April 24, 2011 | 4:00 p.m. | Easter Sunday

Easter without Jesus

Part of the Sermon Series
“Preaching through the Gospel of Mark”

John W. Vest
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Mark 16:1–8

For those of you joining us for the first time, today we are completing a sixteen-week sermon series preaching through the entirety of the book of Mark. We haven’t read every single verse, but we have followed closely the plot of Mark’s story of Jesus. The author of this Gospel—the oldest one in our New Testament—has been our guide and our companion as we have come to know the Jesus he tells us about.

The beginning of the good news about Jesus Christ, God’s Son, happened just as it was written about in the prophecy of Isaiah:

Look, I am sending my messenger before you. He will prepare your way, a voice shouting in the wilderness: “Prepare the way for the Lord; make his paths straight.” (Mark 1:1–3).

A man named John was “in the wilderness calling for people to be baptized to show that they were changing their hearts and lives and wanted God to forgive their sins” (Mark 1:4).

Everyone came to be baptized, including Jesus. When he was baptized, he “saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: ‘You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness’” ( Mark 1:10–11).

Led by the Spirit, Jesus went into the wilderness to fast and endure temptation. When he emerged, he “came into Galilee announcing God’s good news, saying, ‘Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news!’” (Mark 1:14–15).

He called disciples to follow him. He cast out demons and healed the sick. He stilled storms, walked on water, and multiplied loaves and fishes. He preached in the synagogues and out in the open. He ate with sinners, outcasts, and misfits. He taught in parables that were at the same time simple, profound, and enigmatic. Even his own family didn’t understand what he was doing. He attracted enemies as well as followers. He was challenged for his new teachings and radical ways, and he countered his critics with a sharp wit and piercing authority.

He did all of this in the northern part of Palestine, the region known as Galilee. After some time, he brought his disciples up to a place in the northern highlands and asked them, “Who do people say that I am?” After they responded with some of the various things they had been hearing, he asked them point blank, “And what about you? Who do you say that I am?” Peter, Jesus’ closest disciple, answered, “You are the Christ—the Messiah” (Mark 8:27–29).

From that point on the story took a dramatic change. They embarked on a journey southward toward the holy city of Jerusalem. Along the way, Jesus began to teach them about his particular messianic vision. Three times he predicted that he would be killed in Jerusalem but that God would bring him back to life. He brought Peter, James, and John up on a mountain and was transfigured before their eyes into something glorious and radiant. On the road, he continued to teach and heal.

At last he entered Jerusalem, riding on a colt while people sang, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Mark 11:9). He spoke challenging words about the fate of the holy temple and cryptic words about the times that were about to unfold. His conflict with the religious leaders of Jerusalem grew more and more heated until finally a plot was hatched to have him killed.

At a final meal with his disciples—his closest friends—he broke bread and said that it was his body. He shared with them a cup of wine and said that it was his blood poured out for many. In the end he was betrayed by one of these friends. He was arrested, tried, and sentenced to death. His disciples—his closest friends—denied knowing him and ran away.

He was crucified before the people of Jerusalem, the very people he longed to save. The charge against him read, “The king of the Jews.” After he died, he was buried in the tomb of a prominent council member. A stone was rolled against the entrance to the tomb. All that remained of his followers were a handful of faithful women.

This brings us to the conclusion of Mark’s story of Jesus, found in chapter 16. Listen to how this story ends.

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they could go and anoint Jesus’ dead body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they came to the tomb. They were saying to each other, “Who’s going to roll the stone away from the entrance for us?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away. (And it was a very large stone!) Going into the tomb, they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right side; and they were startled. But he said to them, “Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He isn’t here. Look, here’s the place where they laid him. Go, tell his disciples, especially Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you.” Overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. (Mark 16:1–8)

It’s an odd way to end the story, isn’t it?

We are conditioned to expect the story of Jesus to end in victory and triumph. It’s Easter! Christ is risen! Alleluia!

But there are no alleluias. We’re told that Jesus has risen, but no one sees him. All we have is an empty tomb. It is an Easter without Jesus. Instead of victory and triumph, we are left with terror, dread, and fear.

What kind of ending is this? What kind of Easter is this? It’s no wonder this text is never read on Easter. It’s no wonder this text never even appears in the lectionary.

