Posts Tagged ‘silence’

Not an ending – a beginning

March 31, 2018

Easter Day – 2018

Mark 16:1-8

Marian Free

 In the name of God who turns darkness to light, sorrow to joy, death to life. Amen.

 When something significant happens – a natural disaster, a mass shooting, the visit of a member of the royal family – not only does everyone know about the event but nearly everyone has an opinion on the matter. A certain amount of notoriety attaches to those who were close to or involved in the event and at the same time, those who were affected by what has happened need to talk about it because they have been so traumatized by it.

Why then does Mark’s gospel end on a note of silence. The women (who have seen the empty tomb and been told that Jesus has been raised) “went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Silence is an inauspicious start for what was to become the Christian faith. Silence is an inappropriate response for something as extraordinary and unexpected as the resurrection. Silence and fear detract from Jesus’ victory over death, and silence defies the young man’s explicit instruction: “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.”

There are a number of explanations for Mark’s terse and unsatisfactory ending – and I will come to them – but first let me take a step back. Those of you who followed the gospel in the pew bibles will be saying to yourselves: “but the gospel doesn’t end at verse 8.” If you look closely though, you will see that the second half of verse 8 is headed “The Shorter Ending of Mark” and verses 9-20 “The Longer Ending”. The problem is that there are no original copies of the gospels, the earliest manuscripts that we have come from the fourth century and these are copies of copies of copies. Significantly, the oldest copies of Mark end at verse 8, that, plus the fact that this is such a difficult reading has led scholars to believe that the original gospel ended here.

If that is the case, t is not surprising that the later copiests added to Mark’s ending. They would have found the lack of resurrection stories unsatisfactory and they would have wanted to find a way for Mark’s gospel to line up with the other gospels. The longer ending, for example, includes a reference to Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus (Luke) and the commission to proclaim the good news to all the nations (Matthew). It also contains disturbing “proofs of faith” that do not seem to go back to Jesus– “they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them.”

So why does the author of Mark leave us hanging? Why are we left with fear and silence rather than victory and joy?

There are a number of suggestions as to why this might be. One is that those for whom the gospel was written already know the ending. They know too that the story does not end with Jesus’ resurrection, but continues in their own lives and through the experience of the gathered community. Jesus’ is alive in their midst, they themselves are the proof enough of the resurrection. The author of Mark knows that the story is far from over. It is possible that he is challenging his community – the believing community to take their place in the story, to move the story forward. In some ways the resurrection is just the beginning of the story. In fact, Mark appears to set us up for an open-ended close from the start:

“The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, Son of God”. The suggestions is that gospel as written is not the whole story rather it sets the scene for a story that is just beginning[1].

Another perspective suggestion is that the women find the tomb empty because Jesus has better things to do. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus doesn’t wait around for the disciples to come and process the resurrection, to chat with him, to eat with him. Jesus gets on with what he has to do and leaves a messenger to remind the disciples (in this case the women) of something that he said while he was still alive – that they were to meet up with him in Galilee where it all began. They are to go back to the beginning, but they go back as people who are profoundly different from the people that they were at the start of their discipleship. Having experienced the ending, the disciples are sent back to the beginning from where they will be able to see the story with fresh eyes. The contradictions and confusion that they experienced during Jesus’ ministry will, hopefully, now make sense to them. With any luck they will now understand that Jesus’ suffering had a purpose and that his vulnerability was in fact a strength[2].

Yet another explanation for the abrupt ending is that while Mark is well aware of the importance of the resurrection for the story and for the disciples, he is equally conscious that the ambiguity that attended Jesus’ ministry will continue in the lives of believers. That is, despite the resurrection, the believing community will experience suffering and rejection. Like Jesus they will be misunderstood and sought out for the wrong reasons.

Then again, Mark might just be chiding the community (through the women) for their lack of faith. Three times Jesus has explicitly predicted his death and resurrection and three times the disciples showed by their response how little they understand. Now, three days after Jesus’ crucifixion, the women come to the tomb expecting to find a body when they had been promised a resurrection. It is possible that Mark is challenging the community for whom he writes to maintain an openness to the possibility that God will do the unexpected so that, unlike the women, they will not be caught by surprised, they will not be traumatized and confounded when God does not meet their expectations and they will trust that God will do what God has promised to do.

Centuries later the ending of Mark’s gospel presents us with a mystery – a mystery with a purpose. It asks us to consider:

Do we understand that we are part of the ongoing story of the gospel?

Are we able to accept and to live with the contradictions of the gospel – that it is in service and through suffering that we draw close to and are formed in the image of God?

Are we aware that as followers of Jesus life will not always be easy and that we can expect the same treatment from our contemporaries as he received from his?

Do we trust that God will do what God has promised to do?

Finally, have we locked God into one version of the story or are we alert, open and expectant – ready for God to do God’s next new thing?

Mark’s gospel does not end tidily because there are no tidy endings. Indeed the story of Jesus has not and will not come to an end.

 

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!

[1] David Lose. Working Preacher

[2] Lance Pape, Working Preacher

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Alone with ourselves

February 21, 2015

Lent 1 – 2015

Mark 1:9-14

Marian Free

In the name of God who loves us as we are and invites us to do the same. Amen.

