THE INCREDULOUS DISCIPLES

'And when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of

James, and Salome, had bought sweet spices, that they might come and

anoint Him. 2. And very early in the morning, the first day of the

week, they came unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun. 3. And

they said among themselves, Who shall roll us away the stone from the

door of the sepulchre? 4. And when they looked, they saw that the

stone was rolled away: for it was very great. 6. And entering into the

sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in

a long white garment; and they were affrighted. 6. And he saith unto

them, Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, which was

crucified: He is risen; He is not here: behold the place where they

laid Him. 7. But go your way, tell His disciples and Peter that He

goeth before yon into Galilee: there shall ye see Him, as He said unto

you. 8. And they went out quickly, and fled from the sepulchre; for

they trembled and were amazed: neither said they anything to any man;

for they were afraid. 9. Now, when Jesus was risen early the first day

of the week, He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had

cast seven devils. 10. And she went and told them that had been with

Him, as they mourned and wept. 11. And they, when they had heard that

He was alive, and had been seen of her, believed not. 12. After that

He appeared in another form unto two of them, as they walked, and went

into the country. 13. And they went and told it unto the residue:

neither believed they them.'--Mark xvi. 1-13.

It is not my business here to discuss questions of harmonising or of

criticism. I have only to deal with the narrative as it stands. Its

peculiar character is very plain. The manner in which the first

disciples learned the fact of the Resurrection, and the disbelief with

which they received it, much rather than the Resurrection itself, come

into view in this section. The disciples, and not the risen Lord, are

shown us. There is nothing here of the earthquake, or of the

descending angel, or of the terrified guard, or of our Lord's

appearance to the women. The two appearances to Mary Magdalene and to

the travellers to Emmaus, which, in the hands of John and Luke, are so

pathetic and rich, are here mentioned with the utmost brevity, for the

sake chiefly of insisting on the disbelief of the disciples who heard

of them. Mark's theme is mainly what they thought of the testimony to

the Resurrection.

I. He shows us, first, bewildered love and sorrow. We leave the

question whether this group of women is the same as that of which Luke

records that Joanna was one, as well as the other puzzle as to

harmonising the notes of time in the Evangelists. May not the

difference between the time of starting and that of arrival solve some

of the difficulty? When all the notes are more or less vague, and

refer to the time of transition from dark to day, when every moment

partakes of both and may be differently described as belonging to

either, is precision to be expected? In the whirl of agitation of that

morning, would any one be at leisure to take much note of the exact

minute? Are not these 'discrepancies' much more valuable as

confirmation of the story than precise accord would have been? It is

better to try to understand the feelings of that little band than to

carp at such trifles.

Sorrow wakes early, and love is impatient to bring its tribute. So we

can see these three women, leaving their abode as soon as the doleful

grey of morning permitted, stealing through the silent streets, and

reaching the rock-cut tomb while the sun was rising over Olivet. Where

were Salome's ambitious hopes for her two sons now? Dead, and buried

in the Master's grave. The completeness of the women's despair, as

well as the faithfulness of their love, is witnessed by their purpose.

They had come to anoint the body of Him to whom in life they had

ministered. They had no thought of a resurrection, plainly as they had

been told of it. The waves of sorrow had washed the remembrance of His

assurances on that subject clean out of their minds. Truth that is

only half understood, however plainly spoken, is always forgotten when

the time to apply it comes. We are told that the disbelief of the

disciples in the Resurrection, after Christ's plain predictions of it,

is 'psychologically impossible.' Such big words are imposing, but the

objection is shallow. These disciples are not the only people who

forgot in the hour of need the thing which it most concerned them to

remember, and let the clouds of sorrow hide starry promises which

would have turned mourning into dancing, and night into day. Christ's

sayings about His resurrection were not understood in their, as it

appears to us, obvious meaning when spoken. No wonder, then, that they

were not expected to be fulfilled in their obvious meaning when He was

dead. We shall have a word to say presently about the value of the

fact that there was no anticipation of resurrection on the part of the

disciples. For the present it is enough to note how these three loving

souls confess their hopelessness by their errand. Did they not know,

too, that Joseph and Nicodemus had been beforehand with them in their

labour of love? Apparently not. It might easily happen, in the

confusion and dispersion, that no knowledge of this had reached them;

or perhaps sorrow and agitation had driven it out of their memories;

or perhaps they felt that, whether others had done the same before or

no, they must do it too, not because the loved form needed it, but

because their hearts needed to do it. It was the love which must

serve, not calculation of necessity, which loaded their hands with

costly spices. The living Christ was pleased with the 'odour of a

sweet smell,' from the needless spices, meant to re-anoint the dead

Christ, and accepted the purpose, though it came from ignorance and

was never carried out, since its deepest root was love, genuine,

though bewildered.

