NOTES for Mar 15:43-47

Today in the Gospel we read about one manifestation of true human greatness. The faithfulness and love that moved Joseph of Arimathea are truly worthy of every praise and imitation. When every hope had ceased, when Jesus had died on the Cross and everything was over, at precisely that moment there remained people faithful to Him.

It is not easy to remain near the Crucified God. It is still harder to mourn His death. What did Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus, and Mary Magdalene experience and think on Holy Saturday, when the Lord lay in the tomb in the flesh? And how did Joseph dare to go in to Pilate to ask for the Body of Christ, disregarding both the laws about ritual defilement, since that morning the chief priests would not enter the house of the pagan Pilate, and the danger of being accused of complicity in the case of the Executed One? They pass through the horror of Friday and Saturday to the end and remain together with the One who has died and with His Mother. To be with God to the end, wherever He goes. And when He descends into hell, where people cannot go with Him, they weep and wait for Him on earth.

And this waiting does not remain in vain.

As soon as it became possible, the myrrh-bearing women went to anoint Jesus' body with special aromatic spices. When all the other disciples were asleep or in confusion, these women came to the tomb to do the little that was in their power. Without hesitation, they intended to pay the last honors to the body of their beloved Teacher, even though no one was with them who could roll the heavy stone away from the entrance of the cave.

They went by the path of the heart, not of reason. And on this path they were the first to meet the news of the Resurrection. The hearts of the myrrh-bearing women were so simple and open that they immediately believed the words of the angel, who told them about Jesus and showed them the empty tomb. To the other disciples the Lord appeared Himself, and He even allowed some to be convinced by touch that it was truly He. But those who learned about the Resurrection first were truly poor in spirit, because they demanded no proofs and no signs.

Mark describes the Resurrection as an event completely unexpected by everyone, including the disciples themselves. The women going to the tomb are concerned with only one problem: the stone that usually closed the entrance was too heavy for them, and they would not have been able to roll it away by themselves. They are not expecting any miracles anymore. Their Teacher is dead, and He went to His death voluntarily, so everything is over.

In reality, however, events unfold from the very beginning in a way completely different from what they expected. The very stone about which they had thought so much, and which seemed to them to be the main problem, caused them no trouble at all: it had already been moved away from the entrance. Everything that followed also proved entirely unexpected, unlike anything that could be expected according to the logic of our fallen world. Instead of death, the women who came to the tomb find life; instead of burial rites, for which they had come, they receive the news of the Resurrection.

The logic of the Kingdom has always been unlike the logic of the fallen world, and from the very beginning of its entry into the world this logic of the Kingdom has bewildered people who were not ready to meet it. And no one is ready, not even someone who personally heard about the Kingdom from the One who brought it into the world. Why, one might ask, should the women be frightened when they hear of their Teacher's resurrection? They must have heard about resurrection on the last day not only from Him, but also from others. Faith in the general resurrection was widespread among believing Jews, if not everywhere, then at least very widely. Only some representatives of the priestly elite and "liberal" thinking aristocrats did not believe in it, and all of them were more an exception to the general rule.

One could, of course, think that the women were simply frightened, as the apostles were later frightened when they saw the risen Jesus and took Him for a ghost, a shadow that had come out of the tomb. It is also possible that they were frightened when they saw the angel and understood who stood before them, since meetings with God's messengers were not always considered safe. But above all, they were frightened because they simply were not inwardly ready for something they knew about in principle and did not doubt as a reality when speaking of it "in general."

They believed in resurrection "in general," as everyone did, but they were not ready to believe in its reality here and now. Hence the fear, the flight, and, most importantly, the silence. It is impossible to bear witness to what has not yet truly entered one's own life, to what has not yet been understood and fully lived through. Later the time of witness would come, but not at once. It would come after Pentecost, when the Spirit of God would help the witnesses of the Resurrection understand what they had become witnesses of.

