This Easter Sunday poem was commissioned by Northminster Presbyterian Church in Endwell, New York.
“When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. 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.” – Mark 16:4-8
They fled from the tomb.
They said nothing to anyone.
They were afraid.
Silence.
Mark’s Gospel ends there.
The last words
are
no
words.
Nothing conveyed.
Nothing spoken.
Nothing shared.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Fear — yes —
Great Fear.
But
Nothing.
Silence.
It’s as if the curtain closes,
Or the movie screen goes blank.
We sit there in silence,
in the dark,
waiting for more,
for what must be coming.
But the women — even the brave women —
say nothing.
We wait.
What must be coming?
Nothing.
Then suddenly we realize — … oh, becoming —
We are invited to become the voices.
We are invited to become the proclaimers.
We are invited to become the exclaimers:
“He has been raised,
He is not here,
He is in Galilee,
There we will see him.”
We are the voices:
“He is Risen!”
“He is Risen, Indeed!”
We speak these words back and forth,
We enact these words back and forth,
We who are the voices,
We who are the proclaimers.
We who are the exclaimers.
We move beyond our own fear.
This story is ours to tell.
We move beyond our own silence.
This story is ours to share.
We resound, and we live the unfolding story:
“He is Risen!”
“He is Risen, Indeed!”
“He is Risen!”
“He is Risen, Indeed!”
Smuggling Grace 