A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
John 20.24-29
As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
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.
[Now after he rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he ahd cast out seven demons. She went out and told those who had been with him, while they were mourning and weeping. But when they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they would not believe it.
After this he appeared in another form to two of them, as they were walking into the country. And they went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them.]
Mark 16.5-13
There's so much to celebrate on Easter morning. In the dimness of a pre-dawn gathering, we can smell the lilies and anticipate the alleluias that have been quiet for so long. The brightness of "He is Risen!" shatters the sorrow and darkness.
That's what we say.
But the first narratives of the resurrection weren't filled with the joy of Easter finery and egg bake and jelly beans. The first narratives of the resurrection were filled with terrified people and confusion and disbelief.
Thomas's story is one of few passages of scripture that appears annually in the lectionary readings. We never get a year without Thomas's doubt (for which he is named) and his proclamation (for which we would be better served to remember him): "My Lord and my God!"
But in Mark's gospel, the picture is even more fraught. The language of the revelation is harsh: Alarmed. Terror. Seized. Afraid. "And they said nothing to anyone." Silence.
And then, in the appended ending to Mark, we seem to have attempts to smooth the story over a bit--but instead we get two more stories that end in disbelief.
The miracle at the end of Mark's gospel hardly even seems to be the resurrection. In fact, it's hard to read resurrection in this narrative of emptiness and silence and confusion. The strongest miracle seems to be what happens afterward: through them, "the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation"--that is, the story.
The story--the proclamation--itself becomes the imperishable. The story of resurrection that cannot die.
So in others' doubt and terror, we receive the story. We receive a story that does not destroy doubt but, instead, provides an enduring narrative that shows us how, even in the midst of the dimness and silence and fear of our lives, revelation comes. We don't often recognize it at first (and we may not recognize it at all), but resurrection is walking around among us. And what is more, that sacred and imperishable proclamation is sent out through them. Them. The them who kept not believeing. The them who were terrified. The them who were fearful and silent.
Miracle of miracles: the story moves beyond the faith and courage of the teller. Even when we are timid and tired, the sacred and imperishable proclamation remains. Sustaining us in our belief and in our unbelief.
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