Those who came to the tomb were horrified when they saw the stone rolled away and the angel announcing the news of the Resurrection. Even after his words "do not be alarmed," they continue to feel fear to such a degree that at first they say nothing to anyone.

A meeting with the Higher always shakes a person; it evokes entirely natural fear even in those who were frightened neither by the possible anger of rulers nor by the hostility of "public opinion." But precisely the One who is higher than everything natural constantly says: "do not be afraid!" For He has brought joy.

The joy of the Resurrection, which remains joyful news, however incomprehensible it may seem.

The angel whom the women who have come to the Teacher's tomb meet gives them astonishing news: "He is risen." Thus a fact comes into the world that lies at the foundation of the Christian faith. I want to stress: not the idea of God-manhood, not the beauty of Jesus' moral teaching, but a fact. And Christianity is not theological constructions, but the acceptance of this fact into one's own biography. See how the content of the verse we have read helps this.

First of all, the news is brought by an angel, a messenger from God, which means the information he transmits has a supernatural level of truth. He begins with the words: "Do not be amazed." This is how God begins practically every contact of His with a human being, making it clear that His almightiness will not be directed against the person. "You seek Jesus of Nazareth": the matter is not an abstract idea, but a completely concrete Man who lived a real earthly life. "Who was crucified": without death, more precisely without sacrifice, still more precisely without an execution voluntarily accepted for my sins, Jesus has no relation to me, to my biography. "He is risen": this is the center of the message, meaning Christ's victory over death, every death, and therefore mine too. "He is not here": Christ cannot be "caught" by any place, including a tomb. He is free and able to free us.

But all this is not merely an abstraction, not a purely spiritual event: "See the place where He was laid." All this happens in time and space, where our own life also unfolds, now able to receive Christ's resurrection.

The women who came to the grave of the Master meet an Angel who announces them a tremendous news: "He is risen ". So comes in the event lying on the base of Christian life into the world. We would like to underline here the event, and not the idea of God incarnated, nor the beauty of Jesus’ moral teachings. Christianity is not a doctrinal formation, but rather the acceptance of this event in our biography. Let us look how the contents of the read verse help us in it.

The message is given above all by an angel, God’s messenger, and this means that the transmitted information is of a supernatural level of truthfulness. He {the angel} begins with the words " be not affrighted "; like this the Lord begins practically all His meetings with man, by letting him {the man} know that His omnipotence will not go against him. " Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth" - it is not about an abstract idea, but about a concrete Man, having lived a real life on earth. "Which was crucified" - Jesus would have had no relation with me, no concern for my biography without the death, exactly without the sacrifice, more exactly without His voluntary expiation because of my sins." He is risen" - here is the "heart" of the message, meaning the victory of Jesus on death, on any death, including ours. "He is not here" - Jesus can’t be "arrested" anywhere, even in the grave, He is free and capable to rescue us. All this is not an abstraction, nor only a spiritual fact: "behold the place where they laid Him" - all this takes place in time and space, where our life also take place, this life is now capable to be rise as Jesus.

Sometimes people who have remained unnoticed for a long time suddenly find themselves at the center of events. Thus, all at once, Joseph of Arimathea, whom the evangelist mentions, appears on the scene. Almost nothing is known about him except that he was a man of very high standing. What was Jesus to him? What was his relationship with Him? A secret disciple, as the other evangelists also say about him, but what did it mean to be His secret disciple? To give support in a situation where none of the open disciples could do anything, to use one's position so that the impossible would become possible? Yes, of course, that too. But the main thing was readiness.

In a certain sense it is easier to be an open disciple. Jesus, of course, tells all the disciples and everyone willing to hear that one must always keep watch, that spiritual laxity and the path into the Kingdom are incompatible. Still, for those who are constantly beside Him, it is easier in a certain sense. They see the Teacher with their own eyes; for them He is absolutely real at every moment of their life. The secret disciples, no doubt, communicated with Him much less often. He appeared to them and disappeared, and one could never say exactly when He would appear next.

