inspiral blog

Image: F ring
Saturn’s F ring consists of several strands, some of which are barely visible. This is a view captured by the Cassini spacecraft on Nov. 15, 2004.

Saturn surprise: Ring is actually a spiral
Outer wisp of material wraps around planet several times, scientists say.

By Robert Roy Britt
Senior science writer
Updated: 5:20 p.m. ET Nov. 28, 2005

Ever since Voyager 1 returned detailed images of Saturn’s F ring back in 1980, astronomers have struggled to understand its bizarre features.

The F ring, an outer thin wisp of icy material orbiting the giant planet, was discovered in 1979. It’s been described as having clumps, strands and braids by various research groups.

An animation released last December showed the features, described as kinks, moving through time.

Turns out none of these descriptions was right, according to a new study using data and images from NASA’s Cassini spacecraft and led by Sebastien Charnoz at the University of Paris.

“These strands, initially interpreted as concentric ring segments, are in fact connected and form a single one-arm trailing spiral winding at least three times around Saturn,” Charnoz and colleagues write in the Nov. 25 issue of the journal Science.

The concept is best explained in an artist’s conception.

Charnoz’s team made computer simulations to explore the spiral’s origin. The new explanation raises more questions than it answers.

“The newly reported spiral is in a class by itself,” says Mark Showalter, a SETI Institute researcher who wrote an analysis of the discovery for Science.

And it is changing rapidly. The spiral wound itself tighter between November 2004 and May 2005, the Cassini observations show. It will continue to tighten until the strands blend into a more uniform feature, Showalter said.

Prometheus and Pandora, near the F ring, have long been seen as playing a shepherding role, keeping ring particles together and tugging out the curious features. But their role is likely more disruptive than shepherding, Showalter now says.

This Voyager image is one of the first pictures that revealed the kinks in Saturn’s F ring. The faintest features have been enhanced in blue to make them more visible.

Charnoz and colleagues say a recently discovered small moon catalogued as S/2004 S6 is involved. This moonlet — or it may be just a tight clump of material — can intersect the F ring at high speeds.

But none of these objects fully explains the F ring.

Showalter speculates that some other unknown large object may have collided with the F ring. The moonlet S/2004 S6 may be a leftover of that collision, he figures.

Saturn’s rings were originally spotted by Galileo shortly after the invention of the telescope. The astronomer Domenico Cassini discovered the Cassini division in Saturn’s rings in the 17th Century.

The ring system begins from the inside out in this order: D, C, B, A, F, G, E.
© 2005 Space.com. All rights reserved.

We spent this week hearing at least one side of the anti-terrorism law debate.

Terry Hicks (father of David Hicks, who has been in Guantanamo Bay for 4 years without charge or trial) and Mamdouh Habib (who was tortured and kept without charge in Guantanamo Bay for four years before being released) were amongst the speakers as well as Brian Walters, a barrister and president of Liberty Victoria.

The whole night was pretty harrowing really, particularly in terms of the stories told by Terry Hicks and Mamdouh Habib, but also in terms of the picture that was built up of the abuses of power by the American and Australian militaries and governments.

Brian Walters began by telling the story of how David Hicks had asked for some reading material, and one of his lawyers had tried to give him a copy of Harper Lee’s classic To Kill A Mockingbird, only to have the prison refuse, saying it was “too subversive”. It was an apt microcosm of the situation, he said, given that the story is one of an innocent man found guilty of a crime he didn’t commit, a story of injustice at the hands of the authorities, and a story of racism, and of censure.

He went on to talk mainly about how the danger of these laws is that they are broad in scope, but narrow in application, so that they can be applied to just about any situation. It would have been illegal, for example, under these laws, for an Australian to fight for the East Timorese against the Indonesians when they were being slaughtered indiscriminantly; the same for the Kurds against Saddam, and any other number of oppressive regimes. What is more, given that we are one of the only Western nations for whom the international declaration of human rights is not enshrined in our constitution, there is no protection from these laws under our constitution either.

