This might sound a bit weird, but only in the last year or so, I discovered the joys of going to the movies. Ask my husband and kids which screen I prefer, and they will roll their eyes and talk about my addiction to watching Star Trek reruns on TV. And for the record: they are correct. Currently I’m enjoying Captain Catherine Janeway and her crew onboard the Voyager finding their way back to the Alpha Quadrant. Again. They make it, of course. Every time. There are no surprises, plus: there is a happy ending. Some find this ridiculously boring. Others find it soothing. If you know, you know…
But like I said, I have also been going to the movies lately. The last movie I saw my husband Cory, who loves movies, suggested it for us. It is a movie about the true story of Mother Cabrini, an Italian immigrant and nun. If ever there was a movie description that would make me go to the movies, this clearly is it! Cory knows me well. And the movie did not disappoint. I can highly recommend it and I will not give you any spoilers. Only this important one: there is a happy ending. In real life. Mother Cabrini was a force of nature that simply could not be stopped, not even by the pope. Alright, another little spoiler… Her life makes for a great story!
We love a good story. In fact, stories are everywhere. Stories we store in books and movies, like the fairy tales collected by the Grimm Brother’s or the imaginative works of Tolkien. Or much further back to Homer’s Iliad. Humankind and stories go hand in hand. There are so many forms of stories, like the stories of our origin, for example, that just fascinate us. We can now analyze our DNA to find out where our ancestors hailed from. Sometimes the stories of origin told in a family are proven true and they are Irish not only on St. Patrick’s Day. Other times, people are surprised to find out that they are not actually related to King Henry the 8th like great grandma claimed every Christmas after a cup or two of eggnog. What a plot twist!
We love and we live stories. Stories we share with our family at the dinner table about our day. Stories about our family we share with a friend over a steaming hot cup of tea. Stories we share around the campfire. In fact, I can imagine that the safety, the warmth, and light of a campfire is ground zero, is the origin of stories. Families and tribes gathered around it and told and retold their stories of origin, their stories of survival and their stories of hope.
And of course, their stories about God. Some of them, now in written form, we heard today at this Easter Vigil. Talk about re-runs. And before this service begins, we light a fire. Not a campfire, we call it the New Fire. Kindling this New Fire with flint and stone begins in the darkness. Like the campfire, this New Fire is a source of warmth and light. And of course, it symbolizes the victory of Christ over the darkness of death. By the safety of this light, we heard about the world’s loving creation in the origin story of Genesis. We heard the triumphant survival story of Exodus, ending in jubilant song and dance. Ezekiel’s story of hope assures us that no bone is too dry and hoping in our life-giving God is never in vain. Zephaniah tells us about the grace and joys of a faithful life. Paul writes about the resurrection story in his letter to the Romans, assuring them of Jesus’ defeat over death. All these stories are reassuring, they leave us feel satisfied. They have closure. Every good story has closure, right?
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.
This is how Mark ends the story, this is how Mark ends the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The added ending we heard tonight is only one of two attempts to provide a more satisfying ending to this Gospel much later, around the fourth century. We really crave and need closure it seems. We couldn’t bear to have just one of the Gospels end with less than the perfect human happy end. We like our endings tidy, with a nice ribbon around. Closure.
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.
These three women, Mary Magdalene, Mary, and Salome stayed at Jesus’ side not only during his ministry, but throughout his Passion, throughout his public and humiliating death. They never denied Jesus, they never flinched. These three disciples were there when the guards beat him. They witnessed people spitting on him, mocking him, and stripping him naked. Mary Magdalene, Mary and Salome did not run when the thorns dug into Jesus’ skull and the cross was put on his bleeding back and shoulders to carry to his death. They were present; they held vigil at the cross. They cried as he died slowly and in agony. They knew where Jesus was buried because they were there.
Now, they make their way to this tomb where they know Jesus is buried. They want to honor their friend and teacher one last time, and for that reason they bring fragrant spices to anoint him with. The fragrance of the spice mixed with oil is in anticipation of a decomposing body. They watched him die. His death is undeniable. They approach his tomb with the heaviest of hearts, steeled for the sacred but painful task ahead.
I wonder how long it took for the sight to make sense. The stone is moved, the tomb open. How long did these three sisters in faith stand and stare in utter silence before they could move again? What happened? Did someone steal the body of their beloved teacher to deny him dignity even in death? This is simply more than they can take. This breaks them. They run frantically inside the tomb. Hoping against hope, that Jesus’ body would be there. Instead, a complete stranger greets them. Dressed in white or not, an unfamiliar face at this time just proves their worst fears have come true. So, we must wonder how much of what this nice young man dressed in white says actually gets through to them? He says: do not be alarmed, but let’s be real, whoever did actually calm down after the words: calm down? The young man, we can presume him to be an angel, was giving them good news. Jesus is risen! But what does that sound like in the middle of a panicked breakdown?
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.
That sounds about right. This is the stark reality of grief, the stark reality of death. It does not sound nice. It does not sound tidy. There is no ribbon, no satisfying end, no closure. Like it or not, this is where the human story ends. Death is the ultimate end. No human, no matter how powerful escapes it. Death is not only ultimate, but it is also the ultimate equalizer. Nothing is as sure; nothing is as final and unknowable to us as death. Of course they were afraid. Of course this is how the story ends. They are only human.
It is not how God’s story ends. To God, death, God’s own death, instead of being the end, instead of even being an obstacle to overcome, to God, death is a tool. Jesus did not need a throne, an army, or political power. What use would he have of these human and empty symbols of power, when he can overcome the cross, the symbol of our ultimate defeat? And not just overcome death, but use it, wield it like a fine instrument to bring about our salvation. Only through dying a mortal death could Jesus make the divine resurrection known to us. Only through Jesus ‘death are we aware of the divine story that God invites and desires for us to live into. Without death, no resurrection. Without resurrection? No life, no story beyond our own. Our lives are small and short stories, maybe we manage a ribbon, maybe we have tidy little closures, maybe if we’re very lucky. But they are small, our lives. The stories that we love and live are small and human. The story of our Gospel today, with its lack of closure leaves an opening, invites us into the divine story. Mark acknowledges our human fears and without taking away from God’s story leaves the ending open for us.
What does come after fear? Mark intended to leave this choice up to us.
We love and we live stories. Let’s risk not having our nice and tidy closure. Afraid or not, let’s live into God’s never-ending story into the life and death of Jesus Christ who is risen, the Lord is risen indeed. Allelujah!