“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 16:8).
The end.
That doesn’t seem right, does it? It can’t end there!
Oh – but it does end there. In your Bible, there’s more, I’m sure – there’s more in mine. What comes next might even be titled in a way that makes you curious: a “shorter” and “longer” ending, like this is some kind of choose your own adventure. Those were actually added later. Mark is considered the first gospel to land in written form, around the year 70; those endings date to the second and fourth centuries. What that means is – the original version stopped right there, with the first eye-witnesses to the resurrection running away, afraid, telling no one.
Y’all it’s like – the first cliffhanger!
Oh, I love a cliffhanger ending; love and hate it. Has anyone seen The Birds? At the end, did Mitch and Lydia escape, or was this just a pause in the birds’ attack? Or how about Inception? When the top spins and wiggles at the end of Inception – was it all a dream, or not? Or how about The Italian Job (2003) – a literal cliffhanger!
I hate a cliffhanger… but I also love it, because I love a good story that sucks you in. And a good cliffhanger does just that: long after the story is over, it lingers with us like a delicious infection.
Which is why I love the gospel of Mark and its original ending.
Imagine sitting around, listening to this story told and hearing it for the first time. A story about this “Jesus” who was claimed by God at his baptism. You listen as Jesus tells parables and asks questions, hangs out with sinners and heals the sick, coaches his disciples and stands up to the religious authorities. There’s something special about this guy!
About halfway through the story, the tone shifts and the tension rises: betrayal and arrest, questioning and mocking, crucifixion. Is all lost? Is the Jesus you were hoping for gone?
But there’s more! “Very early” on that Sunday morning, Mary Magdalene and Mary and Salome go to the tomb expecting to treat the body and… the tomb is empty?? A mysterious young man tells them, “He has been raised! Go tell his disciples to meet him in Galilee!”
You’re on the edge of your seat now, hooked on every word. That’s when the storyteller says: “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 16:8).
The end.
What? That’s it? No doubting Thomas, no appearing on the road to Emmaus, no fish for breakfast with the disciples? No actual sighting of a post-resurrection Jesus? A storyteller with a good cliffhanger is like a magician who won’t give up their secrets. All you get is a smile, a raised eyebrow, a playful shrug.
Now, we can solve that discomfort the way people already have: by filling in the blanks. A shorter ending, a longer ending – take your pick! Either one will scratch our itch for an ending. Yes: Jesus rose from the dead. There you go; feel better?
Or…
Or, we can sit with this cliffhanger ending and let our curiosity build.
What did happen, that Easter morning?
Did Jesus raise from the dead? Like for real, raise from the dead?
It’s okay to ask! Mark is practically begging us to ask! What happened there? What happened next? Mark wants us to find out in a way that only comes after the story is over and we’re left with this unsettled feeling that there is something more.
Have you ever felt that way? That incomplete feeling, like the end of a cliffhanger – this feeling inside that keeps whispering, “There’s got to be something more – something more to this story, something more to this life!”
I’ve felt that way.
That feeling is what led me to ask a thousand questions about God and to keep asking a thousand more.
That feeling has led me into meditation – something this hard extrovert never thought she’d do – because I want to see, if I sit quietly and listen, is there really anything there?
It’s followed me into tragedy and depression, where I’ve asked: is there any sign of the resurrection here?
It’s followed me to deathbeds – for my congregants, for people I loved – and to look for signs of that eternal life.
It’s led me into community, knowing how we humans can hurt one another, to see if it’s possible that we can love one another in a way that points to God.
And what did I find? What happened next? Do you want to know?
[Smile and shrug]
I wouldn’t dare spoil it for you. But I’ll give you hint: what I’ve found has all led me here, with you, today.
You know, in a few of the ancient manuscripts of Mark, the alternate endings finish with, “Amen.” We use “Amen” at the end of prayers so often that we might assume it means something like, “That’s all, I’m done, it is finished!” In that way it seems appropriate for someone to add that in as they’re trying to wrap up this story: “Amen, it is finished!”
But “Amen” means something different than that. It’s a Hebrew word that means “this is true” or “so be it.” In the Torah, the first five books of our Old Testament that includes a lot of the law, many of those instructions end with all the people saying “amen” as a sign of agreement: “Yes, this is true, so be it” – which implies that they will make it be so. Or, you might say, their “Amen” implies that they will finish the story.
This might be one way in which I agree with these later additions to Mark. Don’t mess with the cliffhanger ending – leave it as it is. But if you want to add an “Amen” in – hm. There might be something to that.
“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 16:8).
Amen; this is true, so be it.
Go, and finish the story yourself.
Prone to Wander 
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