The apostles experienced something similar during the Last Supper, when they understood that Jesus was going to leave them for a time. They did not know where He was going; they did not truly understand the Teacher and could not imagine what they would have to live through very soon. But they understood that, at any rate, now they would be left alone for some period of time, and a completely undefined one at that. They would not see the Teacher, would not hear Him, would not know where He was or what He was doing, and would not know what He would require of them when He returned.

This situation very much resembles the situation of every Christian today. We live in the age of the coming Kingdom, but when it will be completed no one knows except the Father. We cannot calculate any time frames here, even approximately. We can only live with the awareness that on any day everything can come to an end and the Savior can return.

One cannot prepare for that day in the way we prepare for one event or another in our world. We can usually imagine the events of our world somehow; we can at least try to think through and calculate what we may need, though how successful and adequate that calculation will be is another question.

But as for the Kingdom and the return of the Messiah, here we can neither imagine nor calculate anything. What remains is readiness as an inner spiritual state, presupposing the very spiritual alertness whose necessity Jesus spoke of and which His secret disciples constantly had to maintain: waiting for the Teacher's unexpected appearance and inwardly ready to do what is completely impossible to imagine in advance.

In the hour of suffering, those who were usually not especially active and were not in view were nearby. These were the silent women who served Christ and the apostles from their possessions; this was Joseph of Arimathea, who had long hidden his discipleship but now cast caution aside. Joseph, who was not afraid to go to Pilate to ask for the Body of the Executed One, also had the chance that day to serve Jesus with his possessions: a piece of cloth and a tomb. First of all, however, all those who buried the Lord served Him with faithfulness and unexpected steadfastness.

At decisive moments, when questions of life and death stand starkly before us, faith is proved not by theories, and problematic arguments recede into the background. What becomes most important are simple deeds filled with quiet courage and wordless love.

In the Gospel account of the Savior's crucifixion, the description of the triumph experienced by all who hated Jesus during His earthly life makes a special impression. Those who loved Him can only grieve and weep. Of course, this is only an apparent triumph; it simply throws into sharper relief what will happen very soon, three days later, when everything falls into place. But those three days still have to pass; they have to be lived through, and not even Jesus' closest disciples expected the Resurrection. Those days were all the harder because the triumph of the forces of evil was not some convention or staged scene; it was as real as Jesus' death on the cross itself. In essence, here at the foot of the cross, two realities, two worlds, came into contact with each other: the great world of God, and the small, limited little world of those who stand against God, separated from Him. But to those who find themselves in that little world, it always appears to be the only reality. And in that reality it is evil that triumphs, and it triumphs as truly as that little world itself is real. Physically, the great world of God and the little world of those who oppose God can exist in the same space and at the same time; those who belong to them can see one another and speak with one another. Spiritually, however, they are two different worlds, and on the day of the Last Judgment the distinction between them, formerly visible only to a few, becomes obvious to everyone: the great world of God becomes the Kingdom of which Jesus speaks, and the little world of those who oppose God becomes the outer darkness of the Gospel parable. In the outer darkness death triumphs; in the Kingdom, life. And the victory of darkness, which appears so real in the little world, turns out on the day of the Resurrection to be its real and complete defeat in the great world of God. Each person decides for himself which of these worlds to live in, just as those who stood at the foot of the cross on the day of the Savior's death made their own decision.

Today's reading may help us, to some degree, make sense of the sharpest question facing a person: how does almighty God allow the existence of suffering and evil, especially when it is always the purest and most innocent people who suffer? Today we are given a glimpse of how God relates to evil in the world. We read how the Lord Himself passes through the very thick of human suffering. He descends from heaven in order to share with humanity all the darkness, all the horror of its loneliness and pain. Jesus is abandoned by His disciples; He passes through the soldiers' mockery, the shameful procession to the place of execution, and the agonizing crucifixion on the cross. In order to drink to the end all the bitterness of human torment, He refuses to drink the wine with myrrh that would dull the pain.

