Ernest Hemingway: the American author who received the Nobel Prize in Literature for the year 1954. Hemingway wrote many full-scale novels, like For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940), and a novella, The Old Man and the Sea (1952), but he was once challenged to pen a whole story in the compass of just six words. And here's the result: "For sale: baby shoes, never used."
Hemingway believed these six words to say everything we readers need to know in order to take this story of his and run with it on our own, filling in the gaps from our own experiences in life. And rumor has it that Hemingway considered these six words to be his greatest work." (BlackBook, Fall, 2004; visit www.blackbookmag.com)
Well, two years ago, the editors of BlackBook magazine, having been reminded of this short masterpiece, announced a "Hemingway Competition," and they asked twenty-five of today's most renowned writers to send in their own original six-word stories to be published in the Fall, 2004 issue. (Ibid.)
The offerings submitted included these gems: By Rebecca Miller, "As she fell, her mind wandered." By Tobias Wolff, "She gave. He took. He forgot." By Edward Albee, "Poison; meditation; skiing; ants—nothing worked." By Norman Mailer, "Satan—Jehovah—fifteen rounds. A draw."
Each of these short short-stories is wonderfully evocative, isn't it! And each of them does tell us readers everything we need to know in order for us to take that story and run with it in our own, filling in the gaps from our own experiences in life.
Now, all of this set me to wondering what my favorite six-word story is. Hemingway's? Albee's? Mailer's? And then it came to me, in a flash, that my favorite is actually one that's very, very much older than any of these I've so far quoted. For my favorite comes from the Gospel of Mark, and it goes like this (in 16:6): "'He's not here! He's been raised!'"
And after I'd come to this conclusion, it popped into my mind, I have to confess, that if anyone were ever going to write a sequel to Mark's short short-story, they could just borrow the opening of Norman Mailer's and then give his offering quite a different twist at the end. Thus: "Satan—Jehovah—fifteen rounds. Jehovah wins!"
But let's go back to Mark's story: "'He's not here! He's been raised!'" These six words of Mark's do tell us readers all we need to know in order for us to take this story of his and run with it on our own, filling in the gaps from our own experiences of the risen Christ, from our own experiences of newness in life and revived hope.
Yes, it's these six words of Mark's that communicate the most important message of all time—the message, "He lives!" "Jesus lives!"—which of course leads us back to our special Easter affirmation! So, are you ready? OK, let's do it again!
Christ is risen! [Christ is risen indeed!]
Christ is risen! [Christ is risen indeed!]
Alleluia! [Alleluia!]
Yes, God has actually gone and done it! God has raised Jesus from the dead. God has gone toe to toe with Satan and death, and has won! And by doing so, God has vindicated the goodness of Jesus, and God has validated the good news that Jesus preached to the poor, the outcast, and the oppressed. Yes, God has raised Jesus from the dead. "He's not here! He's been raised!"
So, Easter is our day of utmost joy, the day of our most exuberant celebrations! For in raising Jesus, God has both vanquished death and offered us all eternal life and love!
Christ is risen! [Christ is risen indeed!]
Christ is risen! [Christ is risen indeed!]
Alleluia! [Alleluia!]
Now scholars have long wondered why the Gospel of Mark ended as it originally did—exactly where this morning's Second Lesson ended—without telling any story at all about a post-resurrection appearance by the risen Jesus to the women who visited the tomb, or to Peter, or to the Eleven, or to anyone else for that matter. Yes, the Gospel of Mark just seems to end its account of that first Easter morning—indeed, its account of the whole of Jesus's life—in a very odd way. I mean really odd! Listen (quote): "And [the women] said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid ... (dot, dot, dot)" Fini! Curtain down! The End!
Indeed, this is such an odd concluding scene for a gospel that a few have wondered if something tragic might have overtaken Mark at that point. One person has even speculated—quite fancifully, mind you—that maybe Mark just then slumped over dead from a heart attack, or maybe a Roman soldier suddenly walked up behind him and said, "You're done, son! Put down your pen. You're under arrest!" (cf. Barbara Brown Taylor, in Journal for Preachers, Easter, 2006, p. 43)
At any rate, the surprise and shock of Mark's ending was doubtless the reason that Christians in the next century undertook to add to various of the manuscripts of this gospel one or another different ending, one that would at last provide Mark's readers with some accounts of appearances by the risen Jesus.