Terry Hicks then spoke, and he noted:

* Perhaps the most moving thing he said was the way he introduced himself as a father. Clearly not a polished public speaker, rather a working class father from Adelaide, Terry spoke movingly about how as a father, he could do nothing else than defend and fight for his son until his dying breath, regardless of whether he was guilty or innocent. It reminded me of the way God speaks about us as beloved children, regardless of our guilt.

* How Alexander Downer had repeatedly denied that Terry had attempted to contact him. Terry has tried numerous times, and has never received a reply. “We know that politicians lie,” he said, “I didn’t want to believe it, but they do.” It was in comments like this that his sincerity, and lack of agenda, shone through most clearly.

* How the prisoner abuses were investigated by the same organisations who perpetrated them, the American military, and the government. Talk about a conflict of interest…

* How the American military tribunals were set up purely to find people guilty, not innocent (at the admission of one of David’s own lawyers).

* The rough outline of David’s story: he had almost been in Pakistan when he realised he had left some items, including his passport, in Afghanistan. On a taxi ride back to get them, he was arrested in what the Americans later described as a “war zone” (because apparently taxis drive through war zones all the time?). He was detained and questioned a number of times before being shipped to Guantanamo Bay, where he spent 18 months in solitary confinement, in total darkness.

* His newest lawyer had seen him after his release from solitary and said that his skin was yellow, his back had gone, and his eyes were sunken.

* How it had taken a Four Corners report for Channel 7 to stop using the picture of David holding the rocket launcher, a picture that had been taken in Bosnia many years earlier when he was skylarking with his friends, and therefore had nothing to do with his arrest. The picture had been sent to a “friend” back home who then subsequently sold it to the media, most of whom had stopped using it years ago.

* How David had given up on the Australian government doing anything for him, and had now had to resort to applying for British citizenship to have someone advocate for him.

* How his case was not likely to be heard or even started until April or May next year.

All of this for a man who has not even been found guilty.

Mamdouh Habib then told his story (minus the torture details):

* How he was arrested and detained illegally, including being shipped from country to country against his will and without deportation or extradition orders (literally kidnapping under international law).

* How he was tortured in Egypt and Afghanistan at the behest of the American government (they routinely ‘outsource’ torture to save themselves being found guilty).

* How he was incarcerated without charge in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, for three years.

* How during his torture there at least one soldier told him how glad they were that September 11th had happened, because now their power was absolute and unchecked.

* How since his return to Australia, he was still under round-the-clock surveillance by ASIO and the AFP as a “person of interest”, reminding people that there would be at least one representative of those groups amongst the audience, despite the fact that he had not been charged with anything.

* How, after his Australian home address was leaked to the media, he has been attacked several times including being stabbed. His home has suffered almost nightly break-ins by people who only wish to threaten rather than steal. His family no longer bother to lock their house or car, he said, since it only ends up creating more damage as people break things to gain access. His family (wife and four children) live in constant fear.

* How the Australian government knew all of this, and has not only done nothing about it, but continues to pursue him as suspect, considering him a “person of interest”.

All of this for a man who has been released with no charges brought against him (and who is therefore legally innocent).

He then introduced perhaps the most harrowing part of the night, a video his family made re-enacting the torture he endured over four years of illegal incarceration. His oldest son, who played the part of Mamdouh, spoke movingly at the end of the video about how he wished to honour his father’s experiences by having a record of what happened to him, and by having some idea of what it was like. I won’t go through the details of it – not only is it not appropriate and graphic, but since all recording equipment was terminated at that point, I will respect his wish that the details not be recorded.

So all in all, not what you’d call a fun night, but certainly an eye-opening one. I am under no illusions that what was told was the whole truth, but the verifiability of much of it suggests that enough is true to warrant serious concern as a society about our own government and their complicity with abuse of power, if not outright abuses themselves. Stick that in your sedition-pipe and smoke it. Now if I disappear for a week or two, at least now you’ll know why.

On using the language of having a “cross to bear” as if every situation of suffering is analogous to Jesus’ crucifixion:

“The cross of Christ was not an inexplicable or chance event, which happened to strike him, like illness or accident. To accept the cross as his destiny, to move toward it and even to provoke it, when he could well have done otherwise, was Jesus’ constantly reiterated free choice; and he warns his disciples lest their embarking on the same path be less conscious of its costs (Luke 14:25-33). The cross of Calvary was not a difficult family situation, not a frustration of visions of personal fulfillment, a crushing debt or a nagging in-law; it was the political, legally to be expected result of a moral clash with the powers ruling his society.”

