The way our reading ends today is the way the whole gospel of Mark ends, with fear, amazement, and then silence.

 

This is very different than the other gospels that end with stories of Jesus appearing to Mary in the garden or to the disciples with more teaching and assurances. Mark does not do that. Mark tells us about an austere, almost haunted moment of fear and amazement.

 

As much as I love the resurrection stories of the other gospels, this gospel resonates with me because this combination of fear and amazement is such a human response to life.

 

When I was about 20, a friend and I went on an epic road trip starting in Seattle and did a giant circle to go to the Four Corners area and the Grand Canyon. We had two weeks before UW was back in session for the fall. Beyond that, we had no plans and hardly any money. We had my cheap car, cheap gas back then, and maybe a couple bags of chips. Sounds like the decision making of a 20-year-old, no?

 

The night we drove to Grand Canyon, we thought we might be lost. All those years ago, we didn’t have Google maps. I was unsure of where we were because the land was oddly flat with the occasional ponderosa pine. There was nothing grand going on. Until we got to the canyon, the land just simply ended, and there was this massive disruption right in front of us.

 

We arrived around midnight with a full moon that night. We had the canyon to ourselves. No other humans anywhere in sight. It was silent and truly awesome.  

 

The funny part is that in the midst of all that wonder, I was also a bit terror-struck. Cognitively I knew that everything was OK, but my body still wanted to crawl on the ground as I walked across the parking lot. My knees really did get weak. I had never seen anything like this incredible canyon glowing in the moonlight, emerging out of nowhere. I think my cognitive brain needed to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. My hands wanted to verify that yes, indeed, the earth was still there and stable.

 

I was afraid and amazed.

 

How many times in all of our lives have we all felt this way? We may feel a combination of fear and amazement any time a new chapter of life opens up. What were those moments for you? Graduations, getting married, becoming parents, getting accepted into college, or … whatever it is. We all have stories like this, even if it’s just a visceral response to the Grand Canyon at midnight.

 

That’s why I love the response of the women at the end of the gospel. I can see myself in them so easily. They were afraid and amazed. Well, who wouldn’t be? Their teacher and Lord was killed by the state in front of their eyes. Yes, he told them that he would rise again. But actually experiencing the empty tomb must have been very different than being told that the tomb will be empty.

 

Their response was an honest, faithful response. While the gospel ends here, the story clearly does not end here. It stands to reason that the women did eventually say something, as they did in the other gospels. But in the Mark gospel, he wanted their fear and amazement to ring in our ears and our hearts, perhaps letting us know that our very human responses to life are OK. When we are frozen in fear and amazement, we are OK, responding how the women at the tomb responded. We don’t have to get it right away. And even when we do “get it”, our fears and hurts don’t disappear. It’s all present and embraced by God.

 

I imagine the women going back to one of their homes, having something hot to drink, and having a good talk about what they saw, how they were feeling, what they thought was happening. I imagine them crying and then laughing. I imagine them praying for guidance. I imagine their excitement growing so that they could head out to tell the good news.

 

In this gospel, there was time for them to process their experience. Their brains and bodies had a chance to catch up to their eyes and ears. They had time to come to trust what their senses were telling them so that they would be prepared to be the first to proclaim the good news.

 

Sometimes we need that time to think, particularly when we find ourselves in our Grand Canyon moments, when the road runs out, when the familiar landscape ends, and the way forward has disappeared. Even when these Grand Canyon moments are good, it’s hard on us. We may need some time to pause for our brains and our bodies to catch up with our new realities.

 

You may find yourself on the edge of your own canyon today, wondering what in the world you are going to do to get to the other side. Or you may have people in your life who are on the edge of a canyon and you cannot rescue them. Or you may be suffering by witnessing the horrors in our world perpetuated by humans. We stand on the edges of canyons all the time, wondering how it’s going to work out this time.

 

However you come today, Jesus’ resurrection is for you. His resurrection and life is the way. New life is emerging from the scars while not erasing the scars. Like the women today, we all could use a pause to allow in the reality, or even perhaps just the possibility, that we do live in a world where God does indeed guide us, does provide healing and redemption, does turn our desolation into beauty, does advocate for the ones who need protection. We can pause and allow God’s love for us to sink in, whether it makes sense to us or not.

 

That is what Easter Sunday is all about. It is a day to celebrate Jesus’ life, his teaching and healing, his sacrifice, but mostly to celebrate the fact that he’s still doing all of these things.

 

Honestly, you’d think Jesus would be tired of us by now, but nope. Isn’t that an incredible show of love for us. Not only did Jesus come and willingly go to the cross for the sake of the liberation of the world, but he continues to show up for us in his resurrection. God somehow is not sick of the world, but is still creating and bringing forth the kingdom of God with us, for us, and perhaps even through us.  

 

Last week, I asked you guys to write down your vision of the Kingdom of God on strips of colorful paper. You can see those pieces of paper wrapped around the “trees” of Gethsemane throughout the sanctuary. You wrote about people having enough resources to live a life of dignity. You wrote about people feeling free and peaceful. You wrote about compassion, empathy, and connection. You wrote about flourishing communities as well as wishes for your personal lives.

 

The kingdom blooms and opens up for us in our lives. It opens up everywhere, like flowers in the spring. It is opening up now, here, and around the world, despite all the seeming dead ends.

 

No doubt the women in the gospel felt the rending of their world with Jesus’ death, like the tearing of the temple curtain at the moment of his end. They were at the end of that road. Their life with Jesus melted into nothing, like the earth simply ending at the edge of the Grand Canyon.

 

It is at this earth-rending moment that Jesus tells us to go back to the beginning, go back to Galilei. Go back to the teachings about the Kingdom. Go back to the promises contained in the stories of healing, love, and acceptance. It all still applies and he is still here teaching, healing, and guiding. A way will be made out of no way as he is ahead of us, preparing this way.

 

However you come to the story of Easter today, the Good News is for you. Is the canyon moment you are thinking of a moment of wonder and joy? Or is it one of grief, fear, confusion, or depression?

 

However you come to Easter this year, your experience and feelings and questions and doubts and worries all belong. Some folks say that the women at the end of Mark “failed.” It is not a failure to need a moment to pause. You don’t need to respond to your canyon moments by immediately jumping into being a super-evangelist or a super anything. We are all human, limited and flawed. AND YET, our Lord is with us, still teaching, guiding the way, and going ahead to prepare the way we cannot yet see. You are indeed loved and wanted. You are indeed a part of God’s emerging Kingdom as we participate in creating God’s Kingdom – a world of dignity, love, empathy, compassion, and connection for all of us.

 

The endings of our lives are not final, just like death is not final. So with faith in our Lord, that he is indeed going ahead to prepare the way, perhaps we can all take a pause, take a breath, and soak in the wonder that God is with us, guiding us every step of the way.

 

AMEN