Life After Death_ A History of the Afterlife in Western Religion - Alan Segal [272]
The later Gospels describe the young man as an angel, though Mark did not. Yet, that was a safe inference for Mark’s intention; even the most primitive tradition, here in Mark, must mean that the young man (neaniskos) in a white robe sitting on the right side was an angel.9 But, if so, it is interesting to note the way in which Mark deliberately underplays his narrative, letting the reader make the reasonable conclusion.
The answer of the young man: “Do not fear!” also is typical of angelophanies. Significantly, the angelic message is a short statement of Christian kerygma: “Jesus … the crucified has been raised, he is not here.” The presence of the angel, therefore, shows that the story is being treated as an apocalyptic angelophany and revelation. It was, as well, tailored for missionary purposes. Like Paul, this Christian variety of apocalypticism seems at first devoid of the florid imagery of visions that apocalypticism often produced. This simplicity is better suited for missionary purposes, as florid imagery was an intellectual, exegetical tradition, which would have confused ordinary gentile and Jew alife. Here, in a popular context among Jews and in the gentile mission, there would be little reason to propound complicated, symbolic visions based on Biblical models. The church needed, short, pithy statements of its core beliefs which could be used in mission and liturgy.10
In the narrative, the angel functions to defeat any criticism, which must have been early and serious, that the empty tomb was due to the theft of the cadaver or a resuscitation. Paul’s discussion of this in 1 Corinthians 1 leaves us in no doubt about the early presence and seriousness of the criticism of the Christian proclamation. But, as historians, the issue is otherwise. It is neither clearly false nor clearly true. Scholars who look to this moment to confirm or deny faith are asking too much, historically, from this religious narrative.
Mark 16:8, which closes the shorter ending of the Gospel, is one of the most portentous endings in literature: “And, going out, they fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Apparently, the word got out.
This is no way to end a Gospel! The ending is, however, the effect of artifice, for no Greek sentence can properly end with the word gar. It is even more difficult than ending a sentence with the word “furthermore” in English because grammatically gar should not be the last word in a sentence. Consequently, the current Gospel has been artifically separated from its true, original ending. In context, this phrase is followed by the commissioning of the disciples, in either the shorter or longer versions. There is no telling whether we have the original ending somewhere in the shorter ending, somewhere in the longer ending, or it simply disappeared. Possibly, the Gospel of Matthew preserves it, as it parallels Mark generally; but it is impossible to identify. The one sure thing is that the current critical text was not the Gospel’s intended ending.
The empty tomb has considerable narrative value, even though it does not present us with an indubitable historical truth, like the lack of witness to the resurrection itself. It is always conceivable that, against our best logic, it actually happened. But, even if it did, the story of the empty tomb is not a particularly strong affirmation of the central events of Christianity, especially