Some of you may be thinking to yourselves, “surely the preacher read the wrong text or left something out. This sounds like the Easter scripture but there is a lot missing!” So, if you are not too familiar with Mark’s resurrection account you will have noticed that the earthquake and angelic appearance found in Matthew; the angelic announcement and disbelief from the disciples found in Luke; the poetry and emotions found in John—along with the appearance of the Risen Christ… none of those things were recorded in this Gospel. And it may come as a shock, but through the years, the early scribes of the Holy Scripture were so uncomfortable with this lack of classic markers of the resurrection that two additional endings were later added.[1] So since we have lived through a year of discomfort, it just seemed appropriate that today we hear the good news of the resurrection in a way that invites both celebration and pause. For God is able to speak to us, whether we find ourselves in moments of comfort or in seasons of discomfort.

It is true that our text may seem unfamiliar, but the circumstances that lead Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome to the tomb have become very familiar to us. Over the past year many of us have walked through the deep waters of grief. There is a real heaviness and pain that we have experienced. The loss of loved ones through this season of pandemic has added layers of complexity to what already was a difficult process. When we lose a loved one, very suddenly we are flooded with memories, emotions, wishes, and regrets. Time almost stands still and minds race to comprehend that which is beyond human comprehension. Any other year, we can count on a well-worn pattern that guides us through these difficulties. But this year everything was different. The realities of the pandemic prevented many of us from following our sacred rituals and social customs. Some were not able to sit next to a loved one as they departed this world. Many were not able to gather with family and friends to mourn a passing. All were forced to make difficult decisions on how to best honor those who are no longer with us.

The women, who stood at the foot of the cross while others hid in fear, had to adapt to a less than ideal reality. It is not just that their teacher and friend had been deprived of his humanity, mocked, beaten, and hung on a cross between two common criminals. Those who loved him were deprived of the opportunity to serve in preparing his body for burial. So, they had to adapt—rising very early on the first day of the week to journey with the sunrise to a place where they imagine they would only encounter death. Can you imagine the pain and sorrow in their hearts? The confusion and anguish? Walking to the tomb to see the beaten and mangled body of Jesus. I wonder how they prepared themselves for that encounter. Despite the obstacles on the way, their faithful determination drove them back to the tomb. Our imaginations may be stretched attempting to understand the resolve to return to that place of sorrow. Yet we know this drive very well. We can look back and remember stories like Mamie Till-Mobley’s who insisted in seeing the body of her son, Emmett Till, who had been tortured and murdered in the Mississippi Delta.[2] We can speak quite eloquently of our own need to be with and say goodbye to those whom we hold near our hearts. Despite the challenges in front of us, we come filled with sorrow and questions. We come out of devotion and in search of hope.

The women came to the tomb perhaps seeking closure. After following and supporting the ministry of Jesus for years, now things seemed to be really done. They came hoping that the stone could be rolled away from the entrance, because they already knew what to expect inside. Unlike Mamie Till-Mobley, they were well informed of the realities that awaited their arrival. They had been firsthand witnesses to the torture and death of their beloved teacher. Those wh