Even in Hollywood, Easter's approach rekindles hope. A hope for profit, that is, since films about Jesus seem to make their debut in late February. The Passion of Christ, for instance, was released in theaters on the 25th in 2004, the Son of God on the 28th in 2014, and Risen on the 19th of this year. As the self-chosen sacrifices of Lent grind on and the light of springtime brightens, Hollywood marketers bank that Christian movie-goers will itch and pine to see Jesus on the big screen.

The relationship between Easter and dramatic narrative runs much deeper. In the gospel of Mark, which is the earliest extant gospel, the story of the empty tomb in chapter 16 verses 1-8 (16:1-8) recalls the deus ex machina scenes that occur at the end of ancient Greek tragedies (most frequently in plays by Euripides). In these tragedies, a god or demigod swings into view and, while hovering over the stage suspended from a stage-crane, he or she commands mortals to embrace the fate that awaits them. The deus ex machina (meaning "god from the machine") also calms the mortals frightened by the sudden epiphany of his or her unexpected appearance, predicts the future, and issues commands with which the mortals comply, although in some cases, only grudgingly.

This is exactly what happens in the gospel of Mark 16:1-8. An otherworldly youth dressed in white appears in the tomb to the women who stand in awe of this epiphany (16:5). He calms them with the message of Jesus’ resurrection, "It is Jesus you seek, the Nazarene, the crucified one. He was raised. He is not here" (16:6; all translations are by the author). Like a deus ex machina the otherworldly youth commands the women, "Go! Tell the disciples" that Jesus will meet them in Galilee (16:7). The women obey the first command, for they flee the tomb, but they fail to comply with the command to tell the disciples. The gospel of Mark thus ends at 16:8, seemingly coming to a close in failure and distress: "trembling and distraction seized them, and they told no one nothing, for they were afraid" (16:8).

Despite the efforts of later scribes to tame this radical Easter story by appending verses 16:9-20 which describe Jesus' visits to the disciples (likely added in the second century), it is all but certain that the gospel of Mark originally ended at 16:8.

After all, the machina scenes in the Greek tragic dramas function as a signal to spectators that the drama has reached its finale. In some cases, the gods' commands to depart, to go, to sail, or to exit serve as a means to clear the stage and thus unequivocally indicate the conclusion of the play. The machina in this regard is analogous to the curtain of our modern stages. 

Likewise in the gospel of Mark. The deus ex machina—in this case the heavenly figure—commands the women, "Go!" and the women "exited" and "fled from the tomb" (16:8). If one envisions this part of the story as though it is unfolding on a stage, as the affinities with the ex machina scenes of ancient Greek tragedies encourage, then the women's departure at this point serves as a device of closure.
         
This similarity lends credibility to the claim that the gospel of Mark ends and has always ended at 16:8. Using the deus ex machina as a plot device, Mark brings closure to the story and leaves us with a very definite sense of what he is trying to tell us. In spite of the famous last words, "for they were afraid," Mark's gospel does not end with the fright of the non-compliant women in flight. They are gone, and there alone remains in the mind's eye or on the "narrative-stage" the image of a tomb, empty except for an awe-inspiring otherworldly figure. 

The oldest account of Easter, therefore, concludes with the absent Son of God ("He is not here"; 16:6), who is restored to life and soon-to-be present with followers in Galilee. This final vision is truly in keeping with the heavenly consolations that appear throughout the gospel of Mark. At the end, precisely where the otherworldly youth announces the resurrection, these consolations go hand-in-hand with divine absence, uncertainty, shuddering, and frightful emotion. The analogy to tragedy thus remains fully intact. The drama of Easter is not a make-believe invention of Hollywood marketers; it has deep roots, and even deeper disclosures, in this most ancient of gospels and its narrative devices.
 
Resources:
 
Aland, Kurt. "Bemerkungen zum Schluss des Markusevangeliums." In Neotestamentica et Semitica: Studies in Honour of Matthew Black. Edited by E. Earle Ellis and Max Wilcox. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1969.

Sourvinou-Inwood, Christiane. Tragedy and Athenian Religion. New York: Lexington Books, 2003.

Tracy, David, "On Tragic Wisdom." In Wrestling with God and with Evil: Philosophical Reflections. Edited by Hendrick M. Vroom. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007.

Image Credit: Amanda Carden / Shutterstock.com creative commons.

Author, Jeff Jay, is Instructor of New Testament and Early Christian Literature at the University of Chicago Divinity School and the author of The Tragic in Mark: A Literary-Historical Interpretation (Mohr Siebeck, 2014).
 

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