1 Corinthians 15-16: What Is the Resurrection? #30daysofPaul

I have a difficult relationship with the Resurrection.

I know that's a strange statement to make, considering centrality of the Resurrection of Christ to the Christian faith. Ask any Christian you know, and they likely will tell you that the bodily resurrection of Christ is a non-negotiable tenant of the faith.

Let me be straight with you: I don't believe in a bodily resurrection. I don't believe Jesus rose physically from the grave on the third day after he died. In fact, I don't even think he was buried in a tomb. I certainly don't think his physical body appeared to Mary, or Peter, or the disciples, or the travelers on the road to Emmaus, or Paul.

I know this probably brands me as a heretic, or some such other outcast from the Christian faith. Just consider tonight's passage from Paul: 1 Corinthians 15 is exclusively focused on the Resurrection, it's centrality to the Christian faith, and the common bond it engenders among all believers. Paul uses the Resurrection to hammer home his point of Christian unity in this letter, saying: "If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile."

So that basically seems to seal the deal, right? Maybe I should be reconsidering my religious affiliation here.

But let me restate what I believe: I don't believe in the bodily resurrection of Christ.

But is there a resurrection outside of the bodily type that exemplifies what the early church described when it spoke of a "Living Christ" and "Resurrected Lord?"

Not long after I began my ordination process with the UMC in Kansas, I met with my pastor at the time to discuss some of my questions and concerns in the process. I asked my pastor (a progressive leader of a Reconciling Ministries congregation) about my unorthodox theological beliefs, including this very subject. I told him I was concerned about taking the ordination vows of Methodist church, considering I didn't necessarily believe the same thing as the church on Resurrection, among other things. I didn't want to have to take vows while crossing my fingers. I want to be true to myself, my church, my faith and my future congregations.

My pastor told me something that has stuck with me ever since: "Everybody believes in the Resurrection; but that Resurrection takes different forms for different people."

This seemingly obvious idea has stuck with me, and has allowed me to evolve theologically in an open and free way. It's allowed me to get to the place I am on the Resurrection, which is being open and honest about my disbelief, and on the flip side, about what I in fact do believe.

So, if not a bodily resurrection, then what?

The movement Christ led seems extraordinary to us, two thousand years after the fact, considering it led to the formation of the largest, most influential religion in world history. But in first century Palestine, Messianic movements centered around a charismatic personality were fairly common and anodyne.

Yet, the Christian movement persisted, unlike to many other. Why is this? What made the Christian movement more special than any other?

Many Christians would, I think, answer that the answer is obvious: because the God-given message of Jesus is irresistible and divinely ordained. In this view, the spread of Christianity was inevitable. But I don't think so. Yes, Jesus' message was counter cultural, revolutionary and world changing in a way none of the others was. But after his death, something had to have perpetuated this message. Something carried that message for forty years, until it was written down by the author or Mark, beginning the synoptic traditions and the worldwide spread of written Christianity.

I contend that the thing that caused the Christian cause to live on, to not die out following the devastating and especially cruel death of it's progenitor was a single person: Peter. I believe we Protestants overlook the outsize influence and role of Peter in the perpetuation of our faith.

Now, I know this is a series on Paul and the importance of writings, but let's show some love to Peter. I've come to this appreciation of Peter very recently. Bishop John Shelby Spong's book "Resurrection" helped me get there, and since finishing it recently, I've been giving a lot of thought to the Rock of the church.

Following Jesus' death, it would have been very easy for the Christian movement to fold up, to disappear in a cloud of despair and grief. And maybe it did for a while. Maybe after the death of Jesus, the disciples scattered for a time, and things quieted down, and it seemed that the movement was good and dead.

But I think at some point soon after Jesus' death, after the shock of his death have begun to fade, Peter decided to pick up the pieces, to carry on the life-changing message of Jesus. Through his force of personality and will, Peter reassembled those who followed Jesus, began the theological development of Christianity, and built a church community based in Jerusalem.

And at that point, Christianity distinguished itself from all the other Messianic movements, and took on the narrative of Resurrection. Jesus' resurrection took the form of the continuance of the movement he started. Jesus' resurrection was, and is, the success and life of the Church initiated in his name. Jesus' resurrection is the message he preached being taught in all the world, and embraced by billions over the last two thousand years.

