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Easter Sunday (B)
Mark 16:1-8 is a powerful resurrection narrative that has often been misunderstood and under-appreciated. The first seven verses are straight-forward enough, but the last one is troubling—especially if it should be the last verse of the gospel!
The last twelve verses of Mark in most translations (i.e., Mark 16:9-20) were almost certainly not written by Mark, but were added by scribes in later centuries. Most transla-tions include some confusing headings (e.g., shorter ending, longer ending) and some semi-explanatory footnotes. For instance, the NRSV says in a footnote, “Some of the most ancient authorities bring the book to a close at the end of verse 8. One authority concludes the book with the shorter ending; others include the shorter ending and then continue with verses 9-20. In most authorities verses 9-20 follow immediately after verse 8, though in some of these authorities the passage is marked as being doubtful.”
Bruce Metzger’s comments about these verses in his textual commentary on the Greek New Testament are helpful. He points out that the two oldest codices (Vaticanus and Sinaiticus) do not have these additional verses, nor do the oldest translations of the Greek into other languages. The earlier church “fathers” seem either not to be aware of them or they recognize that these verses are spurious. Several of the manuscripts that do contain these verses include a warning mark to indicate that these verses may not be original. Nevertheless, over time, these added verses became part of the received text and were consid-ered to be part of Mark.
When the RSV New Testament was published in 1946, it closed the book with 16:8, relegating vv. 9-20 to a long footnote, where these verses were printed in small-print ital-ics. When the second edition of the RSV New Testament was published in 1971, the long ending was restored to the text with (easily-overlooked) brackets and an explanatory foot-note. I lament the decision of the translation committee in 1971 (and of all other major translation committees of the last 50 years) and think the additional verses should be in a footnote. And I do not think that someone should preach on vv. 9-20 as if they were part of God’s Word (i.e., without noting their questionable authenticity).
One could argue that because these verses—added by someone in later centuries—became part of the received text reflect, it was God’s will. But some of the later changes to the biblical text were simple mistakes and others were ill-conceived revisions. At one point scholars agreed nearly unanimously that Mark could not have ended with verse 8. Although they knew that vv. 9-20 were added later by someone else, they concluded that the inade-quacy of v. 8 as an ending indicates that original ending of Mark must have been lost! Or if not lost, perhaps Mark didn’t have the chance to complete his gospel. But the impulse to add to Mark was and is a misguided impulse born of misunderstanding God’s Word and an unfortunate embarrassment with the text. It is time for pastors to repent of their “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when it comes to the form of the biblical text.
Little of the above is appropriate for airing in a Sunday morning sermon, unless one pastors an unusual congregation! However, it is highly relevant for any pastor who is care-ful about what text to use as his or her focus. In the last 25 years, more and more students of Mark have concluded that Mark appropriately ends with v. 8.
This little powerful pericope is full of drama and surprise. It is the first resurrection narrative in the New Testament (since Mark was likely the canonical gospel written first), although the earlier comments of Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 include some traditions about the resurrection. The most striking feature of this resurrection narrative is its “unsatisfactory” ending in v. 8.
The Gospel of Mark is distinctive for its treatment of the so-called messianic secret. In Mark, Jesus repeatedly charges people not to say anything to anyone about his identity or what he had done after they were healed or released from oppressive demons. See, e.g., 1:25, 34, 44; 3:11-12; 5:43; 7:36; 8:30; 9:9. In addition, Jesus tries to keep his whereabouts secret (7:24; 9:30) and was even somewhat secretive about some of his teachings (4:11-12; cf. 7:17; 10:10). What is surprising is the consistency with which we have a two-part “don’t-tell/tell” pattern in Mark: (1) Don’t tell anyone; followed by (2) people telling every-one, and spreading the word about Jesus.
In Mark 16:7-8 we have what may well be the punch line to the messianic secret: a surprising reversal to this two-fold pattern to which we have become accustomed: (1) Go tell; followed by (2) the women saying nothing to anyone, out of fear. So instead of the “don’t-tell/tell” pattern we see operating in the rest of Mark, here we have just the oppo-site: a “tell/don’t-tell” pattern.
