Mark 16:1-8

“Good News Is for Telling—Especially to Peter”

April 16, 2006

 

There is at least one thing about that gospel story that is not true. . .  Now that I have your attention, let me qualify that:  there is at least one thing about that gospel story that did not remain true.  Mark writes, “So [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”  Of course, it can’t be true that they never told anyone what they’d seen, or Mark would never have heard it to write it about, and we never have read it.  Obviously, they did tell their news after they’d settled down a bit and got their wits about them. 

Although your Bible may offer several more verses after where we stopped reading this morning, the best ancient manuscripts agree that originally Mark’s gospel ended right there, after verse 8.  Over the years two or three different endings got tacked on to the gospel, because not everyone liked the way it ends—with terror and amazement, with silence and fear. 

They thought, is that any way to end a gospel?  Well, for one thing, it does sound pretty realistic to me—a lot of people I know live with a certain amount of terror and fear.  But more important, this ending acknowledges that in some ways the story is always incomplete.  The risen Christ is always going ahead of us and we are always called to go and tell the good news.  And we are forever grappling with our fear and silence.  Will we go and tell the good news about Jesus?  Or will we give in to the fear and stay silent?  Well, it kind of remains to be seen, doesn’t it?  The story is always incomplete.

Good news, of course, is for telling.  When my mom was a child she went shopping one year with her little sister to get a birthday present for their mom.  They selected a beautiful orange cream pitcher, paid for it with their own precious money, and made plans to sneak it into the house without their mom seeing it.  My mom threatened her little sister to keep the present a secret, not to tell what they’d gotten her.  But no sooner were they in the house than her sister blurted out:  “We got you a present, mommy.  I can’t tell you what it is, but it’s orange, it has a handle, and you pour cream out of it!”  Children know:  good news is for telling!

Edsel Ammons was the bishop who ordained me up at Lakeside.  About that same time, Bishop Ammons’ wife passed away.  He took some time off and one of the first things he did when he came back was to write an article for the Easter edition of the conference newspaper.  He began:  “I have had a lot of time to think about writing this Easter message.  At one point, I vowed, in fact, not to do it.  The aftermath of the death of my wife, whose heart beat as one with mine, has been a time of wilderness wandering for me.  Grief has often given way to an awful sense of desolation and loneliness.”  Do you hear the bishop wrestling with terror and silence and fear? 

But he goes on.  He refers to this gospel story and speaks from the heart:  “Like no other moment in my life, I need to feel in my heart that the Story never does end, that the Living Christ continues to bless us with the gift of life in the midst of suffering and death.  I need again the reassurance that Easter is not about endings but about a future in the hands of God.”[1]  The bishop knew that though we may struggle, ultimately good news is for telling, even in the face of death.

Tom Long tells about a Lutheran church in the South Bronx, a tough neighborhood where the leaders of the congregation include recovering addicts and illegal immigrants, the unemployed and the homeless.  During Holy Week one year, they did a sort of reenactment of the Passion story.  They borrowed a live donkey and had an actor playing Jesus ride around the block to shouts of Hosanna.  Their procession met up with a street demonstration protesting police brutality, and it got hard to tell the play from reality.  Somehow they got back inside the church, Jesus was put on trial and executed.  Then some women came and someone playing an angel gave them the astounding news:  He is not here; he is risen.” 

Then the script called for three members of the congregation, prepared in advance, to stand up and give testimony to the truth of the resurrection.  “I know that he is alive,” each one was to begin.  The first was Angie.  “I know that he is alive,” she said, “because he is alive in me.”  She then told how she was abused by her father, fell into alcoholism, became HIV-positive.  But then she responded to the welcome of the church, started attending worship, then a Bible study, and bit by bit she rose from the grave to new life.  The other two witnesses stood in turn, saying, “I know that he is alive, because he is alive in me.” proceeding to tell their own story of how Jesus had given them hope and courage and a reason to live again.  Then that portion of the script was done, and it was time to move on.  But the testimony would not stop.  Other people started to stand up spontaneously.  “I know that he is alive,” they would say, “because he is alive in me.”  Homeless people now sheltered, addicts coming clean, lonely people befriended, deeply discouraged people given hope, anxious souls granted peace.  They stood one by one; nothing could stop them, each one telling their own version of the good news of Jesus Christ.[2] 

I want to be like that church!  I don’t want anyone or anything to be able to shut us up.  I want us to know in our hearts that good news is for telling. 

One last detail about this gospel story:  The angel tells the women, “But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee.”  Now that’s a curious thing to say since, after all, Peter was one of the disciples.  It’s as if someone would have said, “Go and tell the Beatles, and Ringo.”  Or “Go and tell the US Senators and Mike DeWine.”  Go, tell his disciples and Peter.  Why single Peter out in this way?

Well, you remember what Peter did just before Jesus died?  To save his own skin, he denied that he even knew Jesus—not just once, not twice, but three times.  And now after Jesus’ death, Peter probably isn’t feeling much like a disciple.    

So the angel could have said to the women, “Go, tell his disciples that Jesus is going on ahead of you to Galilee.  All but Peter that is.  Tell Peter to forget it; he’s finished.”  Instead, the angel says, “Go, tell the disciples the good news; oh, and Peter, him most of all.  He needs the good news most of all. 

Do you know anyone like Peter?  Someone, perhaps, who let the side down, who’s feeling guilty or ashamed, who doesn’t want to get out of bed?  You see, the good news is for them most of all.  Or maybe you are that person?  Then here’s the thing—the good news about Jesus is for you, my friend, especially and most of all for you.

And here is the good news:  Christ is not found among the graves and dead places of your life.  He doesn’t set up camp among your failures.  He wills neither your broken heart nor your distance from God.  He won’t keep reminding you of your guilt.  The risen Christ is always going on ahead of you and we are always called to go and tell the good news. 

And the question is, how does this gospel end?  Will the women go and tell?  Will the men reach out to others with Christ’s love and acceptance of all?  Will Peter, will those who need it most, hear good news?  Ah, now that remains to be seen.  It depends on what we do when we leave this place today.  The story is always incomplete.  But one thing is for sure—He is risen.  And good news is for telling.


[1]  Bishop Edsel Ammons, “Easter is about unfinished business,” West Ohio News (March 29, 1991), 1.

[2] Thomas G. Long, “Giving Testimony,” Alive Now (May/June 2005), 7-10.