And who led this early movement? Peter. I think Peter almost singe-handedly willed the Christian movement into existence. I think Peter embodied the Resurrection of Jesus. I think Peter, by being the foundation of our faith, deserves to be recognized for the out sized influence he had on the Christian faith.

I don't really know what this means for the message Paul is recounting here. Twenty years after the death of Jesus, the story of Resurrection has already become central to the Christian community spreading across the Mediterranean world. It's easy to read this chapter in light of either of these views of Resurrection-the bodily variety, or the living church variety- and feel it validates your particular view. And that is probably why Resurrection has gone from an understanding of the extraordinary nature of the Jesus movement's continuance, to meaning the literal, physical bodily Resurrection of Jesus.

I could write a book about the subject of Resurrection, and another one about what I think of Peter. Maybe I will one day. But for tonight, here is my takeaway from 1 Corinthians 15: the idea of Resurrection, of rebirth, of a return to life after the seeming inevitability of death, is indeed central to Christianity, no matter what form that Resurrection takes for different people. My pastor was right: everybody has their own view of Resurrection. And really, that's perfectly fine. It's the idea of rebirth that's important in the end, not the literal truth of any one story.

Let's embody that Resurrection by carrying forward a message of peace, of love, of forgiveness, of God's authentic justice and desire for liberation of all people, as taught and lived by Jesus before his terrible death. Let's not let the Good News be buried, but be reborn everyday in our actions, in our lives as Christians. Amen.

Next: 2 Corinthians 2:14-3:18

For a PDF of the 30 Days of Paul reading plan, click here.

For more info on 30 Days of Paul, click here for my intro, or here for Cassandra Farrin's explanation.

Click Here for Cassandra Farrin's take on today's reading.

Reflection on Holy Week: The Descent into Madness, and the Devastation of Absence

I'm enjoying Holy Week more this year.

This isn't to say that I didn't enjoy it in the past. But I'm understanding it better now, as I grow in my knowledge and my faith. I've been able to focus on the progression of the week, the meaning of the days and the season as a whole. I've been able to just be present in this week.

Last year, I spent all of Lent and Holy Week terribly conflicted about what it all means.

This turmoil came out of my own personal Christology, for lack of a better term. As someone who views Jesus first and foremost as human, who doesn't put much stock in miracles and virgin births and physical resurrections, I was rightfully having a hard time deciding just what was so important about Easter. My big epiphany for last year was while having lunch with my pastor at the time, who told me that all Christians believe in the Resurrection of Christ, but we all may have a different idea of just what form that resurrection took.

This year, I feel more at peace about Easter and Holy Week. I'm excited about it, I'm enjoying the many, many church services, and I am spending a lot of time thinking about what it all means without worrying about it. I've been focusing on two main themes.

First, the dichotomy of Palm Sunday and Good Friday has really struck me this year. In the span of five short days, the Passover crowds of Jerusalem go from hailing Jesus as a king entering his kingdom, to condemning him to death in the most painful and humiliating way. To think about Jesus on the cross, saying "Forgive them, they know not what they do," is really powerful to me.

The whole thing just seems to be a big commentary on our own misunderstanding of what he meant, and of how quickly we can turn on something that seems great at first but ultimately disappoints. It's a striking reflection of our own flightiness and tendency to follow the crowd. We are all complicit in that rapid change. A whirlwind turn of events begins, and we get so wrapped up that the next thing we know, Jesus is on the cross and we are standing there not even realizing just exactly what happened.

Part of my reflection on this theme has been focused on the Cleansing of the Temple. That  really had to be the breaking point for most people. It was such a jarring act, one with such significance and passions surrounding it. That must have been the point when those whispers from the Pharisees began to sink in, and the ball started rolling down hill, and everyone slipped into a blood lust they didn't wake up from until a week or so later.

Except they probably didn't wake up from it. They probably just went about their lives, and one day in the future remembered back to that crazy rabbi who threw the moneychangers out of the Temple and caused such an uproar. What ever happened to that guy?

