Resurrection trumps recycling: What has Easter to do with Earth Day?

Stephen Turley explains why the secular message of "Earth Day" pales in comparison to the cosmic significance of Christ's resurrection.

“What’s wrong with Earth Day?” my student asks incredulously from the back of the classroom. “What issue could you possibly have with being good stewards of our environment?” “There’s simply no point to it,” I respond. “We have Easter.” My student furls her brow; “What on earth does Easter have to do with saving the environment?”

Around the twenty-second of every April, I must admit that I do feel a certain affinity with Ebenezer Scrooge as he was interrogated by his nephew, Fred. “Christmas a humbug, uncle! You don’t mean that, I am sure.” And while I certainly demur from his assessment of Christmas, I am in agreement with old Scrooge that calendrical commemorations shape effectually our lives, and not always for the better. Time in its various dimensions—historical or cosmic, public or private, linear or cyclical, continuous or discontinuous—is a fundamental feature of life experience. And yet, cultural anthropologists are in broad agreement that what qualifies as ‘time’ is in fact a social-cultural construction marked-off by the frequency of the culture’s rituals, ceremonies, and festivals. Calendars don’t simply tell time; they contribute to creating and recreating cultural life and human experience in terms of a meaningful order. My concern, then, is that my student’s views on Earth Day and Easter are indicative of wider macro-cultural beliefs and practices that fail to recognize how these two calendrical events in fact reveal two incompatible ecologies.

If we were to travel back two thousand years ago, we would see a somewhat similar situation in the city of Athens, at a place called Mars Hill. There, instead of a cynical student in the classroom, we have literal philosophical Cynics in the midst of Epicurean and Stoic philosophers. And in their gathering as the so-called Areopagus, the summit of Athenian intellectual life, there stood before them a man by the name of Paul, who proceeded to tell a grand and wonderful story: The God of the Hebrews, the so-called ‘Unknown God’ of the Athenians, created the entire universe as the prototype of a temple, a great cosmic arena to display day and night the fullness of his glory and majesty. And yet the presence of sin and death by virtue of the disobedience of humanity has marred this cosmic temple, resulting in the frustration of that glory both in creation and in the creature. But, in the midst of the fallen state, this God promised the Jewish patriarchs that he would one day decisively deal with the problem of sin and death and reconcile the creation back to himself, with every square inch of the cosmos emanating his divine glory. This promised time has now arrived with the coming of Jesus of Nazareth. As the Davidic King, Jesus is the one through whom the world is reconciled, so that sin and death no longer have dominion over us. “How could you possibly know this”, they would ask of Paul. His answer was consistent and unswerving: “Christos anestē! Christ is risen!” In his cross and resurrection, sin and death have been vanquished. The hope of the Hebrew has in fact broken into this world through the resurrection of Christ. The frustrated Hellenistic hope of resurrection, illustrated by Orpheus’ futile efforts to bring back his bride Euridice from death and Hades, has been now been fulfilled by Christ. The pursuit of unity in diversity, the Greco-Roman solution to the disorder of this world, has been realized in all nations being swept up into the unity in diversity in the fellowship of the Trinity.

Hence, Christ’s resurrection was from the beginning bound up with cosmic significance. The earliest Christian confessions (1 Cor 8:6; Phil 2:11; Col 1:15-20; Eph 1:3-14; Jn 1:3) pronounce Christ’s exaltation entailing Christ’s Lordship over all creation (cf. Rom 4:17). Paul’s letter to the Corinthians describes God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ in what biblical scholar Greg Sterling calls prepositional metaphysics, where the dynamics of the cosmos were described with terms like ‘from,’ ‘in,’ and ‘through.’ Thus Paul says: “For us, there is one God the Father, from (ek) whom are all things and we in (eis) him, and one Lord Jesus Christ, through (dia) whom are all things and we through (dia) him” (1 Cor 8:6).[1] Similarly, in Col 1:15-20, Christ is depicted as the one through whom all things are created and in whom all things cohere. Indeed, in Christ, the divine Logos, all things are made new (Rev 21:5).

However, the advent of the modern age represents a very different ecology, one that has been termed a ‘socialized ecology.’ Modernity theorist Anthony Giddens notes that the modern age is characterized by an unprecedented level of human intervention in the natural world. Irrigation and sanitation systems, drainage and sewer technologies, mechanisms for monitoring weather currents, and improved management of the natural environment collectively spare us from the droughts, contagions, floods, and other natural hazards that would have devastated pre-modern societies.[2] Indeed, ours is an age distinguished by what Bill McKibben has termed the ‘end of nature’; society and ecology are now so intimately bound together that the natural world no longer exists as a phenomenon independent of human activity and society.

