Sermon by Charles King, Easter Sunday, 4 April 2021. Readings: Acts 10:34-43; Mark 16:1-8.
“You wouldn’t believe it unless it was actually happening.” The words of Steve Ali, a Syrian writer and broadcaster living in London. He was reflecting on over ten years of war in Syria. “At first, we didn’t think war could happen in Syria,” he says, “And then when it did, surely it was going to be only in another part of the country – and not in my city, Damascus. Surely not! And then it does. [Because] before it happens, it’s always impossible. You wouldn’t believe it unless it was actually happening.” “It’s like the pandemic,” he goes on to say, “You wouldn’t believe that unless it was actually happening, either.”
“You wouldn’t believe it unless it was actually happening.” The words of Steve Ali, a Syrian writer and broadcaster living in London. He was reflecting on over ten years of war in Syria. “At first, we didn’t think war could happen in Syria,” he says, “And then when it did, surely it was going to be only in another part of the country – and not in my city, Damascus. Surely not! And then it does. [Because] before it happens, it’s always impossible. You wouldn’t believe it unless it was actually happening.” “It’s like the pandemic,” he goes on to say, “You wouldn’t believe that unless it was actually happening, either.”
In our Gospel reading this morning, Mark tells us of three women who went to the tomb on that first Easter morning: Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome. Like Steve Ali points out, I don’t think that they would have believed what they did see unless it was actually happening either. Those three women had set out for the tomb with a job to do. For Middle Eastern burials of this era took place in two stages. First, the body was covered in spices, and laid on a shelf in a tomb – the primary burial – a sad task, but a necessary one, both out of reverence, and essentially basic hygiene. And then, in due course, in a second act, the bones of the deceased would have been gathered into a box in an ossuary.
The women Mark tells us about were expecting to go about the work of this first stage. They’d bought spices, and they’d gone to the tomb at first light, on the first day of their working week. They might have been expecting at the very least to have difficulty with shifting the stone across the tomb. What they were very much not expecting was to witness Jesus’ resurrection. They had no idea that such a thing was even thinkable. They certainly weren’t expecting to believe that. Impossible.
And then it really was happening. The women got the shock of their lives. On arrival, the stone had been rolled away, and a young man in white sat where Jesus’ body had been, calmly explaining to them that Jesus had been raised from the dead, and would see them again in Galilee. Things are always impossible until they actually happen.
The funny thing about Mark’s Gospel is that in most cases, that’s where it finishes. But if Mark doesn’t choose to describe instances of Jesus appearing to different people after his resurrection, be in no doubt that he has chosen to tell us in this passage, in what we do have, that Jesus did rise. The women are instructed to pass on the news of Jesus’ resurrection to his disciples, and Mark picks out Peter in particular: Peter, with all his character flaws and human failings; Peter, who in that reading from Acts gives us one of the most powerful statements of belief anyone can make – about the love of God in the risen Jesus.
So let’s come back to Mark’s resurrection account. Because just as the women were signposted as witnesses to tell others, imagine, too, that the signpost is pointing in our direction. We’re witnesses as well. Our job is to fill in Mark’s blank, if you like. Do we take Easter for granted, or have we found ourselves just awestruck at this work of God? What do we know of the risen Lord; what tasks does he have for us to undertake today? Where do we find ourselves on that first Easter morning – and where are we now? The abruptness of Mark’s ending encourages all the more to explore not only the faith of the early church, but our own faith.
In this context, things are always impossible until they actually happen. Although we rightly lament the grief, pain and sadness of the past year, so we can also celebrate what we thought was previously impossible: the ingenuity to apply technology to so many elements of our daily life; rediscovering an appreciation of the created world around us; countless other aspects; but perhaps above all, realising that as human beings we really do need one another in person. Had we taken touch and simply being with one another for granted?
“You wouldn’t believe it unless it was actually happening.” Easter is the great celebration of life – and life all the more precious when we know we’ve been deprived of its fullness. Easter’s not an attempt to deny the reality of death. But as Christians, we don’t ultimately live to die. God’s gift of life for us all in creation is given that we might share and make life possible for others. We believe that God’s life is shared so powerfully and with such love that nothing can end what God gives us. Even beyond death, God still has more to give and to share. Jesus Christ is risen! That’s the Easter message. We can believe that because it really is happening. Amen.