More from The Politics of Jesus:

Yoder is talking about the aspects of Jesus’ life that are not points of imitation for the New Testament church – barefoot itinerancy, celibacy (mentioned, but not as imitation), and rural life – then goes on to say:

“That the concept of imitation is not applied by the New Testament at some of these points where Franciscan and romantic devotion has tried most piously to apply it, is all the more demonstration of how fundamental the thought of participation in the suffering of Christ is when the New Testament church sees it as guiding and explaining her attitude to the powers of the world. Only at one point, only on one subject – but then consistently, universally – is Jesus our example: in his cross.”

Whew! That actually floored me to realise that it’s something we have glossed over or spiritualized so much. No wonder we’re so comfortable, let alone ineffective.

And then this, which I’m still mulling over (again, please excuse the gender exclusivity):

“The believer’s cross must be, like his Lord’s, the price of his social nonconformity.”

How much do I not conform socially (where I should do)? How much does this cost me?

The answer to both is ‘not much’. The question, then, is what that means. Or in Yoda speak: what it means, the question is?

It was great to welcome Felicity to the group this week, and see how well she fit straight in. With Erica piking on us again with her life story (ok, she had a 21st to go to…excuses, excuses!) we decided to spend some time catching up on where everyone was at, especially since it had been a while. Turned out to be one of the best nights of the year, with some courageous honesty, challenging situations, and a lot of laughter.

We started the meal with communion, which kind of set the tone of what we’re about. It’s easy to let it all go unstated and assume everyone’s on the same page, so it’s well worth reiterating every now and then. After dinner we moved onto drawing on paper how we perceived our present situations, then explaining our picture to the group. It’s a good way to overcome self-consciousness (though not so much of one’s artistic skills) and dig somewhat deeper into someone’s situation than just having them explain it in words alone. The culture of openness was continued, and one person in particular really floored us with her courage and honesty. It’s so sacred to be part of a group that shares in this way.

We finished off the night with a couple of games of Mafia, which is always good for a laugh.

Excuse the Arrested Development reference; it seems to sum this up well.

Every now and then I come across a quote that describes what we’re trying to do with inspiral. Here’s one I found last night in John Howard Yoder’s (not to be confused with John Howard, or Yoda, or any combination thereof) The Politics of Jesus.

There are thus about the community of disciples those sociological traits most characteristic of those who set about to change society: a visible structured fellowship, a sober decision guaranteeing that the costs of commitment to the fellowship have been consciously accepted, and a clearly defined life style distinct from that of the crowd. This life style is different, not because of arbitrary rules separating the believer’s behaviour from that of “normal people,” but because of the exceptionally normal quality of humanness to which the community is committed. The distinctness is not a cultic or ritual separation, but rather a nonconformed quality of (“secular”) involvement in the life of the world. It thereby constitutes an unavoidable challenge to the powers that be and the beginning of a new set of social alternatives.

I think what has blown me away about this book is the way he conceives Jesus ministry as concrete and social, in a way I had never imagined before. I always (well, more so recently) knew that Jesus’ ministry was practical and aimed to set up some kind of alternative society on earth that would work towards the Kingdom of God, but I never really imagined that Jesus actually tried to do exactly that, right there and then, with his disciples. That was (at least conceivably) the way he saw his task with them. He wasn’t just training some people to perpetuate this institution we call the church – he was actively setting up amongst the first century Jewish people an alternative society that mirrors what God is like, and as such was a direct challenge and threat to the powers of that day. As such, how far have we (including I) as the church moved from that situation? We pose little or no threat to the powers of our day.

What is more, unlike the Shakers and the Amish, this alternative society was not to be removed from the rest of society, but, as Yoder puts it, “a nonconformed quality of (“secular”) involvement in the life of the world.” That’s what the church should be – that’s what inspiral should be.