The King of all the earth, the Son of God, is "numbered with the transgressors." He does not come down from the cross, so that He may pass through the most terrible thing: "My God! Why have You forsaken Me?" He passes through the darkness of God-forsakenness belonging to fallen humanity. After this He, like each of us, sinks into the cold of death. The veil in the temple, which separated God from people, was torn: the Son of God had walked the human path to the end. The few disciples who remained buried Him like any mortal man.

Such is God's answer to the existence of suffering on earth. He does not merely sympathize; He suffers with us completely, with us and for us.

Here is also our answer: Christians, each in his own measure, take part in the sufferings of Christ, suffer with the world, and in this way take part in Christ's redeeming sacrifice, and through this also in His Resurrection.

In the Gospel of Mark, the account of the Resurrection is much shorter than in the other Gospels; it fits into only twenty verses. And the basis of the account here, paradoxically, is the theme of unbelief or distrust toward the testimony of those who saw the Risen One (v. 8, 11, 13). It would seem that the apostles could and should have been glad to hear the news of the Resurrection, because only recently, just three days earlier, it had seemed to them that everything was already over and there was nothing more to wait for. Of course, there was an element of surprise and of the incredible in what was happening. But there was probably something else as well: unpreparedness to accept such a long-awaited surprise. Long-awaited indeed: most believing Jews of the Gospel era believed in the general resurrection on the last day and in the Last Judgment. In addition, Jesus had spoken to His disciples more than once about His death and about His Resurrection, which was to follow that death. And this very thing was least able to fit into the apostles' consciousness; that is why the news of the Resurrection turned out to be unexpected for them. Here, apparently, a general trait of fallen human nature shows itself: inconstancy. Of course, in principle none of the apostles would ever have doubted the general resurrection or the Last Judgment. Probably, in principle, even the resurrection of their Teacher would not have seemed impossible or incredible to them. But when it happened, it turned out that all this was precisely "in general" and "in principle." And not at all because the apostles' faith was weaker than the faith of their contemporaries or ours. It is simply that when centuries pass between a promise and its fulfillment, faith in what was promised becomes somewhat abstract. It ceases to be a concrete reality expected from day to day, as the first Christians expected the Second Coming promised by the Savior. What becomes the object of spiritual attention is not the promised event, but the expectation itself. It becomes the goal and content of religious life. And then it often turns out that, when what was promised arrives, those least ready for its arrival are precisely those who prepared for it longest and most actively. But when what has been awaited for so long does happen, each person has, as it were, to see and experience anew the new reality entering the world, a reality that brings an end to everything that came before, including the waiting itself. This is the last boundary; beyond it is the Kingdom.

Mark depicts the events after Christ's Resurrection very briefly. Almost every episode in this account is described in more detail in the other Gospels. Mark wants to emphasize the most important thing. So the disciples are hiding from persecution, overcome by grief and despair. Only certain women, who did not leave Jesus in the hour of His death, now want to pay Him their last duty and complete the burial they had not finished because of the Sabbath rest. It is to them, His most faithful followers, that the Angel announces the stunning, fearful, and at the same time joyful news: He has risen. He is not here. But the disciples cannot believe Mary Magdalene, to whom Jesus appeared, or the two other disciples who saw Him. They are so absorbed in their grief and despair that their hearts close themselves to hope, even though Jesus had repeatedly predicted His Resurrection to them. Finally, Jesus Himself appears among them and rebukes them for hardness of heart and unbelief. By His appearing He scatters their grief and fear.

The risen Savior sends the disciples to proclaim to "all creation" the joyful news of the new life that began with His Resurrection. He says that through faith and baptism a person already in this life enters salvation: liberation from slavery to fear, sin, death, and eternal condemnation. Christ names the miraculous signs and gifts now possessed by the new humanity, reborn and raised to life in God. The authority of Christ's disciples over death, illness, and dark powers is testimony to the presence of Christ Himself among them. Even now He lives among us and in us, blessing the preaching of the Gospel of Life.