Mark 16:1-8
Only once do I recall hearing an Easter sermon based on the Easter narrative of the Gospel of Mark (chapter 16). That’s not really surprising, as Mark’s ending has often been regarded as incomplete and unsatisfying. Consider the way both Matthew and Luke fill out the story in their own gospels (Matthew 28; Luke 24), or the way Mark’s own story grew longer and longer in the history of its textual transmission. (The earliest reliable ending, at verse 8, received a variety of extensions.) But the unit for proclamation today is 16:1-8. Let the story end where it does!—which of course means the narrative ends in a way that only begins to open up possibilities, closes in a fashion so true to form for this gospel. Mark leaves us, at the end of the story, with hope, to be sure (along with fear and confusion), but also face to face with profound mystery. The God of Mark’s ending works in our world in ways that defy expectation and elude our every attempt at control.
Food for Thought
Mark’s readers observe as Mary Magdalene, Mary [mother?] of James, and Salome bring spices to the tomb on Easter morning to honor Jesus. (Do they know that an anonymous woman has already anointed him for burial, at least in his interpretation of her gesture [14:3–9]?) Like other “minor” characters in Mark who exemplify insight and faithfulness missing in the inner circle of disciples, these women step forward to extend devoted care to Jesus after his death. Thus they become the first to hear the good news of Jesus’ resurrection; they, not the twelve who fled in panic at the scene of Jesus’ arrest, are the faithful followers who must - beyond the narrative - have been the first to proclaim the Easter message.
Mark, though, withholds that report from the reader, leaving as a last impression not attentiveness to the word but fearful silence. But who are we to find fault with these women, whom fear reduces to silence as the gospel ends? Faced with God’s disruption of things as they are in this world, overcoming even death’s imperious final word to human life, their path — and ours — to joyful hope, to living faith, is neither swift nor easy. If there is hope for the future, it rests not on disciples’ insight and obedience but on Jesus’ fidelity to his promise (“He is going ahead of you to Galilee; you will see him there, as he told you” [v. 7]), and on God’s mighty reign, which continues, right to the end of the story, to transform and re-create in yeast-like, mustard-seed ways, full of mystery.
And that means Mark’s narrative ending does what this whole gospel does: it invites and evokes faith, openness to seeing God’s work in the world when our eyes can’t show it to us.
Sink Your Teeth into This!
Mark’s Easter story speaks powerfully to our time and culture. To be sure, Easter worship is festive and joyous, as it should be. Yet on this Easter with Mark’s gospel, may the proclamation of the gospel not be too easy and confident, lest we fail to notice the real obstacles to authentic faith in this narrative, and in our world. God is God, and that means despair yields to hope, life emerges from death.
And through our own encounters with the Risen Lord, our experiences of divine presence, we do come to know good news, but it is sometimes difficult to believe. So the last image of Mark’s gospel — fearful silence — gives us a crucial role to play. The message is now entrusted to us to proclaim, in our time. The burden, and delight, of witness now falls to us.
For further reading and reflection
Donald H. Juel, A Master of Surprise: Mark Interpreted (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 107–21.
Biographical Information
John Carroll is Harriet Robertson Fitts Memorial Professor of New Testament at Union-PSCE, where he has taught since 1992 and served as academic dean for nearly ten years. He is perhaps best known for his unique blend of music (trombone), sports (baseball) and humor (puns), although he hopes that his commentary-in-process on the Gospel of Luke (New Testament Library) will eventually compete with those identity markers.
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