Second, I've thought about the devastating absence the disciples must have felt after Jesus' death. Here is a man they have dedicated their lives to for more than three years. He was wise, caring, loving, a force of character more powerful than anyone they had probably ever met. No doubt he had a mythical presence in their minds, a larger-than-life aspect of their lives as changeless as the seasons. Despite his assurances of his impending death, they clearly didn't believe him, assuming he would always be there, and leading the way to great and wonderful things.

And then they wake up Saturday morning, and...he's dead. His dead body seems a lot smaller than proportions it seemed to have taken on in his life. His words and teachings already seems like a distant echo.

And life goes on, and things are the same as before, and no one really seems to care except the  11 of them, the Women, and a few others.

And most of all, their teacher, their leader, their brother, their friend-their good, dear, loving, close friend- is dead. How devastating must that have felt that morning? What did the last three years even mean if here they are, alone?

Again, as someone who doesn't believe in a bodily resurrection, this is where the questions deepen. Because it's not just Saturday morning that they wake up in despair. It's the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and so many more other days that they were supposed to be doing amazing things. Life must have seen empty in the days and weeks after the crucifixion, as these men and women tried to figure out how to go on  and what to do with their lives now.

And so the big question becomes, what does Easter really mean now? If it's not about Jesus rising bodily from the tomb on that Sunday, what is it all about? That's what I've really been pondering for a couple years now. And this year, I'm starting to get some glimpses of just what it may mean.

When I think about those lost and devastated disciples, I start to understand what Easter means. Because they didn't give up, go into hiding, or return to their old lives. They built something new. They took up the mantle Jesus relinquished in his death, and began the process of changing people's lives and spreading the message they had internalized.

That's what Easter is about: the inability of death and darkness to prevail, even in the most depressing of times and situations. It's a reminder to us to keep pushing forward, that Jesus' life mattered for something and so does ours, and we have responsibility to engage in something greater than ourselves. That's Easter. That's Holy Week.

The questions keep coming, the pondering doesn't end, but the meaning is there.

Jesus' Resurrection wasn't unique, but it was exceptional: An excerpt from "Excavating Jesus"

I want to share the following excerpt from the book I just finished, Excavating Jesus by John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan Reed. This is pulled from a larger discussion of the historical meaning of the Resurrection, and really highlights the shallow nature of much of today's Christianity.

(Note: all Italicized portions below are preserved from the original. Bolded lines are my own emphasis.)

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It is sometimes claimed in contemporary Christian thought that only the stupendous miracles of empty tomb and risen apparition(s) can explain historically, first, how the companions of Jesus recovered their faith in him lost at the crucifixion, and, second, how others came to faith in him despite his crucifixion. There are two problems, one minor and one major, with that oversimplified understanding.

First, it was the male and not the female companions of Jesus who fled, since they were much more likely to be arrested along with Jesus. But to lose your nerve is not to lose your faith. Even Mark's story of Peter's triple denial so formulates it that he loses not his faith but, as it were, his memory. It might have been braver to stay and confess, but it was cowardice and not disbelief to deny and run.

Second, we are retrojecting our own post-Enlightenment rationalism into a pre-Enlightenment world. Imagine a contemporary debate along these lines. Nonbeliever: "All those stories about virginal conceptions, divine births, miraculous events, wondrous deeds, risen apparitions, and heavenly ascensions never did and never could have happened. They are myth at best and lie at worst." Believer: It is true that such events do not happen regularly, but they all happened to our Jesus once and for all, long ago." In that post-Enlightenment contradiction, impossibility battles with uniqueness.

Both those positions, however, are equally irrelevant for a pre-Enlightenment world, equally unusable in such a cultural milieu. In a world where anything from divine birth to divine ascension was a possible part of the transcendental landscape, impossibility was not an available argument for polemical attackers, but neither was uniqueness an available argument for apologetical defenders. In the free market of religious ideas that was the Greco-Roman world, one had to enter the spiritual free-trade area and argue for one's God or one's Son of God without using either of those post-Enlightenment moves.