But as for me, I've now come to believe that maybe Mark brought his gospel to such an abrupt ending precisely because he considered the brief six-word story spoken to these women to be quite sufficient, that maybe Mark felt the brief account given by that mysterious "young man" in the tomb is all we really do need to know in order for us to take the story of Jesus's resurrection and run with it in our own minds and hearts. Yes, "'He's not here! He's been raised!'"—that says enough! Nothing more is necessary.
Of course, as Mark tells it, those first women—Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome—once they'd heard the "young man's" six-word story, those women did "run with it" on their own. But initially that running of theirs was a frightened flight marked by total silence. And we are told nothing at all of their ever sharing those six words with anyone else!
Still, every reader in Mark's audience would surely have understood that those women did not remain silent forever, that they did eventually find their tongues and tell the other disciples the good news that Jesus was not in the tomb and had been raised. Otherwise, there would never have been a Gospel of Mark written at all!
You see, had the women maintained a frightened silence forever there would have been no ongoing Christian community; there would have been no reason to write or to read a gospel. Without the resurrection and the women's testimony to it, the Jesus movement would have been stopped dead in its tracks, right there at the tomb. And we would never have come to know that all-important six-word story. But the fact is the women did overcome their fear, and, as a result, Mark did come to know their story.
So I believe that, as Mark was writing the conclusion to his gospel some forty years after that first Easter morning, the reason why he wrote it the way he did was because he believed that the overall story of the resurrection was as yet unfinished, and would remain unfinished until every one of us readers could, like those first women, overcome our fearfulness in the face of this Good-Friday world of ours, and take that six-word story—"'He's not here! He's been raised!'"—and run with it on our own, adding to it our own conclusion, one not written by others but drawn from our very own experiences in life.
The media have been filled of late with monstrously tragic news of Good-Friday-like events, news of unremitting violence and terror, both at home and abroad. You know this news. I don't need to recite it.
And so it is quite easy for us, as it was for those two Mary's and Salome of old, to approach Jesus's tomb thinking that the principalities and powers of this world are somehow managing to put tenderness, goodness, and righteousness to death, that the struggle between Satan and Jehovah is not even a draw, but actually for God a loss.
Yet I believe Mark wanted each and every one of us readers to take his six-word story and run with it, shaping it into our own account of how life has come to be reaffirmed by us in the face of death, our own account of how our personal experiences of tears shed, of pain sustained, and of death remembered have come to be transformed into experiences of composure regained, of joy restored, and of life renewed.
One person who's taken the six-word story of Easter found in Mark and run with it on her own is the contemporary poet Ann Weems, a colleague and friend of mine who just happens to be Presbyterian! Weems has had to face her own Good-Friday event, the murder of her son, and yet even in the face of that tragedy she is able to give voice to her own vibrant Easter faith. And one of her poems in particular captures for me the pure joy of the Easter news that death has not triumphed, that Jesus lives! That poem of hers is entitled "Easter Morning," and it's printed on the front cover of today's order of service so that you can read it again at home. But for right now, please just sit back and listen to it!
"The stirring wildness of God
calls brittle bones to leaping
and stone hearts to soaring.
Old Women dance among the stars."
Ann Weems, Kneeling in Jerusalem (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1992), p. 93.
And why are these Old Women dancing among the stars? Well, it's because: "He's not here! He's been raised!" Jesus lives!
Yes, he lives! And that's such great news that we should stand and sing out one more time the response printed on page 4 in today's bulletin. George, strike up the band, and please play it for us once through!
He lives, he lives, Christ Jesus lives today!
In all the world I see his love, so I will never despair.
He lives, he lives, lift up your voice and sing!
You ask me how I know he lives?
He lives within my heart.
Yes: Christ is risen! [Christ is risen indeed!]
Christ is risen! [Christ is risen indeed!]
Alleluia! [Alleluia!]
And while we remain standing, let us pray:
Gracious Lord of Life, we thank You that the story of Jesus does not end on the cross. We thank You that the story of Jesus does not end at the tomb. We thank You that the story of Jesus continues on, that that story has not yet ended, and that, in truth, it will never end. We thank you that Christ is eternally alive, coming to us to offer the grace of abiding hope and joy and, through us, to transform the world. Alleluia. Amen.