Just After Sunrise

Mark 16.1-8   When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”  But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’” Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

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You know, sometimes the aftermath of a horrible scene can be strangely quiet.  I think that’s how it was in the early morning, after the Sabbath, when the women walked to the tomb to tend to the body of Jesus.  It was just after dawn, earlier than it is now.  I’m sure there were other people up and working – fetching water, preparing food, caring for livestock and all the things that people had to do.  It was an ordinary day – yet it was anything but an ordinary day.

And in spite of the activity, it seemed very quiet – in contrast to the violence of the Friday before.  Some of his followers had fled, some of them were in hiding.  All of them feared for their lives.

It was the women who were out, unlike the others, because first of all, it was women’s work to tend the bodies of loved ones who died, but also, because they were women and not men they were in less danger.

The men knew that, as followers of Jesus – a convicted, crucified criminal – their own lives were in danger too.  Were they not accomplices to whatever crime he had committed?  There was reason for them to be afraid.

But as the women walked toward the tomb, fretting about how they would get the stone moved out of the way, and as the men who were still laying low discussed what their next moves might be, none of them knew how everything they anticipated, everything they feared, everything they grieved was about to change.

The teacher they had followed and loved, but hadn’t fully comprehended, was not there in the tomb where they had laid him on Friday.  The strange young man who was there waiting for the women when they arrived, an angel, told them he had risen from the dead and would be waiting for them in Galilee – the place where it had all begun.  Go, tell the others, the angel said to the women.  Then go to Galilee and see Jesus.

Putting ourselves in their place, and all that they had been through, can you imagine?  We went through Maundy Thursday last week; we shared the remembrance of his last meal with his disciples and we told the story of his betrayal and arrest, his crucifixion and death – it was all heart-wrenchingly terrifying and sad, wasn’t it?  But imagine the way it was for Mary, for Peter, for James, for John?

Is it any wonder, really, that the women turned and fled in terror, and spoke to no one?

Have you ever been so terrified you couldn’t speak?

We know that they didn’t remain mute for too long.  We know that the word of Christ’s resurrection spread pretty quickly, that they did see him again on more than one occasion, and that the number of those who believed and followed Christ grew like wildfire.  We know these things, and they are the reason we are here today.  After the terror and the death there would come a time when people could say Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed!  He is the risen Lord.  Hallelujah!  Amen!

But in that early morning quiet, just after dawn, there was uncertainty and fear.  And silence. 

And there still is.

We have our moments of uncertainty, when we are not sure that the strength Jesus gives is enough for our weakness.  We have our moments of fear, when in spite of the assurances we have been taught from the church that nothing can separate us from Christ and his love, we still feel very much alone.  We have our moments of silence, when instead of proclaiming Christ, crucified and risen, with our words and our actions, our hearts and our eyes, we withhold this good news.  And not sharing it is the same as not having it.

The words the angel said to the women are words for us as well.  We must tell the others.  We must go out into the world and follow Jesus, who has gone ahead of us.  We must follow and obey him and then we will see him.

Mark leaves the story open … unfinished.  He leaves room for us to enter into it.  Hear the angel saying to you – He is risen!  Go and tell the others, and all of you – all of us – let us follow him!