Socialized nature comes with two consequences. The first is the concern of the modern environmentalist: this new ecological order is producing what has been called a ‘greenhouse effect’ that has the potential to inadvertently cause natural disasters which would wreak havoc on significant global populations. But, secondly, Giddens observes that the end of nature also entails the ‘end of morality.’ Insofar as social ecologies are organized and governed by modern scientific processes, they are comprised of mechanisms and operations considered value neutral and thus devoid of moral frames of reference. Social ecologies in effect sequester morality from a dominant ontology constituted by control and technique, management and prediction. As such, social ecologies are inhabited by persons emancipated from classical moral definitions, dispositions, and constraints. To the extent that the human person is an extension of the same processes that organize and govern socialized nature, there is an inward turn toward the self as the source for life, where the same processes that manage and manipulate nature can be applied to the reconstruction of the self. As theologian David F. Wells has observed, what was once a moral age has transformed into a therapeutic age, characterized by “a confidence in self-mastery, the belief that the self can be reconstructed, that its aches and pains, its bewilderment, its confessions, can all be healed with the right technique.”[3]

Of further interest is in how these two consequences interact. Because social ecologies are devoid of any collectively recognized moral law, modern ‘morality’ becomes consequentialist, in that only coercion, compulsion, and extortion can provide a motivation for ethical conformity. This is where the alarmism of the apocalyptic predictions for global warming comes in, and why dissenting scientific opinions, represented most notably by MIT climatologist Richard Lindzen, are ignored if not ridiculed. The significance of the very possibility of imperilment is artificially inflated and immanentized in a world that operates according to consequentialist motives and risk assessment. But these consequences, it is asserted, can in fact be avoided if we apply the appropriate techniques. This is the importance of stressing the salvific significance of activities such as planting trees, recycling, and reducing our carbon footprints. This turn towards technique to remake positively our world extends from the very subjective processes by which we reinvent ourselves; the sovereign self supplies the therapeutic resources by which we can reinvent the planet.

And herein lies my concern with Earth Day and what its observance reveals about ourselves. Earth Day commemorates the orientation of sovereign individuals toward a socialized ecology devoid of morality, constituted by discourses and practices that entail consequentialist ethics and reconstructive techniques. As such, Earth Day and Easter represent two fundamentally different ecologies, what we might call a ‘modern ecology’ versus a ‘moral ecology.’ This is why I find various Christian attempts to ‘baptize’ Earth Day so forced. To the degree Earth Day is a temporal and practical extension of a socialized ecology devoid of morality, it renders irrelevant the cosmic claims of the Christian gospel. Christianity has always affirmed man’s capacity to destroy God’s creation, at the heart of which is the defilement of the image of God which we all bear. What Christianity has not done is accommodate such detrimental capacities to thoroughly secular and amoral frames of reference. Thus, given the incessantly secularized piety of Earth Day, the call to good stewardship over our environment begs the question: Which environment? Are we to be good stewards over an artificially crafted ecology governed by consequentialism and technique, or an inherently moral ecology that has been incorporated into the transformative life, death, and resurrection of Christ?

It is no coincidence that Easter became historically the preferred time for proselyte baptism. The baptismal ritual began with exorcisms over the water, which was associated with the kingdom of the dead in ancient mythology. As death was the domain of Satan, Cyril could speak of baptism as a victory over the demonic forces indwelling the waters (Catechetical Lectures, III:10). Not only did the catechumenate undergo exorcism, but Christ conquering the seas of death meant that the spirit of evil was exorcised “from the air, water, and the oil as well. From this vantage baptism is a proleptic re-creation of the entire cosmos.”[4]

So what does Easter have to do with Earth Day? If we recover what Easter is really all about, then, well, nothing. Easter is not about recycling, but resurrection; it is not about saving the environment, but celebrating the one who already has. As Christians, we practice a Lenten fast not to reduce our carbon footprint, but to empty ourselves in a manner comparable to Christ’s kenosis, and to be filled with his presence through prayer and contemplation. We bless water, consecrate bread and wine, and plant gardens not for fear of an impeding ecological Armageddon, but to prepare time and space for their future transfiguration when Christ returns, when God will be all in all.

And so, yes, I’ll say it and mean it: “Earth Day? Humbug!” And in its place, I’ll proclaim that greeting which resounds throughout the globe at the dawn of Easter morning, the beginning of the renewal of all things: “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!”

He is risen! He is RISEN!

This is probably the first cinematic depiction of the resurrection in color: DeMille's original 1927 version of King of Kings. Typical of the silent era, the acting is overdone, while the resurrection itself is a bit understated. Jesus walks out of the tomb as if nothing else happened. Nevertheless, a very moving portrayal of the most glorious morning in history.

N.T. Wright: Stop trivializing Easter

A gem by N.T. Wright, written a few years back but still quite timely.

The historian must explain why Christianity got going in the first place, why it hailed Jesus as Messiah despite His execution (He hadn't defeated the pagans, or rebuilt the Temple, or brought justice and peace to the world, all of which a Messiah should have done), and why the early Christian movement took the shape that it did. The only explanation that will fit the evidence is the one the early Christians insisted upon - He really had been raised from the dead. His body was not just reanimated. It was transformed, so that it was no longer subject to sickness and death.

Let's be clear: the stories are not about someone coming back into the present mode of life. They are about someone going on into a new sort of existence, still emphatically bodily, if anything, more so. When St Paul speaks of a “spiritual” resurrection body, he doesn't mean “non-material”, like a ghost. “Spiritual” is the sort of Greek word that tells you,not what something is made of, but what is animating it. The risen Jesus had a physical body animated by God's life-giving Spirit. Yes, says St Paul, that same Spirit is at work in us, and will have the same effect - and in the whole world.

Now, suddenly, the real meaning of Easter comes into view, as well as the real reason why it has been trivialised and sidelined. Easter is about a new creation that has already begun. God is remaking His world, challenging all the other powers that think that is their job. The rich, wise order of creation and its glorious, abundant beauty are reaffirmed on the other side of the thing that always threatens justice and beauty - death. Christianity's critics have always sneered that nothing has changed. But everything has. The world is a different place.

