New Normal to New Creation

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Mark 16:1-8

Take time with the story; take time in it.

Notice: Mark tells the story of the Resurrection through the lens of three women.  They have been “minor characters,” not even mentioned by Mark until the very end of chapter 15: these women witness the crucifixion and watch as Jesus’ body is entombed nearby (15:40, 47).

It has been just a week since what seemed to be the climax of Jesus’ ministry, his triumphant entry into Jerusalem.  We assume that these women have been followers of Jesus for some time (15:41), so imagine how their hopes have been rising.  Jesus deliberately associates himself with messianic images and promises: he rides into town on a donkey, a sign of the very different nature of Messiah’s kingdom.  He cleanses/purifies the Temple, another messianic act. The Jewish leaders who oppose him cannot stand before him, their petty arguments, accusations and word-traps swept away.  Surely the Kingdom of God is at hand at last! What will Jesus do next to fulfill all those ancient prophecies and promises?

And then it all comes crashing down: betrayal, denial, arrest, trial, condemnation, crucifixion.  They watch as he who saved others does not save himself; he who could come down off the cross does not.  Instead, he dies.

He dies in the afternoon, as Sabbath is about to begin.  There is not time for a proper burial; that will have to wait until after the Sabbath.

How often Jesus had “violated” Sabbath rules and regulations, especially healing people, making them whole, on the Sabbath!  Now he lies, dead and not yet properly buried, on Sabbath eve. The women observe the Sabbath, “resting,” if there can be any rest following such a Friday.  We had hoped God’s Kingdom was about to come; now, life returns to normal, the old normal.

The old normal knows that crucifixion does not mean “success,” that death still has the last word: a dead messiah, especially a shamefully, God-forsakenly crucified messiah, is no messiah at all.

So after the Sabbath, the women are up early, to do the normal work of finally preparing Jesus’ body for burial.  An act of devotion and love, an act of grief and lamentation, an act of farewell.  

These women are much like us.  Ordinary folks. Unknown, except by family and friends. Low-status.  They know how the world works, they know who wields power and know that they do not.  They are well-accustomed to trimming their hopes and dreams to “the way the world is,” which the world has once again demonstrated to them in spades.

They do what they can, what they know to do.  The stone is a problem, but they keep going.

They never expected the “problem” of an empty tomb.

We’re not there just yet.  You’re reading this on Good Friday.  Sunday is coming, but first: Saturday.  What to do with Saturday?

Some thoughts on Saturday will come tomorrow.  Today, Good Friday: what can you imagine Jesus, from the cross, saying to exhausted, frightened medical workers?  Homeless people being told, like all of us, to ‘stay home’? To governors and leaders, trying to lead and manage things?  Low-wage workers now suddenly unemployed? Residents of nursing homes and the staff caring for them? People sick in hospital, unable to have visitors, possibly facing dying alone?

Not yet the Risen Jesus—that will come.  Today, Jesus on the cross: what might he say, to them?  To us?

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"Fear not! My peace be with you, for I have overcome the world."

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