My web provider somehow reset my whole web to last weekend, meaning I lost everything since then on the website, the forums and this. So that means I lost my post on the IR rally on Wednesday, which took me about an hour to write. I think I’m gonna cry.

Suffice to say the rally was an amazing experience.

Mark 16:8: “…and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

It is doubtful that any ending to any story has caused so much consternation. Mark’s story of discipleship ends in this most improbable fashion; with a group of women running terrified from the scene, afraid even to speak of what they have witnessed. Leaving the situation entirely unresolved, and the reader hanging as to the outcome, Mark now ends his gospel suddenly, and seemingly tragically. In what follows, I wish to take an in-depth look at Mark’s account of the resurrection of Jesus Christ (Mark 16:1-8), and make some preliminary remarks about its implications for Christian discipleship.

It should be noted at the outset that this ending has seemingly been problematic since early times. While this appears to be the earliest tradition, there are several later passages that have been added in an attempt to round off the story in a somewhat more satisfying way. The majority of scholarship, however, holds to the view that, whether complete or incomplete, this is the earliest ending for the book of Mark, and therefore closest to the author’s intention.

It should also be noted that, since Mark is widely accepted as the earliest gospel to be recorded in written form, this is likely to be the earliest narrative account of the resurrection. We do, of course, have several of Paul’s letters that refer to the resurrection that were written prior to Mark, but Paul is usually less interested in telling the story than examining its implications for the lives of those he was addressing. Mark’s is also the earliest known account of an empty tomb story, something conspicuously absent from Paul’s resurrection discussions.

Mark’s account therefore takes on a greater degree of significance in the light of this, and has occasioned much debate over whether the empty tomb tradition originates with Mark. However, the fact that it involves women as the primary (indeed, the only) witnesses means that it is unlikely to have been a later addition, and more likely that Mark received what was already bedrock tradition.

A more detailed look at the passage:
1. When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him.
Two of these women have already been named in the previous verse, 15:47. That they would be named at all is unusual, since not only were women not considered credible witnesses, but they were usually not considered important enough to name, let alone twice.

Gundry notes that aromatic spices are customary for royalty or other dignified burials, and may have been used to counteract the disgrace of crucifixion. The anointing of a dead body is not intended as a process of mummification, but as a mark of respect to the deceased.

2. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.
The early morning trip would have meant that the spices needed to have been acquired the previous night after sundown, when the sabbath officially ends, as there would have been no opportunity in the morning. The fact that the first day of the week is explicitly mentioned, despite its being redundant given that the Sabbath was the day before, may point to the early consecration of Sunday in Christian communities.

3. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?”
One would wonder why this question was not settled before setting out on the trip, but as Myers suggests, it is likely that the question serves an identificational purpose on behalf of the reader, who is invited to ask the same question.

4. When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.
Given that the qualifying statement about the stone being heavy refers to the question posed in the previous verse, yet is found at the end of verse 4, this would seem to be a clumsy phrasing. This clumsiness, however, is consistent with other parts of Mark (such as 11:13), where the qualifying modifier is placed in a similarly strange position.

5. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed.
The sitting position of the “young man” contrasts sharply with the prone position the women were expecting of a dead body. The nature and identity of the young man is a common question. There are precedences in other contemporary texts for ‘neaniσκον’ being an angel, but it is only used once elsewhere in Mark, to refer to the “young man” who fled naked. However there is no obvious link between the two, and they should not be considered the same person. The emphasis on his sitting on the right side, the place of honour, would indicate that the young man is of divine origin; though it is probably too long a bow to draw to identify him with Jesus, as Gundry suggests. This position, combined with his white dress, probably indicates that this is meant to be an angel. Either way, whether in function only or also in nature, the man is as the bringer of a divine message, and therefore an άνγελος.

6. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him.
The young man clearly knows more than any mortal could know about their situation. That he knows these things lends more credence to his being a divine messenger.

Significantly, the Aorist tense and passive voice of egerthe “He has been raised” is used to refer to the resurrection, implying that it is not something that Jesus accomplished himself, but rather was something done to Jesus. This contrasts with the active voice of α̉νιστημι in 8:31, 9:9,31, 10:34.