Now if you were to open up your pew Bible, you would notice that there are in fact additional verses in Mark 16. But it is pretty much the consensus of biblical scholars that these verses were added later as Mark’s Gospel was shared and became scripture for the early church. Our earliest manuscripts stop where I stopped at verse 8. Quotations from early church leaders indicate that their versions of Mark ended where we ended. As best as we can tell, it seems most likely that Mark’s story of Jesus did in fact end in this odd way. It seems most likely that these additional verses were added by later Christians who simply could not fathom the story of Jesus ending in this way. Surely there were appearances of Jesus. Surely there was an ascension into heaven. Surely there was more than what Mark leaves us with.

But there wasn’t. This is all there is.

If I was trying to do justice to the brilliance of Mark’s story of Jesus, I would have simply ended there and stopped talking. Our best interpreters of Mark look for a meaning to this mysterious ending in the reactions it seems to elicit in those that hear it. Indeed, whatever it was that motivated someone to add an ending to Mark; whatever it was that motivated Matthew, Luke, and John to add numerous resurrection appearances to their own stories of Jesus; whatever it was that prompted these additions also leaves us unsettled. This is a story without a proper ending. It is an unfinished story.

But perhaps Mark’s unfinished story does the best job of making this more than a story by bringing us into the story in a way that doesn’t happen in these other accounts. Those other stories are there to believe or not believe. But Mark’s unfinished story invites you to participate.

Year after year we gather on Easter Sunday to recount the story of Jesus’ resurrection and his appearance to various eyewitnesses. But these eyewitnesses are as lost to history as the body of Jesus. Their stories are preserved by anonymous authors writing a generation or more after the events described. Truth be told, these stories are relatively easy to discredit. It is relatively easy to raise suspicion and doubt. These stories invite us in, they tantalize us with hope, but they leave us wanting. Why? Why should we believe those outrageous tales?

And even when we tell these stories really well—so well that we actually do believe them—do they truly change our lives? How long is it before the grandeur and pageantry of Easter morning is forgotten? Do we ride the high of Easter for an entire year? Or is it more like a month? A week? A few days? By the end of brunch?

On Easter morning, in a place like this, we blast our trumpets and sing our songs as if Jesus rising depends on it. We stand for the “Hallelujah Chorus” as if we are waiting for Jesus himself to appear, to come through those doors. But he doesn’t. He hasn’t. Maybe he won’t. Maybe he has something else in mind.

There is something about Mark’s version of Easter Sunday that seems more true to our actual experience. As the late theologian Bill Placher puts it, “A more confident story with better ‘closure’ would comport less well with faith that in its nature lacks confidence and closure, or it would not be faith” (William C. Placher, Mark—Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, p. 243). What do stories of a resurrected Jesus actually prove? If triumphal Easter stories are like a shot in the arm, Mark’s story is a dose of reality.

This story speaks to our own experience of faith. We too are people who have never seen the resurrected Jesus. We too are people who struggle with doubt and fear. We too are people who go from here and say nothing to anyone. Because of terror? Perhaps. There is indeed much to dread in our world. But also because of indifference. Also because we are distracted by trivialities. Also because we don’t have ears to hear Jesus’ message from the very beginning: “Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news!”

God’s kingdom is coming. In fact, it’s already here, emerging all around us. Change your hearts and lives and get on board. This is good news! Now is the time!

Like the women at Jesus’ empty tomb, we don’t see the resurrected Jesus. But it’s not as if we don’t experience the presence of Christ in our midst. In the baptism that we share with him, we participate in his life, death, and resurrection. In the bread broken and the cup poured out, we partake of his body and blood. And when we do that, we become the body of Christ in the world. Christ is real. Christ is present. Here with us. Here in us.

We know this. We experience this.

Now is the time!

Mark’s story of Jesus isn’t a story we tell and forget. It isn’t a story we pull out all the stops to celebrate and then let fade away. The unfinished story of Mark—the story of Easter without Jesus—is our story. And as an unfinished story, it presents us with a choice. Are we like the women who run away and don’t tell anyone? Are we like the disciples who deny Jesus and flee, not even bothering to show up? Are we like the one who betrays Jesus? Or is there another option?

Now is the time!

How is Jesus present in the world? We bring him there. We tell his story. We live his story—in water, in bread, in love.

“Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news!”

Friends, don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. But he isn’t here. Go, tell his disciples—tell the whole world. You will see him there, just as he told you.

Amen.