The same absence of 'calm practical common sense' is seen in the too

late consideration, which never occurred to the three women till they

were getting near the tomb, as to how to get into it. They do not seem

to have heard of the guard; but they know that the stone is too heavy

for them to move, and none of the men among the disciples had been

taken into their confidence. 'Why did they not think of that before?

what a want of foresight!' says the cool observer. 'How beautifully

true to nature!' says a wiser judgment. To obey the impulse of love

and sorrow without thinking, and then to be arrested on their road by

a difficulty, which they might have thought of at first, but did not

till they were close to it, is surely just what might have been

expected of such mourners. Mark gives a graphic picture in that one

word 'looking up,' and follows it with picturesque present tenses.

They had been looking down or at each other in perplexity, when they

lifted their eyes to the tomb, which was possibly on an eminence. What

a flash of wonder would pass through their minds when they saw it

open! What that might signify they would be eager to hurry to find

out; but, at all events, their difficulty was at an end. When love to

Christ is brought to a stand in its venturous enterprises by

difficulties occurring for the first time to the mind, it is well to

go close up to them; and it often happens that when we do, and look

steadily at them, we see that they are rolled away, and the passage

cleared which we feared was hopelessly barred.

II. The calm herald of the Resurrection and the amazed hearers.

Apparently Mary Magdalene had turned back as soon as she saw the

opened tomb, and hurried to tell that the body had been carried off,

as she supposed. The guard had also probably fled before this; and so

the other two women enter the vestibule, and there find the angel.

Sometimes one angel, sometimes two, sometimes none, were visible

there. The variation in their numbers in the various narratives is not

to be regarded as an instance of 'discrepancy.' Many angels hovered

round the spot where the greatest wonder of the universe was to be

seen, 'eagerly desiring to look into' that grave. The beholder's eye

may have determined their visibility. Their number may have

fluctuated. Mark does not use the word 'angel' at all, but leaves us

to infer what manner of being he was who first proclaimed the

Resurrection.

He tells of his youth, his attitude, and his attire. The angelic life

is vigorous, progressive, buoyant, and alien from decay. Immortal

youth belongs to them who 'excel in strength' because they 'do his

commandments.' That waiting minister shows us what the children of the

Resurrection shall be, and so his presence as well as his speech

expounds the blessed mystery of our life in the risen Lord. His serene

attitude of sitting 'on the right side' is not only a vivid touch of

description, but is significant of restfulness and fixed

contemplation, as well as of the calmness of a higher life. That still

watcher knows too much to be agitated; but the less he is moved, the

more he adores. His quiet contrasts with and heightens the impression

of the storm of conflicting feelings in the women's tremulous natures.

His garments symbolise purity and repose. How sharply the difference

between heaven and earth is given in the last words of verse 5! They

were 'amazed,' swept out of themselves in an ecstasy of bewilderment

in which hope had no place. Terror, surprise, curiosity, wonder, blank

incapacity to know what all this meant, made chaos in them.

The angel's words are a succession of short sentences, which have a

certain dignity, and break up the astounding revelation he has to make

into small pieces, which the women's bewildered minds can grasp. He

calms their tumult of spirit. He shows them that he knows their

errand. He adoringly names his Lord and theirs by the names recalling

His manhood, His lowly home, and His ignominious death. He lingers on

the thought, to him covering so profound a mystery of divine love,

that his Lord had been born, had lived in the obscure village, and

died on the Cross. Then, in one word, he proclaims the stupendous fact

of His resurrection as His own act--'He is risen.' This crown of all

miracles, which brings life and immortality to light, and changes the

whole outlook of humanity, which changes the Cross into victory, and

without which Christianity is a dream and a ruin, is announced in a

single word--the mightiest ever spoken save by Christ's own lips. It

was fitting that angel lips should proclaim the Resurrection, as they

did the Nativity, though in either 'He taketh not hold of angels,' and

they had but a secondary share in the blessings. Yet that empty grave

opened to 'principalities and powers in heavenly places' a new

unfolding of the manifold wisdom and love of God.

The angel--a true evangelist--does not linger on the wondrous

intimation, but points to the vacant place, which would have been so

drear but for his previous words, and bids them approach to verify his

assurance, and with reverent wonder to gaze on the hallowed and now

happy spot. A moment is granted for feeling to overflow, and certainty

to be attained, and then the women are sent on their errand. Even the

joy of that gaze is not to be selfishly prolonged, while others are

sitting in sorrow for want of what they know. That is the law for all

the Christian life. First make sure work of one's own possession of

the truth, and then hasten to tell it to those who need it.