Easter has been sidelined because this message doesn't fit our prevailing world view. For at least 200 years the West has lived on the dream that we can bring justice and beauty to the world all by ourselves.

The split between God and the “real” world has produced a public life that lurches between anarchy and tyranny, and an aesthetic that swings dramatically between sentimentalism and brutalism. But we still want to do things our own way, even though we laugh at politicians who claim to be saving the world, and artists who claim “inspiration” when they put cows in formaldehyde.

The world wants to hush up the real meaning of Easter. Death is the final weapon of the tyrant or, for that matter, the anarchist, and resurrection indicates that this weapon doesn't have the last word. When the Church begins to work with Easter energy on the twin tasks of justice and beauty, we may find that it can face down the sneers of sceptics, and speak once more of Jesus in a way that will be heard.

Tintinnabulation!

Here the people smite their various metallaphones.

Editing hell out of Wesley

Earlier this week, I critiqued John Piper's call to amend the Apostles Creed. Piper finds no Scriptural basis for the clause, "He descended into hell." I begged to differ. Piper's rejection of that particular clause, however, is by no means unique. Many, perhaps most, Protestant worship books and hymnals over the years have either deleted it or placed it in [brackets]. Sacred Tradition notwithstanding, the thought of our Lord spending time in hell, whether to preach to the souls imprisoned therein or what have you, is simply taboo in many churches.

Later in the week, as I was compiling a few hymns for a service at a local nursing home, I was reminded yet again of how ingrained is the disdain for the thought of Christ descending into hell. With it being Easter Week, I wanted to focus, naturally, on the theme of the resurrection. One of the most stirring hymns on that subject is Charles Wesley's "Christ the Lord is Risen Today." Growing up a Methodist, this was the one "must sing" hymn every Easter Sunday. From childhood, I remember singing the second stanza thusly:

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

That is not, however, the way Wesley originally wrote the hymn. Aside from the fact that the Alleluia's were added along with the music, this stanza is actually a merger of portions of two stanzas. Here are Wesley's original words, with the deleted phrases italicized:

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Lo! the Sun’s eclipse is over, Alleluia!
Lo! He sets in blood no more, Alleluia!

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Alleluia!
Christ hath burst the gates of hell, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

Note the strong affirmation, "Christ hath burst the gates of hell." How many hymnals omit this line? My guess is, most of them. The truncated version makes good enough sense, but the uncut version makes perfect sense. The opening of paradise is coupled with bursting the gates of hell. The affirmation of Christ's victory is made all the more complete.

Perhaps at some point long ago, a well-meaning hymnal editor was looking for a way to fit a long hymn into a short space. More likely, however, the now standardized edited version of Wesley's hymn of the resurrection reflects a long-standing aversion to the touchy subject of Christ descending into hell.

Apostasy, resurrection, and a little common sense

In preparing them for his ordeal of suffering and death, Jesus told his disciples they would "all fall away" in fulfillment of the prophecy, "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered" (Mark 14:27). There is an element of common sense here which is often overlooked. In Greek, the words for "apostasy" and "resurrection" are antonyms. There is the sense that one must "fall away" before one can "stand up again." In other words, the familiar teaching in Christian eschatology that there must first be a "falling away" before the consummation of all things, that is, before the resurrection, is rooted in this very basic premise.

Jesus cast the ordeal of his suffering, death, and resurrection against the grand backdrop of God's plan for the redemption of his creation. In the midst of his ordeal, his disciples would "fall away." The intensity of the conflict would be such that they would abandon the faith and look instead toward self-preservation. Peter would embody this "falling away" with his three denials "before the rooster crows twice" (Mark 14:30).

Things would be quite different following the resurrection, however. Jesus assured his disciples that "after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee" (Mark 14:28). Rising from the dead, Jesus would restore the faith of those who had fallen away. The meaning and purpose of the resurrection is intensified by the fact that it would be preceded by the apostasy. Had there been no apostasy, there would have been no need for the resurrection; but because there was an apostasy, the power of the resurrection to restore all things is all the more glorious.

In order to appreciate fully what Jesus accomplished in rising from the dead, it is first necessary to realize how far we human beings have fallen from our original state of righteousness. We are children of Adam and Eve and, therefore, heirs of the great apostasy by which we lost our standing in right relationship with God. Only the cross can atone for our sin. Only the resurrection can restore our standing with God.

Those pugnacious "super apostles"

On the day the world was supposed to end, a little reminder about the dangers of exalting oneself above others.

Among the most pugnacious and disagreeable of Paul's opponents were the so-called "super apostles," those who claimed a superior knowledge of the mysteries of God and derided Paul as a novice. Two of the worst offenders were Hymenaeus and Philetus (2 Timothy 2:14-26) who were propagating the outlandish claim "that the resurrection has already happened." Paul disowned these men and their claims, noting that "They are upsetting the faith of some."

Harold Camping: 21st century Hymenaeus 

The claim by Hymenaeus and Philetus "that the resurrection has already happened" was "upsetting" to some because it was self-serving and self-glorifying. It set these "super apostles" above those, like Paul, who humbly and freely admitted that "the resurrection from the dead" was a goal which they had "not yet attained" (Philippians 3:12-16).

The resurrection is the outcome of a life lived in obedience to Christ. Paul was correct in his attitude of humility, knowing that the closer he got to the goal, the less he should think of himself. Union with Christ was, for Paul, a lifelong journey which required dying to self in order to be fully realized. This side of eternity, he knew that he could never confidently claim to have reached this ultimate outcome without calling attention to himself instead of Christ.

