Reading 20: A Silent Dawn

Read Mark 16: 1-8

Early morning is my favorite time of day. Everything seems fresh and new, the air filled with a great variety of birdsong in my little corner of the world, and people sounds have not yet begun. Usually I awaken with an eagerness to see what the day will bring, as well as an overwhelmIng gratitude for another day of life.

For the three women in this passage form Mark, however, this early morning was likely tear-filled and somber. The sun had not yet risen and after a mournful and likely sleepless night, they were going to the place where their dear friend and teacher, Jesus, had been hastily placed before the Sabbath without proper burial preparation. And so they had taken it upon themselves to perform this last loving deed for one who had meant so much to them.

Though they had been worrying about the large stone at the tomb’s entrance, they found it already rolled back. And as they entered the tomb, a young man in white greeted them, telling them that Jesus was no longer there, that he had been raised and was going ahead of them to Galilee. “Tell the disciples” the young man said. And Mark tells us that the women fled in terror and said nothing to anyone.

Here is where the earliest versions of this gospel end. Full stop. No resurrection appearances. Nothing but silence. A very loud silence caused by fear, by the difficulty in believing news so amazing, so out of the ordinary, so unbelievably miraculous that silence was the response of the women. And how well I understand that silence.

Have you ever remained silent out of fear when you should have spoken out?

Why do you think later versions of Mark added verses 9-20? Which ending do you prefer? Why?

Grant us courage, God of grace and wisdom, to speak truth when it needs to be spoken. Continue to open our minds and hearts to the endless possibilities of life in your beloved world and to new life, in the name of Jesus, the risen Christ. Amen.

A proud seventy-six, I am blessed to be a retired pastor, the mother of four and grandmother of nine, a friend to many and a newly-reactivated activist. I write (not nearly enough), read (way too much), demonstrate (occasionally), and relish time with family and friends.