There are two main movements in the young man’s statement; “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified” reinforces the reasonableness of the women’s presence there, only to heighten the drama of what comes next; “he has been raised, he is not here.”

“Look, there is the place they laid him.” As previously noted, the women had already seen where the body was laid (15:47): this makes mistaking the place, let alone the tomb itself (as some have argued), unlikely.

7. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”

Peter is here named separately to the disciples, implying he is no longer considered one of them, or at least that he has been singled out for some purpose. Most scholars assume this is as a result of his denial of Jesus. Peter had already separated from the disciples to follow Jesus to the courtyard; so it may simply be an acknowledgement of the separate effort necessary to tell Peter.

Repeatedly throughout Mark, Jesus makes predictions that come to pass (about the colt, Judas’ betrayal, Peter’s denial, his own death). “Just as he told you” is intended to reinforce the credibility of Jesus’ prediction that he would rise again to life, and would be there in Galilee to meet them.

8. So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

There are widely divergent view on how to interpret έkstasis – ranging from terror and fear to astonishment and bewilderment. Hendriksen argues for a positive reading of έkstasis, claiming that it was in fact delighted astonishment and bewilderment that gripped the women. O’Collins concludes that it is not negative fear, but awe and wonderment, and therefore an entirely appropriate and positive reaction to what they had witnessed. However, despite its similarity to the English word ‘ecstasy’, there seem to be little or no positive connotations; in fact, Edwards notes that this word only occurs at one other time in Mark, where it is used to describe Jesus’ state in the garden of Gethsemane (14:33). No matter how understandable this reaction might be, it is a pivotal word because of its placement in the story. As one of the final events, it leaves the reader wondering if the women too have abandoned Jesus. This will be the subject of further discussion later.

Comparison of the gospel accounts:
It is important to avoid the conflation or ‘harmonization’ of the differing accounts in the different gospels. While Matthew and Luke are highly likely to have used Mark as a source for their accounts, they have also adapted and changed them somewhat. These are important differences between the accounts that need to be preserved as significant in themselves, as we will see.

One of the overall impressions of the differences between the accounts is that Mark’s appears much more earthy. This is in keeping with Mark’s fairly rough nature, both in terms of writing style and narrative. Where other gospels explain away or supernaturalise various aspects of the story, Mark’s account retains a groundedness, a distinct lack of embellishment, that is further indication of its originality and priority.

Significantly, Mark contains only the promise of appearance, and does not feature any appearances itself. This is the only gospel this is true of, including the apocryphal gospels. One commentary suggests that the reason for this is that women could not be the first to see a resurrection appearance, but they could be allowed to be the first to see the empty tomb. This is unlikely, however, as Mark does not seem to have problems with women as positive models of discipleship anywhere else, and there are no appearances to men that would reiterate the credibility of the resurrection story.

Matthew’s account uses much of Mark’s, but includes some significant differences. There is far more evidence of divine involvement, as Matthew has an earthquake rolling the stone back, and the “young man” of Mark is more clearly an angelic figure, clothed in dazzling white. Matthew also adds guards to the scene, who run in terror at the earthquake. The Gospel of Peter also adds a number of witnesses who are present at the resurrection.

What Mark seemingly leaves the reader to guess, Matthew has the need to confirm; Jesus himself appears to the women as they leave the empty tomb. Not comfortable with leaving the women simply fearful, Matthew adds that they also felt “great joy”.

Luke’s account includes two angels instead of just one, and again they are clearly heavenly beings. Again, the women are considered untrustworthy, and the men have to verify this “idle tale” for themselves. John also has men verifying the women’s story, but includes Jesus as being present to Mary, though she does not recognise him at first.

Implications for discipleship
We have seen the number of ways in which Mark’s account of the resurrection is unique and in many ways difficult, and come now to a discussion of its implications for discipleship.

Up until this point, we have wonderful role models of discipleship in the women. They have been faithful even when the men deserted; and even though they have not understood or believed Jesus’ predictions of his resurrection, they could hardly be blamed for doing so. Moreover, up to verse 7 we have a positive direction in which to move, even if that direction is only indicative. It is for this reason that when Mark finishes with “..and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid,” it casts this clearly positive direction into doubt and confusion. This small phrase throws positive interpretations into fear and doubt.