The resurrection, after all, is all about Christ. Inasmuch as we experience Christ working in our lives to transform us out of a life of sin and into a life of obedience, we can experience something of the benefits of the resurrection now. But the full implications of the resurrection will not be realized until the final consummation at the last day. In Christ, the last day is brought into the present from the future. But by claiming "that the resurrection has already happened," Hymenaeus and Philetus were projecting themselves from the present into the future, thus "upsetting the faith of some" by setting themselves above all accountability and discipline. They were free to "live and let live," indulge every carnal passion, and look down upon those pitiful souls who had not yet realized such "freedom."

Paul warns Timothy to avoid such persons and to go about his work faithfully, not quarreling about words but "rightly handling the word of truth." For the truth, spoken humbly yet unashamedly, will expose every lie for what it is.

Historical vs. Apocalyptic: A false dichotomy

I'm not really sure what to make of this. Tom Gilson at Evangel calls attention to a theological dispute between Michael Licona, author of The Resurrection of Jesus: A New Historiographical Approach, and  two leading "inerrantists," Norman Geisler and Albert Mohler. I have a great deal of respect for Mohler and his concerns about Licona's interpretation of Matthew 27:52-53 are well taken and expressed in a charitable manner. Geisler, on the other hand, has a penchant for making mountains out of molehills and his objections appear more calculated to discourage, rather than encourage, debate.

The passage in question is a pretty straightforward account of events concurrent with the death and resurrection of Jesus. Licona, however, argues that Matthew's account of the raising of "many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep" might be interpreted "figuratively" as a form of apocalyptic literature. It is a "tentative" view which Licona may want to revise upon further reflection. However, the controversy exposes a problem which needs to be addressed by advocates of biblical inerrancy. There appears to have emerged a false dichotomy between "historical" and "apocalyptic" literature.

Is Matthew's account of the resurrection of the saints any less "historical" because he uses "apocalyptic" language to describe it? I would say precisely the opposite is true. The historical (not to mention, eschatological) significance of the bodies of the saints coming out of their tombs is only enhanced by Matthew's use of apocalyptic language. It is the same language employed by, among others, Ezekiel and Daniel to describe God's ultimate act of restoration. In using it to describe events concurrent with the cross, Matthew is driving home the point that, in Jesus Christ crucified and risen, that which had up to now been veiled has now been unveiled.

"The curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook and the rocks were split" (Matthew 27:51).

What happened when Jesus died and rose again was so literally earth-shaking that Matthew could use nothing but earth-shaking language to describe it.

A day of many celebrations, but the Resurrection still trumps them all

I am somewhat ashamed to admit that this year's National Day of Prayer (which is today) caught me a little off guard. I suppose the main reason is that, due to job commitments, I have not been quite as active with community ministry organizations over the past year. Still, I recall that last year's observance came with a great deal of advance fanfare (much of it negative). This year, however, the only news of any consequence was last month's ruling by a federal appeals court overturning a decision by a dimwit judge who had declared the observance unconstitutional. Other than that, the day seems to have come (and gone) rather quietly (although the press, predictably, tried to create controversy where there was none) with local ceremonies around the nation proceeding as normal.

Of course, the national euphoria surrounding the demise of Osama bin Laden and President Obama's long overdue visit to Ground Zero may have overshadowed this year's observance. Also, coinciding with the celebration of Cinco de Mayo wasn't exactly helpful. But I would like to think the main reason for this year's National Day of Prayer coming and going so quietly was its close proximity to Easter, the highest holy day of the Christian year. Righteousness indeed exalts a nation, and a day set aside for crying out to God on behalf of the nation and its leaders will always have a certain significance, even if only symbolic. But for Christians in America, who have always been (and likely always will be) the main advocates for and participants in the National Day of Prayer, the real celebration is that of our Lord's victory over death and, still only a little over two weeks removed from Resurrection Day, most of us are still in celebration mode, or at least should be.

So, whether it's the National Day of Prayer, Cinco de Mayo, or Ground Zero, today has been a day of many celebrations. But the Resurrection still trumps them all.

Christ is risen!

He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Here the people smite their various metallaphones.

Begotten again to a lively hope (Jonathan Edwards)

As the sun, rising out of darkness and from under the earth, raises the whole world with him, raises mankind out of their beds, and by his light, as it were, renews all things and fetches them up out of darkness, so Christ, rising from the grave and from a state of death, he, as the first begotten from the dead, raises all his Church with him, Christ the first fruits and afterwards they that are Christ's at his coming. And as all the world is enlightened and brought out of darkness by the rising of the sun, so by Christ's rising we are begotten again to a lively hope, and all our happiness and life and light and glory and the restitution of all things is from Christ rising from the dead, and is by his resurrection.

Images or Shadows of Divine Things

Words of life which pierce the darkness of death

The name Justus Jonas (1493-1555) may be obscure to all but the most diligent students of the Reformation, but this gifted scholar, polemicist, and translator was a close enough friend of Martin Luther to have had the privilege of preaching at the Great Reformer's funeral. Pop culture evangelicals might appreciate the fact that the text Jonas chose for the occasion was one of their favorites, 1 Thessalonians 4.13-18. They might not appreciate, however, his treatment of the passage.

