For hundreds and hundreds of years, biblical scholars regarded the Gospel according to Saint Mark as the least significant of the four Gospels, and hardly worthy of scholarly attention. So many lines of identical text from the Gospels written by Matthew and Luke appear in Mark’s version that scholars concluded that the work of our patron saint was a late development, and that it was produced as a kind of abbreviation of the two other so-called synoptic Gospels. Almost universally, for all those centuries, the Gospel according to St. Matthew was considered to be the oldest account of the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth. So entirely derivative was Mark’s Gospel thought to be that it was hardly even studied.
I will spare you even a few details of the area of biblical study known as source criticism - it’s easy enough to look up yourself. Suffice it to say that it wasn’t until the nineteenth century that a major shift in thought about how the Gospels were written posited that, in fact, Matthew was not the first evangelist, but Mark was, and that his account of the Gospel was, in all likelihood, written first; and that St. Matthew and St. Luke must have had St. Mark’s work in front of them while they wrote. (St. John’s Gospel is a whole other story. No time for that here, but it came later.) This theory, which asserts the primacy of St. Mark’s writing, is by far the most strongly held consensus (though not universally) in biblical studies today. The work of our patron saint is regarded by most as the first and oldest extant foundational text that tells the story of Jesus.
This morning we heard what is called the longer ending of Mark’s Gospel, which I hope left you feeling a little uncomfortable. This longer ending of the work proclaims that the faithful followers of Jesus will be known by various signs: they will cast out demons, speak in tongues, handle deadly snakes, drink poison without effect, and perform miraculous healings. All this, after having also proclaimed that, while the baptized will be saved, the unconverted will be condemned. How’s that for good news?
Well, it’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it? But from the perspective of a progressive Episcopalian in a multi-cultural society, this ending to the story of Jesus and his followers is a bit uncomfortable.
In her wisdom, the church provides the option to read today the beginning of St. Mark’s Gospel instead of this longer ending, since this longer ending leaves so many of us feeling a bit awkward, to say the least.
It is, however, not an option today to simply read the shorter ending of Mark’s Gospel. The shorter ending tells of the three women who discovered the empty tomb of Jesus, with the stone rolled away. At the tomb, the women encounter an angel who tells them that Jesus is not there, “He is risen,” the angel says, “... go tell his disciples.” And the last verse of the shorter ending of Mark’s Gospel says this, “So they went out quickly and fled from the tomb, for they trembled and were amazed. And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” How’s that for good news?
The women said nothing to no one... because they were afraid. …umm…Alleluia?!? This account lacks a certain... verve, does it not? It lacks a certain... energy. It lacks a certain... excitement. It lacks a certain…hopefulness. It’s not what you would call inspirational. “They were afraid!” Yeah!…?
Early readers of this first Gospel may have found the ending to be what you might call wanting, when it came to a proclamation of the good news of the resurrection. In a word, it didn’t preach! And, remember, they didn’t have Matthew’s, or Luke’s, or John’s Gospels handy. Mark’s was most likely the first. His words were the foundation, the beginning of the tradition. Nothing else to compare it to. And when you get to the end of it, the last word you hear of the first witnesses of God’s most decisive act of salvation in the resurrection of Jesus is that they were afraid! (Can I have an Alleluia?!?) Well, it doesn’t really lend itself to Alleluias, does it?
So, the theory goes, that some clever and enthusiastic believer added a bit to the end of Mark’s work in order to make it good news-y, more gospel-y... in order to make it more plausible, frankly, as a proclamation of saving grace. In order to make it preach! They did not consider the possibility that liberal, well educated thinkers of the 21st century might conclude that the promise of snake handling would make the story less appealing, not more; less believable, not more; less plausible, not more.
And so, modern church leaders who make the decisions about what biblical texts we should read as we celebrate the church’s feasts, have decided that a proclamation about exorcisms, speaking in tongues, snake handling, poison drinking, and miraculous healings... this particular proclamation of the resurrection need not be read aloud in places like Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, where this text might easily be found… off-putting. After all, scholarly consensus agrees that this longer ending of Mark’s Gospel could not possibly have been actually written by St. Mark (whoever he was) - the content and style of the writing differ so vastly from the rest of the work that it’s clearly an add-on.
So, we are given the option today of reading the beginning of Saint Mark’s Gospel, instead of the ending. The passage we could have read ends with these words, “... the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news!” How’s that for good news? Not bad, right? It preaches, does it not?
