Rolling Away the Stone: An Easter Sermon on Mark 16

Let’s be honest, Mark’s account of the resurrection that we read in our Gospel today is probably the least dramatic, least satisfying account that we get in any of the four gospels.  In Matthew, for instance, as the women approach the tomb there is a great earthquake, and an angel descends from heaven before their very eyes, singlehandedly rolling back the stone before sitting on top of it to declare to the women that Jesus had been raised.  And as the women are returning from the tomb-- full of joy and excitement-- they run into Jesus himself, and they fall to the ground to worship him.  In Luke and in John we find similarly dramatic details.  And in every other gospel except for Mark, the discovery of the empty tomb is followed by a number of appearances of the resurrected Jesus, who arrives on the scene to offer hope and instruction to his grieving and bewildered disciples.

But not in Mark.  In Mark’s gospel, this is all we get.  The whole of Mark’s gospel ends with the phrase: “and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”  Not exactly the most inspiring or uplifting or empowering ending.  “And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

Now some of you who read your bibles often might say, “wait a minute, I could have sworn that there was more there— aren’t there actually ten more verses after this?”  And in fact it is true that most bibles will include an additional ten verses after this morning’s text, which does describe a few appearances of the risen Christ.  However, most bibles will also have a note somewhere— albeit sometimes in very small print-- informing the careful reader that verses 9-19 are part of the “longer ending” of Mark, an ending whose authenticity is actually hotly contested.

It’s a little bit of an uncertain thing, but what we know for certain is that the oldest, most reliable Greek manuscripts of Mark do not include the longer ending.  This has led many of the most well respected biblical scholars to conclude that the author of Mark did originally intend to end his gospel exactly where we ended our reading this morning— the women leaving the tomb in fear and amazement, with no clear instruction on what to do next.  No earthquakes.  No dramatic appearances of Jesus to his disciples.  Just three women standing in front of an empty tomb.

So the question is, why did Mark end his gospel this way?  We know that Mark’s gospel was probably written around 60 or 70 AD, so even though it’s the earliest of the gospel accounts, it was certainly written late enough that people would have already known the stories about Jesus’ appearances to his disciples after his death.  In fact those stories would have been passed down through oral tradition for at least 30 or 40 years before Mark’s Gospel was written down.  Mark certainly would have known those stories.  He would have known them very well.  So why did he choose to leave them out?  Why did he end things on such uncertain terms?  What exactly was he trying to say?

While we can never really know for certain the original intent of the gospel writers, I like to imagine that Mark had something very specific in mind in ending things the way that he did.  Rather than skipping ahead to the certainty that comes with actually seeing Christ risen from the grave, perhaps Mark wanted his readers to sit a little while longer with the uncertainty and complexity of it all.  I like to imagine that Mark didn’t want us to rush through the story too quickly, because he knew that in life, after we experience great loss or disappointment, we need to dwell a little while in our grief and uncertainty before we can truly move forward.

In subsequent weeks we will have plenty of opportunities to read about and reflect upon some of the post-resurrection encounters that Jesus has with his disciples.  But for today, let’s follow Mark’s lead, and let’s dwell for just a moment with these three women-- standing at the edge of uncertainty—at the edge of an abyss-- in the face of the empty tomb.  

To aid us in our reflection this morning, I want to start us off with the words of a song.  It’s a song by a band called Mumford and Sons.   Now they are by no means a Christian band-- I actually have no idea what their religious views might be.  But there is a song on their most recent album that every time I hear it, in fact since the very first time I heard it, it makes me think of this story from the gospel of Mark.  The song is called— quite appropriately for our purposes this morning— “Roll Away Your Stone.”  The opening lines of the song go like this:   

  

"Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine.  Together we will see what we will find.  Don’t leave me alone at this time.  Cause I’m afraid of what I will discover inside.”

To me, this pretty much sums up exactly where we find ourselves with Mark’s gospel this morning.  The women approaching the empty tomb, finding the stone rolled away, and afraid of what they might discover inside—afraid of what it all might mean.  

So the next question we have to ask ourselves this morning, as we dwell with these women in front of the empty tomb, is why?  Why were they afraid?  Why did the sight of the stone rolled away and the looming empty tomb frighten them so much?  

Perhaps it’s because they were in shock.  After all they had just experienced an incredibly traumatic event-- they had just witnessed their beloved teacher and friend executed in one of the most brutal ways imaginable.  Their hopes and dreams had been completely crushed.  Perhaps they just couldn’t take in any more new information.  And so the news that Jesus was risen, coming from a total stranger, was just too much for them to process in that moment.  Maybe that’s why they were afraid.

Or perhaps, standing there with the truth of the resurrection before them, they were confronted with the reality that everything was about to change.  Their entire lives were about to be turned upside down.  They stood in front of that empty tomb with the knowledge that their lives would never be the same.  And that is always a frightening proposition.

