Rethinking Resurrection

Though the details vary from gospel to gospel, it is clear that women were the first witnesses to the resurrection. The courage of the women who went to Jesus’ grave early on Easter morning cannot be overestimated.  Jesus’ grave was guarded; even in his death he was a threat to the political and religious systems of his day.    

The women who went to the grave were on their final errand of love. It is often in such heart break that resurrection begins. In going to the grave they bore witness to Jesus’ teaching that love is stronger than death and perfect love casts out fear. And perfect love is not love without error; it is love that trusts its source. 

There are few details given in any of the gospel accounts.  We are given just enough to discern a truth, even though it is not necessarily related to the accounts as presented.

It is a consequence of modernity that we think in linear terms. The dawn of movies and other recording equipment has changed how we understand reality.  The resurrection stories are not intended to be a movie script.  The truth of the story goes beyond the words recorded.   

The empty tomb is not the point.  The point is that somewhere along the line his followers recognized him in the faces of those he loved when he walked this earth.  They recognized him in each other’s eyes when they spoke the words he gave them and when they remembered that following Jesus on the way was the only thing that mattered.

John Shelby Spong, retired Episcopal Bishop of the Diocese of New Jersey, suggests in his book, The Easter Moment,  that it was the scared and sacred sharing that transformed this group of confused women and men into a mighty witness to an even mightier truth. They recognized Christ in their midst and were strengthened by sharing a meal in Jesus’ name. 

And IN TIME they found their voices and their courage and carried on.  The truth of the resurrection became real when God’s loving power was felt in their hearts and in their gathering. Whether or not the tomb was empty is beside the point.

They heard the words and followed the simple directions from the angel, but it didn’t become real until they had some time to sit with it. We hear the words and understand them, but Easter does not become real until our own lives are transformed by it. 

Easter is a moment that changes all other moments. We don’t think too much about eternal life until someone we love dies.  We don’t think much about the promise of God’s sustaining love until we are ill and think we might die.   We may not think much about hope until it eludes us; we may not think much about joy until it returns to us on the heels of despair. 

The promise becomes real in the stuff of our own lives.  And it happens again and again as the stuff changes. 

Albert Schweitzer wrote, “To those who would follow the risen Christ, whether wise or simple, he will reveal himself in the conflicts and the sufferings which they shall pass through in his fellowship.  And as an ineffable mystery they shall learn in their own experience who he is.” 

But Easter is never just about us. It’s also about the passions at work in Jesus’ earthly life, like his love for the ones no one else paid any attention to. Easter is about his willingness to speak truth to power and lay bare the corruption that masqueraded as faithfulness.  Jesus was all about an upside down kingdom where the last were first and the first were last.

Resurrection is at once deeply personal and totally communal. The Easter holiday is not the anniversary of an event, it is the reminder of new life born of discipleship and community.

The resurrection stories are a mix and mess of mystery and human bewilderment, and we do well to remember it is not the empty tomb that made believers of them.  It was their fellowship with one another, their shared doubt and faith, their growing awareness of his presence as they lived the life he showed them.

And so for us, Christ is present in our fragmented lives, calling us to wholeness. Christ is present in our sadness and grief, unfolding a way to healing. Christ is present in the midst of all that comes to an end, with a promise of presence and unfailing love. Christ is present in the struggle for peace, going on ahead of us to show the way. Christ is present in the yearning for justice, calling us to repentance and lives made new. Christ is present in our fear of death, calling us to the hope of eternal life in Jesus Christ. Christ is present in our fear of life, saying follow me.