During a recent visit to Hobart we visited both Port Arthur and the Female Factory[1]. The latter was particularly shocking. At both prisons there was provision for solitary confinement. An Englishman John Howard promoted the idea as a more effective means of reform than prison. His belief was, that in isolation from others a convicted person would be forced to reflect on and repent of their crimes. His idea was first put into practice in the United States, then England and from there to Van Dieman’s Land. Prisoners would be locked in a cell for twenty-three hours of every day and allowed one hour only to exercise and even then they wore masks to prevent them from communicating with each other. The walls of the cells were thick to ensure that the convicts couldn’t hear each other. To maintain an atmosphere of silence, the guards wore slippers and “spoke” to each other through sign language. Even during the compulsory Chapel Service the prisoners wore masks and were separated from each other in separate stalls.

The cells were so small that the hammocks on which the men slept had to be rolled up during the day. They had a small table and a chair so that they could work and a bucket for personal needs. In the United States both the Chaplains and Doctors noticed that an abnormally high number of prisoners developed what today we would call “mental illness” and advocated that the practice be abandoned. In Van Dieman’s Land, the Comptroller of Convicts, John Hampton, supported by the Commandant at Port Arthur was a fervent supporter of the system.

A particularly abhorrent part of the practice of solitary confinement was that known as the ‘the dumb cell’ or punishment cell. This cell lay behind four thick doors and was completely light and sound proof. (It is possible to go inside a cell today and if you draw the door to, there is absolutely no light. The cell was so small that anyone taller than myself (5’3”) would have found it impossible to lie down, let alone move around.) The practice was abandoned when Port Arthur closed, but it is still used today both as a form of punishment and as a means of torture.

It is difficult for us to imagine just how demoralising and isolating such a situation can be. Being alone without any distraction allows self-doubt to surface and depression to follow. In the 1800’s a Danish prisoner who experienced solitary confinement wrote: “one was ‘instantly overpowered’ by a ‘depressing’ and ‘poignant solitude’ that went against the natural desire of ‘both men of nature and men of culture’ for a social life. A perpetual emptiness grinds away and throws the prisoner into a condition which borders on insanity’.[2]

This is depressing stuff, but it illustrates the disorienting affect of silence and isolation. A person is left with only their own resources to keep them from madness. Every fear, every anxiety is given an opportunity to come to the surface and there are no distractions. Such an extreme form of isolation, isolation imposed, rather than chosen is beyond cruelty.

Isolation and silence that is freely chosen is quite different, though the lack of distraction and conversation has a similar effect – albeit to a much lesser extent. Our work, our families and our social life all have the benefit of taking our minds off our troubles, of giving our lives meaning and helping us to identify our place in the world. In the midst of everyday life we can see where we “fit”. We are able to balance our troubles and problems against the good things in life and recognise that so many others are much worse off than ourselves. Without these identifies, we are like a boat that has come lose from its moorings, we are cast adrift, with nothing to hold on to. We are forced to depend on our own resources, or to place our trust firmly in God.

For many in religious orders, isolation and silence are a lifestyle choice. Away from the world practitioners are able to come to a fuller understanding of themselves – their resources and their strengths, their poverty of spirit and their weaknesses. Unfettered by the concerns of everyday life, they are able to make themselves totally available to God. On a much smaller scale, a Religious Retreat (especially if it is silent) provides a similar sort of experience. The Retreatant comes to a deeper awareness of their true nature and a deeper relationship with God.

We are told that after Jesus’ baptism the Spirit “drove him into the wilderness” where for forty days he was alone with himself and with God. Whatever sense of mission Jesus had before this time, it seems that it was crystallised at his baptism. Spirit-driven or not, it would not be surprising that Jesus needed some time out to think, to consider whether he was really up to the task – after all, for all that he was divine he was also fully human. Could the human side of him really be placed at the service of the divine? Could his divinity really be expressed, without his being tempted to compete with God? The time in the wilderness would have shown him what he was really made of. The isolation and the loneliness would have forced him to totally rely on God. It seems that whatever happened in the wilderness, Jesus returned to the world with a clear sense of purpose and a willingness to accept whatever it was that God had in store for him.

During Lent we are invited, in some small way, to share Jesus’ wilderness experience. By “giving up” something for Lent we are given an opportunity to see what we are made of and by allowing God to fill the space that we have created. Compared to forty days alone in the wilderness, or a lifetime of silence in a religious order, forty days of going without in the comfort of our own home, in the company of family and friends is nothing at all.

Lent is a gift, not a chore, an opportunity not an imposition. May your Lenten observance be a fruitful time of self-examination and spiritual growth.

[1] Female prison

[2] http://www.insidetime.org/resources/Publications/Solitary_Confinement_PSJ181.pdf, More recent descriptions of the experience of solitary confinement can be found in the book Evil Cradling that describes the experience of Brian Keenan who was taken hostage in Lebanon in the 1980’s and the diary of Mohamedou Ould Slahi who has been incarcerated in Guantanamo Bay even though several years ago he was found to be innocent.

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