Because Mark’s gospel breaks off in such unexpected fashion (Mark 16:8), a couple of people in the second or third century tacked on an ending: we now call these “the longer ending” (16:9-20) and “the shorter ending” (no verse numbers, but included as a footnote in most Bibles). Neither of these endings was part of the original text of Mark; each was added by a different well-meaning person who didn’t like how Mark ended his gospel so abruptly.

But there’s actually some serious literary and theological sophistication in the way Mark stops so suddenly. The young man in white (not specifically identified in Mark as an angel) had just announced to the women that Jesus was raised from the dead, and had given them a message for the other disciples (16:5-7). The women then fled from the tomb, and said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid (16:8). And that’s the end of the book.

Except, as we all know, it’s not the end of the story. If it were, then none of us would ever have heard of Jesus. Yet here we are, reading and telling the story of Jesus in the present day. The message of Jesus’ resurrection has been going strong all down the centuries. The first readers of Mark, around the year 60 AD, already knew that the story didn’t end with the women never breaking their silence. And that gave those first readers – and all the readers between then and now – the ability to recognize that even if the women were scared and ran away and didn’t say anything at first, later on they must have found their courage and their voice and told everyone what they had seen and heard.

I get that. I’ve been scared, too. I’ve kept silent when I should have spoken. In my brokenness and fear I have arrived at what seemed to be the last line of the story and it was coming out wrong. By breaking off his gospel right here, Mark enables you and me and all the rest of us to see that what looked like total running-away failure was not the end of the story for the women, or for the gospel: and it need not be the end of the story for us, either.

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We fail so often, Jesus. It’s because we are afraid: afraid of what your resurrection might mean, afraid to declare your message, afraid of what people will say. We give you thanks that in your mercy you keep finding second chances for us. Enable us to recover our courage and our voice, that we may declare your gospel to all the world.