This sermon deals with the resurrection of the dead, that we will see our dear father, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther, who has left this world, again on the Last Day. For St. Paul clearly says to the Thessalonians that Christ will lead wit him those who have died in him. A Christian can find comfort in these words; whoever does not find comfort in these words should not think that he is a Christian. For this is such a rich comforting text for which man cannot pay with gold. A Christian relies on it, finds comfort in these words of Paul, and believes firmly he will rise again on the Last Day with all Christians. A godless person and Epicurean does not rest his comfort on the words of Paul but on money and possessions, on greed, avarice, etc. For he neither knows nor believes that he will rise again on the Last Day and will see again those who have lived with him and after him. But Paul says: the Lord will come with a cry of command, etc. The Lord is great, this his triumph and glory also must be great. But an Epicurean does not care for these words as was said; he also is not concerned about them. But for a Christian heart they are pure pearls and precious gems. Thus Paul also considers these words a particular and high mystery which he is telling the Christians here (the world knows nothing of it) concerning the resurrection of the dead; and says: encourage one another with these words. As if he wanted to say: Behold, I will reveal a heavenly mystery to you, namely: that the world and all people whom you see here, young and old, rich and poor, will have to go down into the earth, i.e., will die and be buried, both Christians and non-Christians, and finally again will rise on the Last Day with their bodies, flesh and blood, in great glory, in spite of being eaten by worms in the earth, rotting and decaying, as Paul attests in 1 Corinthians, chapter 15: What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory.

Consistent with the commonly accepted interpretation of the time, Jonas reads the passage as referring to the resurrection of the dead. Moreover, he applies it in a manner consistent with Paul's original intent, namely, as a pastoral word of comfort to persons bereaved by the loss of loved ones. It is, indeed, an ideal text for a funeral because it includes both the acknowledgment of grief over the loss of the dearly departed and the proclamation of the glorious Good News that the dead, now resting in Jesus, will rise again on the Last Day. There is great comfort in Paul's words, for they are words of life which pierce the darkness of death.

There is nothing in Jonas's sermon to suggest that he understood this passage to refer to anything other than the final resurrection of the dead and the coming of Christ in glory on the Last Day. The idea of a "secret rapture" prior to a seven-year "tribulation" is nowhere to be found in Jonas or any of the other Reformers. Such a novel interpretation of 1 Thessalonians 4.13-18 was unheard of prior to the early-to-mid-nineteenth century.

+Wright on the resurrection

H/T to Chip Altman.

A glorious vision of new life

Ezekiel 37.1-14, Romans 6.16-23, John 11.7-44

One of the most important lessons which ministers are taught in seminary and in countless books on pastoral theology is to model your ministry after Jesus. That’s pretty sound advice, except in one area. We don’t learn much from Jesus about how to conduct a funeral. Every time Jesus shows up at a funeral, he has the peculiar habit of bringing the deceased back to life. What began as a funeral ends as a wedding feast.

But isn’t that the point John is trying to make by structuring the first half of his Gospel around the signs and wonders of Jesus’ ministry? What begins at a wedding in Cana comes full circle at a funeral in Bethany. Jesus has been setting the stage for the raising of Lazarus ever since he turned water to wine.

But to understand the story fully, we have to go back further, much further, to the day when the Israelites languished in exile in Babylon. For it is during that dark period of Israel’s history that the prophet Ezekiel had a vision: a vision which looked at first like a gloomy vision of death, but which was transformed by the Word and the Spirit of God into a glorious vision of new life. Ezekiel envisioned the day when the people of Israel would be gathered again in their homeland. To describe this great homecoming, he uses imagery that is breathtaking, or more accurately, breath-giving. “Thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people. And I will bring you into the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people. And I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I am the LORD; I have spoken, and I will do it, declares the LORD.”

This marvelous prophetic vision, these inspiring, hopeful, uplifting images seen and described by Ezekiel so many years before literally reverberate in the words of Jesus throughout the first half of John’s Gospel. “Truly, truly I say to you, an hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.” “Do not marvel at this, for an hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come out.” “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” “Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”

The language of Ezekiel and the language of Jesus are unmistakably one and the same. For the Israelites in Babylon, Ezekiel’s vision is symbolic of their return from exile. Though they were at the time “dead” in Babylon, God promises through the prophet that the day is coming when they would be “alive” again; restored to their homeland. In previous chapters, Ezekiel has spoken about the renewal of the covenant, cleansing from sin, of God gathering his sheep as when a shepherd seeks them out when they are scattered, and, finally, of giving Israel a new heart and a new spirit. Not for Israel’s sake, but for the sake of his holy name, God will act to rescue and vindicate his people, and thus vindicate his holiness for all to see.

Through Ezekiel, God speaks to his people, “I will take you from the nations and gather you from all the countries and bring you into your own land. I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleanness, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules. You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.”

By now, the picture is becoming clear. This is the language of restoration, of gaining back that which was lost. God himself, who breathed the breath of life into Adam’s nostrils in the beginning, is going to do so again. The renewal of the covenant will mean the new creation. And the word which came to be used to describe this great reworking, this world-ending, creation-transforming act which God promised to do among his people to manifest his glory was RESURRECTION!

Even after their return from exile, the Israelites whose hearts were truly seeking after God knew that Ezekiel’s vision was more than just a metaphor. There was a deeper, dare we say LITERAL, meaning behind all the symbolic language. No exile would be permanent. Even death itself would be swallowed up by life in the great and glorious day when God would act to restore all things.