For example, in the middle of the second century Justin is arguing for Jesus in his First Apology directed toward pagan readers. He never suggests uniqueness. "When we say also that the Word," he begins, "who is the first-birth of God, was produced without sexual union, an that He, Jesus Christ, our Teacher, was crucified and died, and rose again, and ascended into heaven, we propound nothing different from what you believe regarding those whom you esteem sons of Jupiter." He then lists many examples and concludes by referring to divine emperors and especially Julius Caesar. "What of the emperors who die among yourselves, whom you deem worthy of deification, and in whose behalf you produce someone who swears he has seen the burning Caesar rise to heaven from the funeral pyre?" Finally, however, Justin is certainly not ready to say that all such claims are equal. But notice that his criterion of discrimination is not uniqueness in event, but superiority in action. "As we promised in the preceding part of this discourse, we will now prove Him superior-or rather have proved Him to be so-for the superior is revealed by His actions" (21-22). That is an utterly appropriate pre-Enlightenment argument. Of course there have been many sons of God around, but Jesus is best of all because of certain specific arguments.

Similarly, about a quarter of a century later, when a pagan polemicist named Celsus is attacking Christianity, he uses exactly the same pre-Enlighenment type of argument. He never mentions impossibility, but counters, that Jesus has never done anything for anyone. The argument for superiority is met by one for inferiority. "After all, the old myths of the Greeks that attribute a divine birth to Perseus, Amphion, Aeacus and Minos are equally good evidence of their wondrous works on behalf of mankind-and are certainly no less lacking in plausibility that the stories of your followers. What have you done (Jesus) by word or deed that is quite so wonderful as those heroes of old?" (On the True Doctrine). Both pro-Christian apologist and anti-Christian polemicist use the same argument, but in opposite directions. Impossibility and uniqueness are not imaginable as absolute claims (maybe, of course, as hyperbolic overclaims), but superiority in action is where the debate occurs. Justin: "Jesus has done more than all those others like him." Celsus: "Jesus has done less than all those others like him."

Paul and his audience lived in a first-century pre-Enlightenment world. That precluded those two arguments of uniqueness versus impossibility that present-day believers and nonbelievers use against one another. To assert empty tomb and/or risen apparition(s) is not enough to explain anything, let alone everything in that ancient world. But that full content of Jesus' resurrection just outlined above would make for debate in that world. It was the content and implications of your miracle that mattered there. "Wow" was not enough, because there were too many "wows" around. Ancients might declare Jesus' resurrection unbelievable, but never impossible. What that audience would say to Paul is not an impolite "We do not believe you," but a polite "How nice for Jesus, but why exactly should we care about that?" Or, more bluntly, "What's in it for us?" And that is exactly when Paul would have explained willingly and in great detail, for example, the sociocosmic and religio-political difference between Julius Caesar's ascension and Jesus Christ's resurrection, and how it was time to choose one or the other.

Recall the discussion of Jewish and Christian-Jewish "resurrection" above. Those who claimed Jesus had begun the terminal movement of apocalyptic climax would have to present some public evidence of a world transformed from injustice and evil to justice and peace. It would not and could not suffice to claim one or many empty tombs and one or many risen apparitions. That might be all well and good, but where was the evidence, any evidence, of a transformed world? For that they had only their own communal lives as evidence. This is how we live with God and on this basis we seek to persuade others to do likewise. This is our new creation, our transformed world. We in God, God in us, and both together here below upon this earth. 

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What Crossan and Reed are saying here is so foundational to understanding the differences between the Christianity of those who lived with and experienced Jesus, and the way so many people do it today. Going on and on about a Virgin Birth, healing miracles, a bodily resurrection, is all well and good, but it isn't sufficient to compel new followers of Christ. The "wow" factor is not enough to win souls. 

Those things are but a marker of the special nature of Christ, but the thing that really brings people on board is unique way of life His followers exhibit. Whether we want to hear it or not, the draw of Christianity is not a self-apparent thing triggered by seeing a crucifix; instead, Christianity becomes a draw through us, the church, and actions we engage in, towards ourselves, towards others, and towards all Creation. We have to stand for more than the supernatural occurrences of two millenia ago; we have to follow his example and bring the Kingdom on Earth, today, now.