But I, your rector, have long had a soft spot for the longer ending of Saint Mark’s Gospel. (And not because of the snake handling.) I have long had a special place in my heart for the very last verse of the longer ending of Saint Mark’s Gospel, no matter who wrote it, no matter who added it on, no matter if it is part of the original work of our patron saint, or not. This is what it says in the last verse of the longer ending of Mark’s Gospel: “And they went out and proclaimed the good news everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that accompanied it.”
Never you mind about the signs (the snake handling, the tongues, the poison, etc.). But do take note - not only of the account that “they proclaimed the good news everywhere,” - but also take note of the good word that “the Lord worked with them!” Yes, let me say that again, “the Lord worked with them.” You heard that, right? The Lord worked with them! Can I have an Alleluia now?
I mean, we are now more than a year into a pandemic that has killed hundreds of thousands, sickened millions, and disrupted every aspect of our lives. Our churches have been closed, mind you - closed! - shut up, doors locked, people told to stay away, children forbidden from singing - for more than a year, throughout this city. Bold as we are on Locust Street, when we have been open, we have permitted as many as twenty of you, or sometimes forty, maybe even fifty of you to come to church (which seats 400). And of course we have Zoomed… oh, have we Zoomed!
What I am saying is: it hasn’t been a year of much good news. It has often felt as though, driven by caution, we Episcopalians (and others, too) might be a church proclaiming a message that’s been shaped by fear… as though we might be believers who hold fast to a Gospel that ends in fear. And I have to tell you, as far as I am concerned, that does not preach! (Not very easily, anyway.)
But I don’t need to cast out demons, I don’t need to speak in tongues, I don’t need to handle snakes, I don’t need to drink poison, and I don’t need to heal or be healed miraculously to find a Gospel that does preach, in the midst of the troubles and woes, the sorrows and the horrors, the failures and the sins of this world.
All I need is this: to know that the Lord is working with us, that the Lord is working with me and with you. Yes, the Lord is working with us; just as the risen Lord worked with those first followers of Jesus, who found themselves looking into his empty tomb, and running away from it in fear. And still, the Lord was working with them!
How else do you account for the fact that we are here on Locust Street, two thousand years later, worshiping the risen Christ?!? It’s not because Saint Mark was the first or the best teller of the story. It’s because the Lord was working with them!
The Lord was working with them, and the Lord is working with us, too! You know that, don’t you? That the Lord is working with us?
As far as I’m concerned it’s the only plausible explanation of why we’re still here, worshiping God, saying our prayers, serving the hungry and the poor, teaching children to sing, and to pray, and to know that each and everyone of them (and all their friends who don’t come to church, too) each of them is a child of God, beloved of God, and nothing, not even this dread disease, not even miserable pandemic, not even this cruel virus will stop us, if the Lord is working with us. How’s that for good news? Does it preach? Can I have an Alleluia now?
It sometimes feels that the church is more in touch with the fear at the shorter ending of Mark’s Gospel than with the confidence that the Lord is working with us that you encounter at the end of the longer ending. And if it’s a challenge to get past the condemnation of those who are unbaptized; and to get through the exorcisms, the speaking in tongues, the snake handling, the poison, and the miraculous healing, to get to the part where the good news is proclaimed everywhere, and the Lord is known to be working with them, (with us), then I say, let’s work on getting past all the stuff that worries and troubles, and bothers us. Let’s put it all in a chapel somewhere to pray about it later. Let’s light a candle and let God deal with it. And let’s get on with the proclamation! Let’s get on with the Lord working with us! Let’s remember, every single day of our lives, that when Jesus rose from the dead and ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand of God, it was because, from there, he could work with us most powerfully.
But let us not be satisfied to let our faith cary us all the way to the empty tomb… all the way to Easter… and then run away in fear! Let us have the courage to work through whatever challenges face us, confident that the Lord is working with us! Let us be assured that, throned on high, the Lord is working with us! Let us proclaim it everywhere with confidence and hope - that the Lord is working with us! Let us not fear, even in the face of all the troubles that beset us, for the Lord is working with us! Let us never forget that the Lord is working with us!
Can I have an Alleluia now? Will that preach? How’s that for good news?
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
The Feast of Saint Mark the Evangelist 2021
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
