Mark 16:1-8
Imagine the finality of this scene. Jesus had been whipped within inches of his life. He was nailed to a cross. Probably a used cross. The Romans executed a lot of people by crucifixion. Wood was scarce in Israel. They couldn't afford to build a new cross every time they crucified someone.
Within the day, by sheer loss of blood, by exhaustion, by suffocation, Jesus was dead. Brutally dead.
The dead body was taken down off the cross. The nails were pulled. The ropes untied. The rigid, rigor-mortised body quickly wrapped in a shroud. The body thrown over and carried by a donkey--ironic, yes?--to a tomb. A borrowed tomb. Some other family's final resting place.
The body was laid on one of the shelves in the tomb. There may have been other bodies in there already. Jesus' dead body now joined them. It was the eve of the Sabbath. No time to bathe and wrap the body with strips of cloth and spices tucked in each fold. It wouldn't matter. He was dead, for goodness sake!
And the crescendo of finality, like in the "William Tell Overture" where the horns start blasting and the canons start firing: the stone was rolled in place. The stone would have been a huge chiseled wheel-shaped behemoth. It would have been at the top of a small uphill incline--a slot cut in the stone to let the "door" roll smoothly. It would have only taken maybe four to six men to get that thing rolling downward until it settled in the dip at the end of the slope. Getting it down would have been relatively easy. If they ever had to roll it back up the little slope, it would have been a harder thing by far. Maybe 16 men ropes and all. Or a four horse team. A tug-of-war with a tombstone. Talk about the final stroke of a final scene of a dead man's tomb.
Much more final than a modern grave. What if, for some reason, you wanted to see one of your beloved dead again. You stand over their grave. Have you looked down into a grave hole before, at the graveside service. Picked up the corner of the astroturf that covers the hole. The astroturf over the grave hole is supposed to shield you from the reality of what a couple of workers with a backhoe are about to do. It's a long ways down there. Six feet under, as they say.
But still, if you really wanted to see the person buried there, if you were really motivated, you could do it all by yourself. With a shovel. It would take a long time. But you could eventually unearth the casket. Not impossible.
But what about those women who started out at sunrise on the first day of the week? As they walked to the tomb, did they all realize they had made an assumption that was so ridiculous that they should have stopped in their tracks and laughed?
Mary voiced the question they should have asked before they started out: "Who will roll the stone away from the entrance for us?" What were they thinking? They had started a journey they could not finish on their own. They had embarked on a task they could not complete by themselves.
All they knew was the compulsion to go--they had to go. And even though there was the possibility that they may not complete what they set out to do, they would never know unless they began. Unless they start their journey, they'll never finish.
It's one of the major themes of the salvation events in the Bible. Abraham is instructed by God to go to a land that he will be shown. That once Abraham arrives, he will be the father of many nations--numbers of people greater than the stars in the sky. Abraham was to pack up his whole extended family, all their possessions, all their farm animals and head some place.
What we aren't told is how long Abraham thought about starting out on that journey. A journey he couldn't finish on his own, because he didn't know where he was going. God only knew. But unless he starts the journey he'll never finish. It was a journey he couldn't finish on his own.
Moses, who was instructed to lead a rabble of Hebrew slaves away from Egypt. From Egypt and towards freedom. A hard freedom. A wandering freedom. At some points, a murmuring, undesirable freedom. It was a journey they couldn't finish on their own. There was a Red Sea to cross, and a wilderness to wander around in. It was a journey Moses and the people couldn't finish on their own. But unless they started the journey they would never finish.
You have to start. Which is what the women heading for the tomb did. You have to be in awe of them for starting out their journey to the tomb, knowing they can't finish it on their own. They’re nervous they can’t do all the work. “Who will roll away the [massive] stone?” The stone was huge, and it was a barrier. It could easily have kept them from going at all.
God seems to delight in putting people on missions, or set them on journeys they can't finish on their own. It's usually in the middle of that journey--like when the Hebrew people are meandering around the Sinai Desert, or the women are half way to the tomb--that they realize they've bit off way more than they can chew, and this just might be an impossible mission.
So here it is. Most people don’t even start the journey because something, or someone, is in the way. Most of us would have stayed home that first Easter morning, just like the rest of the disciples, intimidated or afraid, or thinking we are smart enough to know we can’t move that boulder.
A large part of the Resurrection story certainly is centered on Jesus coming back to life and all that means. But I think the other half of that is the journey to the tomb by the women. Against all odds of ever getting into the tomb to do what they needed to do to the body, they still went. Even though they were on a journey they couldn't finish, they still went. Life, resurrection life, is about not holding ourselves back. It is about showing up. Showing up for the miracle. Against the odds, being present for the miracle. Of going on a journey with a dead end, but just by being on that journey you got to participate in something you could not have expected: impossible stones rolled away, and a dead man alive and walking.
This Easter, start your journey that your mind tells you you cannot possibly finish on your own. And then--and then--witness the miracle.
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