Karl Rahner is a 20^th century German theologian who said: “we must avoid the misunderstanding that resurrection is a return to life and existence in time and space as we know it.”  In other words, resurrection changes things.  For those women at the tomb, this was a lot to wrap their minds around. When the women left their homes early that morning, it was almost as if they already expected defeat.  The gospel tells us that as they made their way to the tomb, they asked each other, “who will roll away the stone for us?”  It’s almost as if they were just going through the motions— still numb with grief, going to the tomb to anoint the body because they knew they should, but half expecting to have to turn around and go home once they got there because they would be unable to gain access to the body.  But then the women encountered something at the tomb they did not expect.  And as it turns out, they weren’t actually prepared for the stone to be rolled away.  Perhaps they didn’t really want it to be.  And who can blame them for that, really?  They weren’t prepared for their lives to be turned upside down-- yet again.  They weren’t prepared for the kind of change that resurrection inevitably brings with it.  And so they fled in fear, unsure of what to do or how to react.

Isn’t that sometimes how it goes with us as well?  How often do we encounter the possibility for something new in our lives, but we aren’t ready for it, and so we run from it in fear?  We look the other way, or head the opposite direction.  We aren’t ready to let go of what was in order to accept what may be— to roll back the stone and discover what’s inside-- because we cling to what is familiar, even if what is familiar doesn’t always serve us very well.  

Resurrection changes things.  And so the final question all of us have to ask ourselves this Easter is where are the stones that need to be rolled away in our own lives?  What do we need to let go of-- what are we afraid to let go of-- in order for resurrection to occur?  In order for God’s light and new life to break through— in order to follow where the risen Christ is leading us here and now?

Here is the thing.  If you are sitting there in your pew this morning, and you aren’t really sure what you think of this whole resurrection business-- if you are fearful of what all this resurrection talk might really mean—or if you are skeptical about whether or not there really is new life to be found for you or for this world-- well that’s okay.  Because if nothing else, we learn from the ending of Mark’s gospel that it’s okay to be afraid and uncertain-- especially in the face of loss or grief or great change.  The women in Mark’s gospel were afraid.  They went home and didn’t say a word to anyone.  We will hear in the weeks to come about how the other disciples were afraid as well— about how they abandoned their mission, how they locked themselves up inside, how they didn’t believe.  It’s okay to be afraid.  It’s okay to be uncertain.  As long as at some point we are willing to step out of our fear-- to encounter what is in the tomb in order to see what lies beyond it.

Admittedly, that can be a difficult thing to do, because as the song says— who knows what we will discover inside.  One of the things I love about the song by Mumford and Sons is the genius of the opening instrumentation.  The song starts with this beautiful lilting folk melody— first on solo acoustic guitar then as a duet between guitar and violin.  Then a single voice comes in-- singing softly-- “Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine.”  But the moment the lead singer utters the words  “I’m afraid of what I will discover inside,” all musical propriety goes out the window.  Guitar, bass, keyboards, banjo-- all playing fast and loud with complete and utter abandon.  It’s as if once the stone has been rolled away the floodgates open and chaos ensues.  Sometimes, that’s what happens when the stone is rolled away.  Because resurrection changes things.

So it’s natural to be afraid.  Mark lets us know this.  But there is also good news found within Mark’s version of the story— as uncertain as it may be.  The good news here is that while we may need to roll away the stone in order to experience resurrection, we don’t actually have to do the heavy lifting ourselves.  God does that.  When we are finally ready to roll the stone away, to believe in the resurrection power of our God and follow where God wishes to lead us, we may just find— like the woman at the tomb— that God has already rolled back the stone for us.  The woman arrive at the tomb that morning to find that even in the midst of, and even in spite of their doubt and fear, God had already been at work.  The good news written between the lines of Mark’s version of the story is that resurrection happens with or without our belief.  With or without our striving, with or without our effort, resurrection happens.  In spite of our frailty, our weakness, our fear, our sinfulness, and in spite of our inability to roll away the stone on our own, resurrection happens.  We don’t have to make it happen, will it to happen, or force it to happen.  God does that.  And then, when we are ready, we can look beyond the stone that God has already rolled back for us, and see what new life waits for us there beyond it.

This morning, when you walked into the church, you received a small stone.  I’m going to ask you to take that stone out now, hold it in your hand, and close your eyes.  Notice how the stone feels.  Notice if it’s smooth or rough.  Turn it over in your hand, feel the weight of it.  And as you do, think about the stones that need to be rolled away in your life.  Think about the places where God might be calling you to something new.  Think about the weight that God may be trying to lift from your shoulders.  Can you let it go?

In a moment, I’m going to invite all of you to make your way up to the front of the church to place your stone on the table at the chancel steps, to symbolize your willingness to look beyond the tomb-- to recognize where God is calling you to seek new life and resurrection.  Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine.  And together, we will see what we will find.  Let us begin.