But why? This seems to be the most inappropriate response possible to the good news about Jesus’ resurrection. Exactly. I think that’s Mark point: he intentionally offers an ending that will strike his readers as most “inappropriate” in order to spur them to do pre-cisely what the recipients of Jesus’ ministry have done throughout the book: to go and share freely and joyfully the good news of their experience of freedom and healing with whomever they should meet: Jesus has been raised from the dead!
As David Rhoads has said, “The rhetoric at the end of the story—when the women flee in fear and silence (16:8)—leads the hearers to want to do the opposite, to be coura-geous and to speak out” (Reading Mark, Engaging the Gospel [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2004], p. 138).
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Loren L. Johns
In this text, we read Peter’s sermon to Cornelius’ house. The speech falls directly between Cornelius’ and Peter’s separate but simultaneous epiphanies, and the first baptism of Gentiles in Acts. The reader, with Cornelius, may expect the speech to be triumphant, which it is, if also slightly clutzy in its proof. Peter begins with his thesis: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (vv 34-35). Though the thesis is already ancient, its implications are ground-breaking for the church in Acts, and Peter stands on the cusp of a new interpretation of God’s non-partiality.
Peter begins his proof of God’s non-partiality with the message of Jesus, the Lord of all. This language is also reminiscent of the title “Lord of Lords” for YHWH, which is linked to God’s impartiality in Deut 10:17. Jesus, who is Lord of all, reveals God’s nonpartiality.
Peter continues, describing the character and power of Jesus’ lordship in his life and death. By the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus acted on earth in evidence of his lordship, doing good and healing not only Jews, but “all who were oppressed by the devil” (v 38). Jesus embodies the nonpartiality of God by acting in the Holy Spirit, who is open and available to all people. Even as Peter speaks, he is interrupted by the Holy Spirit descending on “all those who heard the message”—not only Jews, but also Gentiles—so that they speak in tongues and praise God. This is a monumental moment in the life of the church, when Gentiles become part of the fellowship on account of the power of God and the openness of those who preach.
Yet, for all of the openness and inclusion in Peter’s sermon, there still remains something of Jewish chosenness: God did not cause everyone to see Jesus resurrected, but only those “who were chosen by God as witnesses” (v 41). By his resurrection, Jesus is “judge of the living and the dead”—that is, Lord of all—but this has only been made clear to some, who have been commanded to spread the word. Peter’s logic raises questions: If Christ is Lord of all, why are only some chosen as witnesses and preachers? Why must Jesus Christ continue to be preached; if he is, in fact, Lord of all, shouldn’t everyone already know it?
Isa 60 describes the coming light of Zion, the full presence of the Lord among the Hebrew people, which results in the streaming of the nations—the Gentiles—into the city to behold and worship the light. The light is self-evident, so the nations run to it. The events of Acts 10 partially fulfill the prophecy of Isa 60: having heard the word of Jesus Christ, the light of the world, Gentiles are worshipping God by the power of the Holy Spirit. But, rather than the nations running to the light, here those “who were chosen by God as witnesses” are being sent out, into the nations. Here, the chosen one is Peter, who is sent to Cornelius’ household, which receives him and his message with exuberance. Chosenness, and the missional task that accompanies it, characterizes our waiting for the day of which Jeremiah writes: “No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord’, for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more” (31:34).
The New Testament and the Old Testament agree that God is nonpartial, and they also agree that, nevertheless, some are chosen. God’s character, lacking in bias, does not negate chosenness, but it does determine the task of those who are chosen. To whom will Peter now preach? Whom will he baptize?
Peter’s life—and the life of the early church—has changed dramatically: he can eat unclean food and freely socialize with non-Jews, which means that he can also talk to non-Jews about Jesus, so that they may be forgiven. This is the person and the event of which the prophets have testified. Yet, with the prophets, we continue to wait and hope for Christ’s next descent, all will know immediately that Jesus is Lord of Lords. That we are waiting means that we also have a calling and a task: to preach Christ as Lord of all, in whose name is forgiveness of sin.
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Andrea Dalton
