Aug 3 2019 Mark 16: 1-8 Commemoration of Mary, Joanna an Solome, the myrrh-bearing women

And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.
Jesus has died and is buried. He’s in his tomb. In the Gospels, a group of women are listed as bringing myrrh to Jesus’ body, although which women differs in the differing versions. Today, the church commemorates the collective bunch of them. Myrrh is the resin of a tree, used in ancient Chinese medicine, Ayurvedic medicine, and was used as to embalm and anoint the dead.

Maybe the women had this role because they were relegated to it, prohibited from a more visible role during Jesus’ life. Maybe they’re stuck with the body after death, because it’s the most they could do.



There are plenty of reasons why women could get testy about the way women are portrayed in Scripture. It was a male-dominated world. And while that’s true, I’d rather look at the grace and wonder of what these women got to do, rather than grouse at what they had to do.

In a moment when no one else would know, these women intended to care for the body of the dead. Maybe it’s thankless work, unknown by most. But it’s holy work, I believe. In advance of my father-in-law’s death, the family talked about it. My oldest daughter works in a care facility, and has taken care of the bodies of dozens of recently deceased residents. She had meaningful, caring questions and comments, borne from a place of intimacy with death. For all of the loved ones she’d cared for, in the absence of their own families, I cried. Those people she’d worked with were just dead bodies to many. To their loved ones, they were much more. My daughter tended those children of God at a very tender moment. No one may ever know what she does. The deceased don’t. Their loved ones might not. But God does.

Mary, Joana and Solome brought myrrh to Jesus’ body to honor and care for the dead. That is invisible, holy work.

This morning, I’m thinking about people who care for the dead. All of the underpaid, underappreciated aides in hospitals and nursing homes who bring myrrh to the bodies. They do holy work, for the dead, for their loved ones, and for all of us.

I’m also thinking about all the work we do in modern life that is unnoticed and underappreciated. Where I feel relegated to small jobs. It is all holy work, and I can either see it as holy, or spend my time being ticked off at my role. Today, I’m going to choose holy.