It’s a memory that’s stayed with me. I was perhaps 20 years old. A priest stood in front of the class lecturing. I remember him as being old. He was probably about the age I am now. While I had already taken a couple of courses on the Bible before this one, it was this course that made a particular impression. The focus of this course was the New Testament gospels.
I listened as the professor explained that stories of people rising from the dead were not uncommon in ancient cultures. It was a way of conveying to those who heard the story that the person was unique and chosen by God. That went along with stories about a miraculous birth, like stars appearing and a young virgin impregnated by a deity who gave birth. These were all common elements to stories of heroes in ancient cultures.
While I don’t know this for sure, I imagine that I sat in that lecture hall spellbound with my jaw dropping so low it touched the desk. The only story I knew of someone rising from the dead was of Jesus. Hearing the professor explain elements of the gospel narratives and their correlates with other ancient literature was surprising and somewhat overwhelming.
I don’t think the professor had intended to question the principles of faith that we all shared. He was a priest teaching in a Catholic university. I believe that he intended to provoke us to think deeper about the gospels, how they were written, and why there are instances of agreement as well as contradictions among the gospel narratives. The discussions in this course led me to ask whether the resurrection of Jesus matters to my faith – and how it matters.
The resurrection of Jesus is the heart of Christian identity. It was critically important to his early followers. That’s why each of the four gospels that are part of the Biblical text goes into significant detail conveying the finals days of his life, his execution, and his resurrection. The gospel writers understood that they needed to fully explain what occurred for people to grasp the significance of the events that transpired.
In the larger scheme of religious idioms, I think the belief in the resurrection of Jesus is a response to our primordial fear of death. None of us wants to die. At best, we hope that we will gently pass from this life. It is natural for us to want to live on in some way. Some people hope to live on through their descendants. Others hope to live on by way of a legacy from their work. Many create memorials to their lives by charitable giving. Perhaps most common are the markers and monuments erected at our gravesites attesting to our lives.
Belief in an afterlife wasn’t common among Jews in first century Palestine when Jesus was alive. The Pharisees, who attempted to make the practice of Judaism more accessible to average people, held to a belief in an afterlife, but it was largely undefined. It surely wasn’t anything like today’s Christian understanding of heaven. Because Jesus shared in some aspects of the traditions established by the Pharisees, like synagogues for prayer and study of sacred texts, he may have believed that the souls of the just rested in the underworld.
The belief in the resurrection of Jesus opened the door for his early followers to consider that if Jesus rose from the dead and continues to live, then they too could also continue to live. We find this belief emerging in the second letter of Timothy, written between 100 and 140 CE: “If we have died with Christ, we will also live with him.”
Over time, this belief in our being able to share in the resurrected life of Christ grew. In the second and third centuries, baptismal liturgies linked immersion in water with the death of Jesus and coming out of the water with the resurrection of Jesus. The motifs of death and life continued to evolve until Christian theology affirmed that by his death, Jesus conquered death and that the resurrection was a sign of victory.
How we understand religious teachings evolves over our lifespan. A few decades ago, James Fowler described the evolution of the stages of faith. It’s a model still used commonly today in religious studies. Essentially, Fowler described a multi-stage progression of faith development from beliefs in literal truth to integrating complex concepts and metaphors as a source of inspiration for faith.
As I look back over my life, I recognize that my early adult years were characterized by a more literal interpretation of faith. Clear evidence of that was found on my business card and letterhead from the 1980s. They carried a logo with the caption: “Christus Nika,” that is “Christ Conquers.” The phrase used in the early church and still common among Eastern Orthodox Christians express the understanding that by Christ’s death, death is conquered. What’s interesting for me to consider today is that expression was very important to me during the years I served as a hospital chaplain and was assigned to a pediatric unit where I frequently was present with families with seriously ill and dying children. That experience overlapped with the AIDS-crisis of the 1980s when I knew hundreds of people who died because of complications from AIDS. Looking back on those years, I understand that with death being part of my day-to-day life, holding fast to the words, “Christ conquers,” had great significance.
I see this same kind of expression today, particularly on social media. My social media accounts connect me with people throughout the world. I often see postings from people who seem to be having a difficult time in life. They talk about experiencing “victory in Jesus” and having certain knowledge that God has promised their circumstances will change. While it can be easy to disregard such statements as being overly zealous or simplistic piety, I tend to think that they represent how people are experiencing faith as a source of hope and liberation.
Today, my life and faith are much more subtle than they were forty years ago. I am content with a quiet life, teaching, writing, and maintaining a small social circle. My day is punctuated by prayer and spiritual practice. My understanding of life and death is also much more subtle.
As I write this, the cherry tree outside my window is in the full bloom of spring. But the blossoms are beginning to fade. A gust of wind filled the air with the small flowers and now the lawn has a dusting of petals. Today, I am much more aware of life and death as cycles, as part of the design of life. As the cherry tree blossoms anew each spring, I trust and believe that life is not limited by death. Instead, there is a mystery in the cycle of life, death, and new life. Do I have evidence of that? No, not in any meaningful way.
I have known many people who passed from this life. There are ways in which they remain alive with me. Some of these people visit with me in my dreams. Their presence continues to shape my life, and for that I am grateful. While their presence in my life has changed, they remain very much a part of my experience.
Do I believe in the resurrection of Jesus? Yes, I do. But not in the way I once did. I no longer need anyone to conquer death. While I’d much rather live as long as I can, I recognize that death is as natural as falling asleep each night.
What do I believe about the resurrection of Jesus? I can’t easily explain that. But I know for certain that the life and teachings of Jesus remain alive and vibrant for me. The vision he shared of a community of people sharing the life and love of God fills me with hope. In that way, I know that Jesus lives on in me and in others.
At this time of my life, I can’t make sense of a victorious God who conquers anything, much less death. Death is part of the fabric of life. But I recognize that the mystery of life and death forms one of the many dimensions of the Divine. For now, I find my place of rest with the Holy One who is with us. Yes, Emmanuel. And because Emmanuel lives, on Easter I will find joy once again that Christ is risen!
Image credit Joey-Kyber on Wunderstock
To learn more about the gospel writers and the parallel images from other sources about the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus, see the book, “How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee,” by Bart D. Ehrman, HarperOne Publishing, 2014.