So, as John writes his Gospel, he brings together this long history of hope and expectation, a hope expressed in symbols but expected to be reality. From the wedding at Cana to the funeral at Bethany, everything Jesus has said and every sign he has performed has been leading up to this moment. It’s not like he hasn’t been preparing the people for it. He speaks the very language which the people of God ought to understand. “You must be born again.” “I am the light of the world.” “I will raise them up on the last day.” “[He] who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. . . The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.” “I am the good shepherd.” “Before Abraham was, I AM.”

But every time Jesus opens his mouth or performs some sign, somebody somewhere wants to kill him. The people are so bound up in their sins, so enslaved by their human traditions, that they cannot receive the Word of God, but instead reject the Word made flesh as a blasphemer. “I am this. I am that.” Doesn’t he know that’s taking the Lord’s name in vain?

By the time he gets to Bethany, Jesus is in no mood for sentimentality. Our polite English translations which say he was “deeply moved” really understate it. The Greek term means, literally, “indignant.” Even his disciples were still clueless. When he tells them they are going back to Judea, they try to stop him. “Lord, last time you were there, they tried to kill you.” But when it is obvious they won’t prevail, they seem resigned to a tragic end. As Thomas says, “Let us go also, that we may die with him.”

What are they expecting? DEATH! What was Mary expecting? “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” What were the people expecting? “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

But now that Jesus has arrived on the scene, we know that death will not have the last word.

Among the cast of characters in this story, Martha stands out as the one who seems to hold on to a glimmer of hope. She confesses her belief in “the resurrection at the last day.” She even confesses her belief in Jesus as the Savior of the world. But all of this only compounds her grief, because even her expectations are clouded by the shadow of death. Like her sister Mary, she complains, “Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

It’s no wonder “Jesus wept.” He wept not in grief over Lazarus, as the people presumed. He wept in grief over all these lost sheep who still didn’t get it. The disciples, Mary and Martha, the crowd: their focus is uniformly on DEATH. It’s the valley of dry bones all over again. Lazarus lies in the tomb, but the dead are outside grieving.

Martha is right about one thing. “Lord, by now there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.” Death does have a way of stinking up the place, of casting a long shadow over the hopes and expectations of a people. Death has a way of closing their eyes in blindness, of shutting them off in a cold, dark, smelly tomb.
But against this dark backdrop, the light of the world is about to shine. When Jesus says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life,” he means it literally. “You believe in the resurrection on the last day? Woman, you are looking at the resurrection. Open your eyes and behold the living end!”

In Jesus, the end has come, but life goes on. “Did I not tell you,” he says, “that if you believed you would see the glory of God? Did I not tell you a time was coming when the dead would hear my voice and come out of their tombs? Did I not tell you that everyone who believes in me has eternal life and I will raise them up on the last day? Did I not tell you I am the good shepherd, that I call my own by name and lead them out? Lazarus, come out!”

And Lazarus, called by name, hearing the voice of the good shepherd, the incarnate Word of God, comes out of the tomb, out of the darkness and into the warm embrace of the light. But wait. This marvelous work is not yet complete. Lazarus is still bound up in the grave clothes of the old life. John says his hands and feet “were bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth.”

Jesus says, “Unbind him and let him go.” Take off those inhibiting reminders of what used to be. Put off those shackles which tie him to the past. Let him come forth a new creation.

This is a pivotal moment in John’s Gospel. Here begins the unbinding not only of Lazarus, but of the whole mystery of God’s redemptive plan, seen thus far in tiny glimpses through the signs Jesus has performed, but only revealed fully and completely in Jesus himself. Here is the turning point, the radical re-orientation, whereby we begin to understand that Christ draws us to himself not by what he does, but by who he is: the Bread of Life, the light of the world, the good shepherd, the resurrection and the life.

The life into which he calls us is the very life of God, lived in the unceasing fellowship and perfect unity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It is the life we had when God created us in his image and likeness. It is the life we lost when we took matters into our own hands and tried to become like God on our own terms. It is the life we can never again know, or even desire, as long as we are bound up in the grave clothes of sin and disobedience. The old life, as long as we are bound up in it, seems like the good life. It’s comfortable and cozy in that cool, dark cave. We like wearing those old clothes, even if they are a little tight in the waist from our over-indulgences. We see no need to take put off the old and be clothed in the new. We already have everything we could possibly want. We have it bad, but we have it good. We have the best of both worlds, and the freedom to choose to live however we want. But what’s that odor that keeps following us around?

Paul makes it very clear in his letter to the Romans. If that’s the kind of “life” you have, you’re not living, you’re dying! You are a slave to sin, and at the end of the day, you’re going to collect your wages—and the wages of sin is death! But the good news is Jesus has come to make us a better offer.

Charles Wesley describes so beautifully the joy that comes from receiving the free gift of God that is eternal life in Christ: “Long my imprisoned spirit lay, fast bound in sin and nature’s night; Thine eye diffused a quickening ray; I woke, the dungeon flamed with light. My chains fell off, my heart was free; I rose, went forth, and followed thee.”

Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, even though he die, yet shall he live. And whoever lives and believes in me shall never die.”

“Do you believe this?”

Go, then, and live the life that manifests the glory of God in you, through you, and all around you.

Ignorance masquerading as scholarship

Michael Patton pointed out this fine example of ignorance masquerading as scholarship from April DeConick, identified on her blog as the Isla Carroll and Percy E. Turner Professor of Biblical Studies at Rice University. If this is what passes for "biblical studies" at Rice, students should demand their money back.

