Darkness, despair and death turned to light, hope and life
Readings: Mark 16. 1-8
The Resurrection narrative in Mark can feel like a bit of an anti-climax. Jesus doesn’t appear, there’s no reunion with any of the disciples. The women come to the tomb, find that it’s empty and a young man dressed in white tells them Jesus is alive. They leave the tomb trembling and bewildered, do they believe this? Is this true?
And this is how the earliest versions of Mark’s Gospel conclude, and clearly scribes at some point decided that it was too much of an anti-climax and so there are two endings which have been appended, the longer of which cribs from the other Gospel accounts, you usually find them in italics at the end of the chapter.
But I quite like how Mark’s Gospel originally ended, because it leaves is with that question, do we believe this, is this true? Because that’s what Mark wants us to answer, he wants us to answer that question. The whole point of everything he has written about the life and death and resurrection of Jesus is to convince us of the answer to that question and then leave it hanging for us to answer. He believes it to be true, he has written this so that you might believe too, but you need to answer for yourself. And if we find ourselves answering yes we’ll find 3 things to be true; darkness turned to light, despair turned to hope, death turned to life.
So firstly, darkness to light. Have you ever noticed how in the Gospels things get darker and darker as Jesus’ death approaches. I don’t even mean figuratively as such, although that’s there too, but literally. It starts at the last Supper on Maundy Thursday as the evening rolls on. And as Judas leaves the meal to go and betray Jesus we find four words accompanying his exit ‘and it was night’. The darkness creeps in.
And of course the following events of prayer in agony in the garden, the trial, all happens through the night.
But even as the day dawns it doesn’t last, Jesus is crucified at around 9am but at noon, at the point the day should be at its brightest, what do we read? Darkness covered the whole land until 3 in the afternoon. The darkness creeps in even here, even in the midst of day as it attempts to snuff out the one who is the light. The darkness comes and threatens to swallow the light of the world. And at 3pm the one who is the light dies, and the darkness abates, its job complete.
And yet. As the women, these faithful few who have been with Jesus as he died, seen where he was laid and now come to finish tending to his body, as they come, what do we see? A sunrise. It’s early in the morning but the sun has risen. Whilst the darkness tried to snuff out the light nevertheless the sun rises and we find that with it Jesus has risen. Those words we hear every Christmas come to pass ‘the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it’.
Are you in the dark? Struggling, suffering, overwhelmed? All the forces of darkness rallied against Jesus, they threated to overwhelm him and thought they had won. And yet in the resurrection of Jesus his light shone out through that same darkness causing it to flee. The hope of Easter is that if you’re in the darkness you’ll find Jesus there, find his light still shining, still burning for you, offering to bring you through.
Secondly despair is turned to hope. These women as they come to tend to Jesus’ body, come with love, with devotion, with care. And yet it’s all tinged with despair. The one they love is dead, for all his miracles, for all his kindness, for all his preaching and teaching of God’s Kingdom he is dead. It’s all over, a life cut short due to jealousy and fear. The weight of love weighing heavy in the grief they feel.
And yet, as they arrive they find the stone rolled from the tomb, and the tomb itself empty. Perhaps that may mean more despair and grief and yet before they can even come to terms with that they receive the astonishing news that Jesus was alive, that he is going ahead of them to where all of this started.
They’re bewildered and leave trembling but in their hearts something kindles. Hope. Could this really be true? What does this mean for them? What does this mean for the world? Hope kindles in their hearts and the despair starts to fade. And soon their hope will be fulfilled as they meet the risen Jesus, as he speaks and eats and shares with them and his disciples. Soon their hope will become sight.
Do you despair? About life, about the world, about the future. The hope of Easter is that our hope is real, and firm and concrete. We have a sure and certain hope that through Jesus we are being raised up and our world with us. We need never despair because the victory has already been won through Jesus’ death and resurrection, we may face battles now but the war has already been won. The last page has already been written and Jesus wins. We may face sadness and disappointment, we may grieve and mourn, but we are never without hope.
And finally death is turned to life. Death looms ahead of us all, like a terrifying full stop. A definitive end, and in it the threat that everything we have lived for, everything we have built, everything we have done will be swallowed up completely. Perhaps not immediately but death will reach everything eventually. One of the theories of physics about the ultimate fate of our Universe is that slowly everything will drift further and further apart, energy slowly expended away until it all ends in the heat death of the universe, everything left cold and lifeless and distant.
And yet in Jesus a different fate awaits us and our universe. Death is no longer the end, death has instead become the gateway to new and everlasting life. Instead death has be swallowed up in victory. As Jesus is raised to life he is raised physically, and eternally, he has passed through death and so death has no claim on him anymore, no hold on him. And he gives us the promise that all who put their faith in him, who know him and love him, he will bring with him into everlasting life. As the funeral service says ‘all we go down to the earth and yet even over the grave we make our song; alleluia, alleluia, alleluia’. And that life isn’t sat on a cloud somewhere strumming a harp. It’s not sprouting wings and becoming another angel. It’s not going to heaven. The life Jesus has promised, is that which we were always made for, a continuation and perfection of the now. We look forward not to heaven but to a new heavens and a new earth. No longer separated but united. A world recreated and restored, and we recreated and restored with it, at last the people we were always created to be.
The end of everything isn’t death. It isn’t cold and lifeless and distant. Instead what we find in Christ’s resurrection is the assurance that where we are headed is filled with the warmth of God, abundant life and perfect connection, perfect relationship both with one another and with God.
At Easter, as Jesus steps out of the tomb the light overcomes the darkness, despair turns to hope and life overtakes death. And so we’re left with the question we began with. The question Mark leaves hanging at the end of his Gospel. Is this true? Do you believe this to be true? Because if it is, and you come to believe it yourself, to believe in him yourself, the world and our lives will never be the same.
Amen.