“He said to them, ‘Don’t be startled. You’re looking for Jesus of Nazareth, the one crucified. He’s been raised and isn’t here. See, here’s the place they laid him'” (Mark 16.6).
How can this figure say that with a straight face? How can he possibly say without a trace of irony for anyone—the women or us as readers—not to be startled? The tomb, where the dead are laid to rest and remain, is empty. The dead isn’t where they’d left them.
It’s something anyone who’s seen a horror movie or two knows: the missing body is meant to frighten. Shot, burned, slain the fallen figure should stay right where they are. It is why the music swells or grows dissonant when the camera turns to show us the autumn grass where they had just been.
Perhaps the statement is meant as irony. Maybe it’s said for us, years and years removed from this moment, to prick our minds and leave us wondering why we aren’t startled as we encounter this figure in the narrative. Has telling and retelling taken the surprise out of this revelation? Are we pretending, on Sunday morning or in our evening devotions, that we would not be taken aback if we encountered this emptiness?
It may be that this it is meant to startle us just the same as the abrupt ending to this Gospel account. It’s meant to touch that fear that scary movies and tales try to invoke: that all bets are off because, if we cannot count on the dead to remain dead, nothing is certain. Anything might happen.
I think that is the intent of this Gospel’s author. They’re trying to convey that the game has changed, and the rules may change at any moment. And we can do nothing but continue to play along. If death is no longer the guaranteed stop we’ve known and, to be honest, expected it to be, then what guarantees and certainties are there?
What else is unknown, no longer locked behind the stone? Could it be that nothing is beyond forgiveness and grace? Does it mean that this brief life we’re given isn’t it, that there is more beyond what we think is the end? Can it mean that hope is like stubborn spring growth and will press and push until it finds its way into the light?
And, if so, how should we live in such a world?
Jesus, startle us with hope.