EASTER SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 2021          TEXT: MARK 16:1-8
          “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.” Period. Where is the appearance of the risen Lord himself? What about his commission to the disciples to proclaim the good news to all the earth? Where is the outpouring of joy that Jesus’ resurrection should bring? There seems to be something missing from Mark’s Easter account. According to some biblical scholars, what’s not there is the original conclusion. They think it was most likely accidentally lost. 
          If you look in the Bible, you will see that two possible endings were added later, neither of which appears in the oldest manuscripts of the Gospel of Mark. Here is the shorter of the two:    “And all that had been commanded them they told briefly to those around Peter. And afterward Jesus himself sent out through them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation” (16:9-10). So the women did get it together and say something to the disciples after all. And Jesus came to them in turn and inaugurated their ministry of witness to the world. Well, of course, it must have been that way, because if the story ended in apprehension and silence, as it does in Mark 16, verse 8, you and I wouldn’t know we had anything to celebrate today.
          But for now let’s stay with the story as we have it. The women come to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. They worry about the large stone that seals the entrance. Then when they arrive, they find it rolled back, and the tomb, well it is not empty, but the body of their friend is missing. Instead they encounter a figure clothed in white who tells them, “He has been raised; he is not here.” This is a wondrous report but shocking. What were the women to make of the situation? “Do not be alarmed,” the stranger tells them. Easy for him to say. “Fear not,” “do not be afraid” - the assurance echoes through the gospels. First from the angel to the shepherds when Jesus is born in Bethlehem.    And then from Jesus himself when time and again his ministry takes a surprising or troubling turn. And now from the other side of the grave, we are told to put fear aside. Easy to say, but so very hard to do. 
          The past year has tested our confidence in harrowing ways. Even as the vaccinations roll out, the virus is still infecting thousands every day, people are falling sick, some survive but do not recover, and we continue to bury our dead. “He is not here” anymore — that part we understand. But what are we to make of the “he has been raised”? What can it mean for the 2.84 million dead worldwide and those who grieve them? What does it mean for the countless people who have walked this earth before us, most of whose lives have disappeared from human memory altogether? 
          Our prayer book recommends a number of passages from the Prophet Isaiah for reading at a funeral. This is not one of them, but it should be:    “Zion said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.’ Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you” (Isaiah 49:14-15). God has made us in his image and breathed his spirit into us. He does not forget what he has created. We have our eternal place in the memory of God; we cannot disappear into nothingness. 
          This passage from the Book of Lamentations is one of the texts specified for use at funerals: ‘The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him’” (Lamentations 3:22-24). God gave his Son to make the power and depth of that love known. It left its mark on the world through the life of Jesus, through his acts of mercy and healing, his generosity to the poor and the outcast. This love did not falter in the face of rejection or cruelty or death. It reaches through the grave and beyond, never failing, never ending.
          Dietrich Bonhoeffer once comforted a grieving child by telling him, “I believe that . . . all who have loved each other on earth — genuinely loved each other — will remain together with God, for to love is part of God. Just how that happens, though, we admittedly don’t know.” The greatest terror death holds for us is having to leave behind the ones we love. The messenger in the empty tomb is telling us, “Be not afraid.” In the midst of all we cannot understand, the resurrection of Jesus is God’s assurance to us. It is by loving one another as he first loved us that we too will conquer death.
          “In loving memory of” followed by the name of the deceased — we see this inscription on floral tributes, on decals adhering to car windows, in FaceBook posts. The words mark our loss and express our grief. They also point to the source of our consolation and our hope:    God’s steadfast loving memory of his children, of you and me, the sisters and brothers of Jesus, the firstborn from the dead.
          Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed! Amen.