Afraid.

That’s the last word in the traditional short ending of Mark. Afraid. Certain ancient manuscripts end the story there, with the women fleeing in terror and amazement, saying nothing to anyone because they were afraid.

If, in fact, Mark ended the Gospel there, it’s an odd ending, to say the least. It would seem logical if that were the original ending that someone might be tempted to come along behind and tidy things up a bit, don’t you think?

An empty tomb and screaming women don’t make for very edifying pep talks about self-actualization, do they? It sounds more like the ending to a B-horror flick. The camera slowly moves back to the place where the body is supposed to lay. The music swells. Nothing. No body. Roll credits.

You sort of get that feeling reading today’s text. If you pay attention, you can understand why the last word might focus on their fear. The body of Jesus is supposed to be there, but it’s not—only a strange, unidentified young man who says that Jesus has been raised.

Frankly, it doesn’t seem too big a stretch to understand the women’s consternation. He was supposed to be there. He’s not there. Afraid. It makes sense.

But Easter and fear don’t often keep company in our society. Easter, the way we celebrate it nowadays, has more to do with pastels and chocolate bunnies. And if it’s not entirely a commercial venture, then it’s at least a happy festival celebrating the return of the robins in spring and butterflies breaking out of their cocoons. Nothing threatening or scary about any of that.

When I was in southeastern Kentucky, I was a part of a program called, “Real Men Read.” I would go in every Wednesday and read to the first-graders, many of whom never got to hear a story read in a man’s voice.

It was Appalachia. We lived in the congressional district with the highest rate of illiteracy in the country.

One time, just before Easter, I asked them whether they had any big plans for the holiday. A chorus of “Yesses.” “What are you going to do,” I asked.

Candy. Easter baskets. Eggs. You know the drill.

Patti, the teacher, jumped in, “Does anyone know the real reason we celebrate Easter?”

Bunnies. Spring. More candy and Easter baskets.

Finally, someone said, “That’s when Jesus rose from the grave.”

“Very good,” I said.

“Maybe Derek will tell us the story of Easter,” Patti said enthusiastically.

I was aware of the whole church/state separation thing, but what the heck, right?

So I gave a brief recap of the events leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion.

They were following along pretty well it seemed. Then I got to the part about where they laid him in the tomb, and Schuyler asked, “What’s a tomb?”

“A tomb,” I said, “is a sort of a cave.”