There is a big difference between confessional scholarship and its working assumptions and historical-critical scholarship and its working assumptions, and we must never confuse the two. Confessional scholarship is willing to compromise and apologize in order to keep 'history' aligned with the faith tradition. It is willing to understand theology as history and write about knowledge in these terms. Historical-critical scholarship is built on the presuppositions of the scientific search for knowledge. It is unwilling to allow theology to be history.

If you are at all uncertain about this distinction, it is easiest to see it when you look at a religion that is not your own and the claims to truth that religion makes. Think about claims that are made about Mohammad, Buddha, or any religion that has "historical" founders or scriptures. Its views on their founders are theology historicized. They are religious truth claims that have been accepted as fact by believers from that tradition, and scholars who work in that tradition. Those outside that tradition recognize this easily.

The easiest example of this in Christianity (which I have also discussed on numerous occasions previously) is the physical resurrection of Jesus. Confessional scholars are willing (some even feel compelled) to allow for the physical resurrection of Jesus to be historical fact. Of course it is not. Dead bodies don't come back to life. And Jesus' body did not come back to life. This is a theological doctrine that was historicized in the literature of the early believers. Those outside of Christianity, and non-confessional academics in another field (like science) see this immediately.

What should be obvious from the tone of Professor DeConick's drivel is that there is no form of "scholarship" that demands a stricter adherence to a "confessional" perspective than the historical-critical method. "Of course it is not" is about as dogmatic a statement as one can make with regard to the historical veracity of the resurrection. Thomas C. Oden, former fad theologian turned orthodox scholar, marvelously refutes this tired (and patently ahistorical) argument in his book After Modernity. . .What? (pp. 134-36)

Suppose the prophets were right, that God's will is revealed through historical events, and hence that God's will is finally knowable only at the conclusion of the drama of history. Theology would then be intent on trying to understand, if possible the anticipated end of the process, beyond all current historical alienations, finitude, blindness, and sin.

The earliest church reasoned in this way: In Jesus' resurrection the end is already present, in an anticipated sense. Thus the will of God is finally revealed. So to participate in Christ is already to share in the events of the last days. It all made reasonable sense, seen from within the assumptions of Jewish historical reasoning, transformed by a living encounter with the resurrected Jesus.

We today must learn to think historically in the Hebraic sense if we are to make sense of this central proclamation of Christianity. Seen in this frame of reference, the resurrection is so decisive that the importance of all other theological issues pales beside it. It focuses on nothing less than the final revelation of the will of God in history.

We are searching for the center of the wide circumference of Christian experience. What is the center? Resurrection as interpersonal meeting with the living Christ. Not resurrection as idea or past event but resurrection as a currently experienced interpersonal encounter. This is why interpersonal meeting has been the central feature of Christian theology from its inception.

Something so decisive happened anticipatively for human history in the resurrection of Jesus that it does not and cannot fit into ordinary categories of understanding. We cannot rule out the resurrection of Jesus simply on the grounds (as Troeltsch's law of analogy would require) that nothing like this ever happened to us before. How could it! The event of which Christianity speaks is, like all truly significant interpersonal meeting, an event without analogy.

The least plausible of all explanations of the resurrection is that it was generated out of the despairing imagination of the disciples. For that does not explain why they were willing to risk their lives for it. Nor does it account for one of the most characteristic literary features of the Easter narratives: the report that the beholders were utterly surprised by the appearance oft he risen Lord. The "surprise" element of the Easter narratives is too recurrent to be considered an anomaly. It is not likely that one would report being surprised by something that one had previously projected. No. Something occurred in Jesus' resurrection. It is quite unconvincing to assume that it could have been nothing. Whatever it was, it was experienced as the resurrected or spiritual or glorified body of Jesus and understood as the final self-disclosure of God.

The Hope of Israel and the Resurrection

The hope of Israel is tied directly to the resurrection. Nowhere in the Old Testament is this made more explicit than in Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37:1-14). Here, the image of the resurrection is used to describe the restoration of "the whole house of Israel" to its homeland. When Israel returns from its exile in Babylon, it will be as though the dead have been raised to life. The dead, dry bones will be reconstituted, "bone to its bone" and there will be "sinews on them" along with flesh and skin. Then God will send his Spirit and breathe upon them, as he did when he first created Adam, and they will come to life.

These words, spoken to a people in exile, offered comfort and hope. God would eventually bring them home. But this is to be no ordinary homecoming. "Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people," God says. "And I will bring you into the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people."

But is this simply a metaphor for the return to the Promised Land? Many, no doubt, thought so after they did, in fact, return after seventy years of exile in Babylon. But the careful reader would have grasped the deeper meaning of Ezekiel's vision. It was a vision involving "the whole house of Israel," not just the two souther tribes who had been carried off to Babylon. God promised his people a return to "the land of Israel," not merely the region of Judah, where the southern tribes had lived.

Read it all at Columbia Faith and Culture Examiner.

Longenecker: The Resurrection and Theological Sleight of Hand

H/T to Bishop David Chislett for highlighting this brilliant essay by Dwight Longenecker on the intellectual dishonesty of modernism.

The main plague of modern Christianity is, well, modern Christianity. That is to say, modernism. Modernism may be defined as the conviction that the truths of Christianity were determined by the cultural circumstances of the first century, and that they are therefore no longer relevant of credible by modern people. The truths of Christianity must be 're-interpreted' for modern, scientific, technologically adept people.