'And Peter'--Mark alone gives us this. The other Evangelists might

pass it by; but how could Peter ever forget the balm which that

message of pardon and restoration brought to him, and how could

Peter's mouthpiece leave it out? Is there anything in the Gospels more

beautiful, or fuller of long-suffering and thoughtful love, than that

message from the risen Saviour to the denier? And how delicate the

love which, by calling him Peter, not Simon, reinstates him in his

official position by anticipation, even though in the subsequent full

restoration scene by the lake he is thrice called Simon, before the

complete effacement of the triple denial by the triple confession!

Galilee is named as the rendezvous, and the word employed, 'goeth

before you,' is appropriate to the Shepherd in front of His flock.

They had been 'scattered,' but are to be drawn together again. He is

to 'precede' them there, thus lightly indicating the new form of their

relations to Him, marked during the forty days by a distance which

prepared for his final withdrawal. Galilee was the home of most of

them, and had been the field of His most continuous labours. There

would be many disciples there, who would gather to see their risen

Lord ('five hundred at once'); and there, rather than in Jerusalem

which had slain Him, was it fitting that He should show Himself to His

friends. The appearances in Jerusalem were all within a week (if we

except the Ascension), and the connection in which Mark introduces

them (if verse 14 be his) seems to treat them as forced on Christ by

the disciples' unbelief, rather than as His original intention. It

looks as if He meant to show Himself in the city only to one or two,

such as Mary, Peter, and some others, but to reserve His more public

appearance for Galilee.

How did the women receive the message? Mark represents them as

trembling in body and in an ecstasy in mind, and as hurrying away

silent with terror. Matthew says that they were full of 'fear and

great joy,' and went in haste to tell the disciples. In the whirl of

feeling, there were opposites blended or succeeding one another; and

the one Evangelist lays hold of one set, and the other of the other.

It is as impossible to catalogue the swift emotions of such a moment

as to separate and tabulate the hues of sunrise. The silence which

Mark tells of can only refer to their demeanour as they 'fled.' His

object is to bring out the very imperfect credence which, at the best,

was given to the testimony that Christ was risen, and to paint the

tumult of feeling in the breasts of its first recipients. His picture

is taken from a different angle from Matthew's; but Matthew's contains

the same elements, for he speaks of 'fear,' though he completes it by

'joy.'

III. The incredulity of the disciples. The two appearances to Mary

Magdalene and the travellers to Emmaus are introduced mainly to record

the unbelief of the disciples. A strange choice that was, of the woman

who had been rescued from so low a debasement, to be first to see Him!

But her former degradation was the measure of her love. Longing eyes,

that have been washed clean by many a tear of penitent gratitude, are

purged to see Jesus; and a yearning heart ever brings Him near. The

unbelief of the story of the two from Emmaus seems to conflict with

Luke's account, which tells that they were met by the news of Christ's

appearance to Simon. But the two statements are not contradictory. If

we remember the excitement and confusion of mind in which they were,

we shall not wonder if belief and unbelief followed each other, like

the flow and recoil of the waves. One moment they were on the crest of

the billows, and saw land ahead; the next they were down in the

trough, and saw only the melancholy surge. The very fact that Peter

was believed, might make them disbelieve the travellers; for how could

Jesus have been in Jerusalem and Emmaus at so nearly the same time?

However the two narratives be reconciled, it remains obvious that the

first disciples did not believe the first witnesses of the

Resurrection, and that their unbelief is an important fact. It bears

very distinctly on the worth of their subsequent conviction. It has

special bearing on the most modern form of disbelief in the

Resurrection, which accounts for the belief of the first disciples on

the ground that they expected Christ to rise, and that they then

persuaded themselves, in all good faith, that He had risen. That

monstrous theory is vulnerable at all points, but one sufficient

answer is--the disciples did not expect Christ to rise again, and were

so far from it that they did not believe that He had risen when they

were told it. Their original unbelief is a strong argument for the

reliableness of their final faith. What raised them from the stupor of

despair and incredulity? Only one answer is 'psychologically'

reasonable: they at last believed because they saw. It is incredible

that they were conscious deceivers; for such lives as they lived, and

such a gospel as they preached, never came from liars. It is as

incredible that they were unconsciously mistaken; for they were wholly

unprepared for the Resurrection, and sturdily disbelieved all

witnesses for it, till they saw with their own eyes, and had 'many

infallible proofs.' Let us be thankful for their unbelief and its

record, and let us seek to possess the blessing of those 'that have

not seen, and yet have believed!'

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