Myers suggests that any perceived problems with 16:8 need not be attributed to the author, but to the discomfort of the reader. That is, the reader needs to examine why they have such a negative reaction to the abrupt ending. Insofar as Mark’s gospel is intended to teach discipleship, however, we need to wrestle with this question, particularly as it seems, on reasoned reflection, to be a reasonable question to ask given the intentionality attributed to Mark’s authorship.

There are seemingly three ways to make sense of the women’s fearful silence: one, it is a positive act Mark wants to commend; two, that Mark is simply reporting the events as they took place, making no value judgements; and three, that it is a negative act, intended to indicate discipleship failure.

Perrin, amongst others, takes the latter approach, arguing that, “In Mark, the discipleship failure is total…” But for one to take this thesis, one has to deal with the fact that this is where Mark leaves us; hardly an appropriate place to commend the process of Christian discipleship to its readers. Unless it is intended to throw us on the need for God’s mercy and grace, it is a peculiarly negative view of discipleship. Also, it would have to be agreed that the women’s story has been consistently positive until then, so there needs to be some compelling reason why Mark would suddenly change this view at the very end, with no recourse, and Perrin offers no such reason.

We could also take the second approach, that Mark is simply reporting what happened, and making no value judgements whatsoever. This is difficult to sustain, however, in a document that is otherwise so deliberately imbued with significance.

If we are to take the first approach, however, and see the women’s fearful silence as a positive, we are equally beset with problems. How can fearful silence, seemingly in direct contradiction of a divine order (“go, and tell his disciples and Peter”), be a positive act of discipleship? I see three possible ways that this could be true (none of which are mutually exclusive):

One, the women’s fearful silence is meant to be understood as merely temporary. Had they really remained silent forever, we would not have this story. The obvious problem with this interpretation is, as far as we know, Mark leaves us with only the women’s fearful silence. With nothing else to go on, any further arguments for what we do not know exists are arguments from silence. So either Mark’s story is unfinished accidentally, due to it never being written or the end fragment being lost , or it finished deliberately at this point.

Two, their silence was in and of itself a positive act that is a commendable response under the circumstances. It is difficult to see how this could be the case, particularly in the face of the angelic command to “go, and tell his disciples and Peter”.

Three, the women’s fearful silence could be interpreted as a completely understandable, and therefore excusable, reaction to the circumstances. Anyone who discovers via a divine visitor that their friend is not dead as they suppose, but has been resurrected, would do the same thing. Moreover, perhaps fear is an entirely appropriate reaction to resurrection faith. The implications of resurrection, for those that take them serious are terrifying in many ways.

None of these, however, are able to account sufficiently for the women’s silence. This remains the most difficult part of the passage to explain away, and I have found no plausible explanation or interpretation of it. Perhaps to expect immediate and unquestioning obedience in such an incredible set of circumstances is an unreasonable or naïve expectation.

However, in proclaiming resurrection, and extending the invitation to the women to follow Jesus to Galilee, the young man indicates that whatever their reaction, this is not the end as we suppose. This seems to be the most plausible explanation of Mark’s ending. Ched Myers emphasizes this hopeful and invitational aspect of Mark’s resurrection narrative.

As products of the scientific age, our preoccupation is frequently with the resurrection – the miracle aspect of it, how it happened, and whether it happened at all. And so we struggle with Mark’s account, with its absence of appearance stories, abrupt ending, and only a vague and frightening indication of direction. After all, an empty tomb does not prove anything in and of itself – only that the body is not present.

But this betrays our misunderstanding of Mark’s intention. As Perrin suggests, at least part of the reason for the absence of appearance stories is Mark’s preoccupation is not with miracles or supernatural appearances at all, so much as the nature of discipleship in the light of Jesus’ resurrection. Mark does not try to prove the resurrection at all. Rather, he directs those who would follow Jesus towards Galilee, a place which is symbolic of the outsiders, the marginalised. In doing so, he directs them towards the locus of true discipleship, for it is in this context that disciples will see Jesus. What is more, he signals that the story does not end with death – it continues in hope and in faith, in a circular process. Beginning and ending with an invitation, the reader is invited to return to Galilee to go once again on the difficult, but worthwhile path of discipleship.

