moment, leave the tomb, silent, heading who-knows-where to do who-knows-what.
This is where the gospel of Mark cuts off.
He doesn’t tell us what the women do next, whether they eventually break their silence and talk to the disciples, whether they head to Galilee and see the risen Jesus for themselves, whether they dance or cry or pray; Mark doesn’t say anything about Jesus and the disciples reuniting, and he doesn’t say anything about Jesus’s ascension. He doesn’t write a nice, tidy conclusion to his gospel, exhorting or encouraging his listeners.
If we’re looking for closure, Mark’s gospel isn’t going to give it to us.
But maybe Mark’s open-ended gospel is precisely the gospel we need right now.
One of the reasons that this past year of pandemic has been so exhausting and so disorienting is that we have been stranded without closure. We have sheltered in place and social distanced and masked up and waited to get on a vaccination list, and it’s been all open-ended uncertainty. Lack of closure, and lack of knowledge about when closure will come.
Grief is disorienting like this as well, coming in waves, without a predictable timeline or path.
We yearn for closure. We want a foothold. A sign. Anything that gets us to a natural and satisfying ending of this chapter of our story.
But when closure hasn’t come for us, Mark’s gospel meets us where terror and amazement and silence linger, where the story is still open-ended, where there are still pages left to be turned.
The women leave the tomb, and the story trails off. And that leaves the story of the resurrection lingering with us, nagging at us, working its way into our hearts.
Mark doesn’t finish the story, because the work is not yet done. Resurrection is not over and in the past. It’s not a closed story.
The story of resurrection continues, past the women at the tomb, past the disciples, past the first churches, through the generations, and onward through our lives.
The end of Mark’s gospel offers an invitation to us: “The story is yet unfinished. The choice is yours. How will you keep the story going? How is God writing the story of resurrection through you?”
How are you going from the empty tomb to bring life into this world?
There are lots of ways to do it.
Sending cards to neighbors and elders who are lonely.
Making a double batch of dinner and bringing a meal to a friend.
Listening without judgment when someone needs to pour out their heart.
Caring for other people’s children.
Healing bodies and spirits as you are blessed to do so.
Donating to advocacy groups.
Marching for a cause.
Leading with compassion in all your interactions.
Tending to our natural world with care and reverence.
These are all acts of resurrection.
Each of them leads us closer to the end that God is preparing for us - that image from Isaiah of a grand feast for all people, death swallowed up forever, tears wiped away, the earth restored, God with us, salvation and rejoicing.
Meanwhile, by God’s help, we are the ones turning the pages and advancing the story and trusting the Spirit through all the twists and turns left to come. The story is not over. The pulse of resurrection beats on, in our hearts and in our lives.
Sara Miles, in her book Jesus Freak, writes, “Raising the dead? This is what Christians do every Sunday, after all, when we stand around in our boring churches, eating little wafers or pieces of whole wheat pita, saying aloud that Christ is risen. It’s what we do whenever we continue in simple, literal acts: breaking bread, praying without hope of perfect outcomes, admitting our weaknesses, and loving people who don’t deserve it. It’s what we do when we remember that death is not the end.” (164-5)
She continues, “Jesus is real, and so, praise God, so are we. Every single thing the resurrected Jesus does on earth he does through our bodies. You’re fed, you’re healed, you’re forgiven, you’re pronounced clean. You are loved, and you’re raised from the dead. Go and do likewise.” (166)
Go and do likewise.
This is the invitation that Easter extends to each of us.
Having peered into the empty tomb, what will you do next? How will you take your terror and your amazement alike, and go into the world looking for the risen Christ who goes ahead of you? How will you let God bring resurrection into the world through you? What is the story that God is writing on your heart and through you for the sake of the world?
As a blessing for this waiting time between Christ’s resurrection and our own, and as a benediction for the terror and amazement that accompany you from the empty tomb and back out into the world, hear these words from poet Lucille Clifton, entitled, “spring song.”
the green of Jesus
is breaking the ground
and the sweet
smell of delicious Jesus
is opening the house and
the dance of Jesus music
has hold of the air and
the world is turning
in the body of Jesus and
the future is possible
All who have been baptized into Christ’s death and raised from the waters;
All who have planted prayers for healing and forgiveness at the foot of the cross
All who have entered the shadow of the tomb;
All who have encountered divine mystery beyond comprehension;
All who are ready to be amazed by new and renewed life:
You are the ones through whom the story of resurrection continues.
Go, therefore, into all the world.
And bring it to life.
Sara Miles, in her book Jesus Freak, writes, “Raising the dead? This is what Christians do every Sunday, after all, when we stand around in our boring churches, eating little wafers or pieces of whole wheat pita, saying aloud that Christ is risen. It’s what we do whenever we continue in simple, literal acts: breaking bread, praying without hope of perfect outcomes, admitting our weaknesses, and loving people who don’t deserve it. It’s what we do when we remember that death is not the end.” (164-5)
She continues, “Jesus is real, and so, praise God, so are we. Every single thing the resurrected Jesus does on earth he does through our bodies. You’re fed, you’re healed, you’re forgiven, you’re pronounced clean. You are loved, and you’re raised from the dead. Go and do likewise.” (166)
Go and do likewise.
This is the invitation that Easter extends to each of us.
Having peered into the empty tomb, what will you do next? How will you take your terror and your amazement alike, and go into the world looking for the risen Christ who goes ahead of you? How will you let God bring resurrection into the world through you? What is the story that God is writing on your heart and through you for the sake of the world?
As a blessing for this waiting time between Christ’s resurrection and our own, and as a benediction for the terror and amazement that accompany you from the empty tomb and back out into the world, hear these words from poet Lucille Clifton, entitled, “spring song.”
the green of Jesus
is breaking the ground
and the sweet
smell of delicious Jesus
is opening the house and
the dance of Jesus music
has hold of the air and
the world is turning
in the body of Jesus and
the future is possible
All who have been baptized into Christ’s death and raised from the waters;
All who have planted prayers for healing and forgiveness at the foot of the cross
All who have entered the shadow of the tomb;
All who have encountered divine mystery beyond comprehension;
All who are ready to be amazed by new and renewed life:
You are the ones through whom the story of resurrection continues.
Go, therefore, into all the world.
And bring it to life.