Mark’s ending has no easy answers. It will continue to plague and frustrate those who would seek to base Christian discipleship on its advice and interpretation. But for those of us who wrestle with it as a basis for Christian discipleship, it extends an invitation away from an empty tomb, towards the margins of society. The question remains; what will my reaction be?

Bibliography

Edwards, James R., The Pillar New Testament Commentary: The Gospel According to Mark, Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 2002.

Evans, Craig A., Word Biblical Commentary Vol. 34, Mark 8:27-16:20, Thomas Nelson: Nashville, 2001.

Gundry, Robert H., Mark: A Commentary on his Apology for the Cross, Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 1993.

Hendriksen, William, New Testament Commentary: Mark, Banner of Truth: Edinburgh 1981.

Myers, Ched, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus, Orbis: New York, 1988.

O’Collins, Gerald, Interpreting the Resurrection: Examining the Major Problems in the Stories of Jesus’ Resurrection, Paulist: New York, 1988.

Perrin, Norman, The Resurrection Narratives: A New Approach, SCM: London, 1977.

Williamson, Lamar Jr., Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching: Mark, John Knox: Atlanta, 1983.

In researching my final essay, I came across this description of why we need spirituality. The author notes four types of struggle that life is characterized by, that bring the need for transcendence to our attention:

1. We struggle with our fellow human beings. Life is a brutal competition for scarce resources – for a mother’s affection, for an A in class, for admission to college, for a promotion and a raise, for that next sale. Life is a rat race, a jungle, a zoo. This makes us competitive, jealous, even violent.
2. We struggle with the fact that life is radically unfair. Some people are rich. Others, through no fault of their own, die of starvation. Some live to be a hundred. Others, through no fault of their own, die painfully at seventeen. Some are born with wit, intelligence and good looks. Others, through no fault of their own, are born plain or disfigured and with only modest gifts.
3. We struggle with guilt. Constantly we find ourselves unable to live up even to our own minimal standards of right and wrong, let alone our highest ideals, and so if we are at all attuned to the accusations of conscience, we are tortured by feelings of inadequacy and guilt.
4. Finally, we struggle with our own mortality. We know that one day we will die, and that fact makes us shiver. We long for immortality, to know life and breath and sunshine and loved ones forever, but death will cut us short.

–Steven Davis, “Making Sense of the Resurrection”

These to me summarize bluntly everyone’s need for God, and more particularly, for redemption in some sense. They touch at the heart of each one of us; regardless of our life circumstances, we all encounter these struggles at some point. We can, and often do, say that we can do it on our own, that we have no need of anything higher than us, but these points, and life itself, proves us wrong every time.

I watched a show last night about a conservative Christian who was given the task of spending 30 days with a homosexual in the gay district of San Francisco, and as a result was confronted by his prejudices and misconceptions, particularly in regards to his religious stance. I was reminded of something I read earlier in the year about Jesus; that he seemed to ask questions more than he gave answers. Particularly to those who approached him with questions (often loaded ones with a clear agenda), he tended to answer with a question.

“Who do you say I am?”
“What do the scriptures say?”
“Why were you searching for me? Did you not know I must be in my Father’s house?”
“Which of these was a neighbour to the man?”
“Why are you afraid, you of little faith?”
“Can the wedding guests mourn while the bridegroom is with them?”
“Do you believe that I am able to do this?”
“Have you not read the scriptures?”
“Why do you ask for a sign?”
“Have you understood all this?
“Why did you doubt?”
“How many loaves do you have?”
“Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?”
“Why do you raise such questions in your hearts?”

And these are but a few.

I like clear-cut answers as much as the next person, but I think it’s at least worth recognizing that Jesus rarely just doled out clear-cut answers; he almost without exception challenged the person to work it out for themselves. Every time we think we have things nailed down or certain, we should confront ourselves with the subversive Jesus who constantly questioned.