Now, if the modernist were honest about his scheme we wouldn't mind so much. If he said (as some admirably honest modernists do) "The miracles stories are nothing more than symbolic" we would know where we stood. If he said, "The resurrection is a beautiful fairy tale" we would be clear. If he said, "The Virgin Birth is a make believe fantasy story" we'd understand. Then when he (or she) resigned from being a Christian minister we would accept their resignation with understanding (and not a little delight) and wish them well in their new career as a social worker.

But he doesn't do this. Instead the modernist priest continues to use the traditional language and liturgy of Christianity. He sings with gusto, "Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o'er his foes...." He stands up on Easter day and says with a theatrical tone, "Christ is risen from the dead, Alleluia!" to which his faithful people reply, "He is risen indeed. Alleluia!" And everyone feels warm and comfortable.

Furthermore, the modernist minister feels no qualms about drawing his salary, putting in his expense claims and having the rectory redecorated. Indeed, he perceives himself as something of a pioneer. He boldly goes where others fear to tread. He has faced the difficult questions of Christianity and found a new way through. He sees himself as a true man of faith for "isn't faith daring to ask the difficult questions and stepping out into the unknown--letting go all the quaint certainties to launch out into the deep?" Indeed, he even sees himself as a martyr for he has gone through persecution at the hands of the Pharisaical and self righteous orthodox Christians.

So Reverend Wooly continues to use all the conventional language of belief. He does so because he recognizes a certain 'psychological depth' in the 'ancient mythical symbolism'. He believes it helps people. It inspires them. But take him on one side and quiz him a bit you discover that he doesn't really believe in the resurrection at all. For him it is "a beautiful story about life and love eventually overcoming death" or "In some mysterious way the truth and goodness of Jesus continued to live long after his physical body passed away, and isn't that what we all hope for ourselves and our loved ones?"

Of course this is total and utter nonsense. The resurrection means that the physical person who died rose up from the dead and wasn't dead anymore. The tomb was empty. They saw him and they were scared. They ate with him and touched his new body. If this didn't happen then it wasn't resurrection at all. It was just a beautiful idea, but the beautiful idea couldn't even be a beautiful idea if the resurrection didn't happen. The beautiful idea would only be an imaginative story, in which case it wasn't even a beautiful idea, it was just a fairy tale, and it wasn't even a very nice fairy tale, because it promised something it could never deliver.

To say the resurrection is nothing more than "a beautiful idea" is as absurd as saying marriage is a beautiful idea. What if a man said he was married, but you never saw the woman, you never saw the engagement ring and you never saw the children which proved that he had made love to the woman? You'd say it wasn't marriage at all, and it wasn't even a beautiful idea. It was a lie. And what if humanity built a great civilization on this beautiful idea of marriage but none of the men were ever married to women, but still they talked in glowing terms of "the beautiful sacrament of marriage" You would consider the lot of them to be insane.

So modernism, with its theological sleight of hand is not only dishonest, it's insane. Those who follow it live in a world cut off from reality. They live in an alternative reality of their own imagination.

The poisonous thing about this modernism, is that it is so difficult to pin down. It has to come from the Father of Lies since it is so insidiously deceptive. Whenever it appears it never speaks plainly and openly. Instead it resorts to half truths, poetical deceptions and charming myths. It is all smoke and mirrors.

Even worse, it has got into every Christian denomination. It's easy to think this is the disease of the mainline liberal Protestant denominations. Sadly, it has gone deep in the Catholic Church and it affects everything we do. It affects the way we worship, the way we preach, the way we relate to the world, the way we do everything. It lies deeply hidden, and is the root cause of all our problems in the church. Furthermore, like Satan himself, the more a church attempts to root it out, the more subtle the deception goes and the more the lies become hidden under clever academic speak.

So the Catholic modernist hides his disbelief completely and never really says what he means at all, and if he is pushed to explain what he believes about the resurrection he'll say with a sweet smile, "Of course Christ is risen, and what we mean by that remains a glorious mystery", or even worse, he says nothing at all, keeps to the liturgical formulas and goes on through his ministry to undermine everything he says he stands for.

Well you can keep it. Give me the old time religion. I believe Jesus rose from the dead. I believe it was physical. If it wasn't I'd pack it all in tomorrow.

Supernatural vs. Ultimate Reality

I am not a fan of the word "supernatural." I hear it often enough, usually in a religious context. The problem I have with the word is that it is not Scriptural and is wholly inadequate to describe those things associated with the Christian faith that we cannot explain as naturally occurring phenomena. It was the Enligthtenment which created the categories of "natural" and "supernatural" with the intent of discrediting the latter as having to involve the violation of the "laws of nature." Hence, the major doctrines of the Christian faith were to be abandoned or, at least, radically revised because they were based on a belief in the "supernatural" and, therefore, not sustainable under the scrutiny of scientific naturalism.

Scripture, in contrast to Enlightenment rationalism, takes a dim view of the word "natural." It is used almost exclusively to describe the fallen condition. It is synonymous with "mortal." A "natural" person is a "mortal" person, living in open rebellion against God, destined for the grave. A "natural" body is a "mortal" body, inclined toward sin, destined to return to the dust from whence it came. A worldview which holds the "natural" in such low esteem would hold the "supernatural" in even lower esteem. If "natural" means fallen, "supernatural" could only mean fallen to the fullest.

The biblical opposite of "natural" is not "supernatural," but "spiritual." In the resurrection, the natural, mortal body will be transformed into the spiritual body. This does not mean an ethereal, ghostly existence. Rather, it means a change from the natural inclination toward sin and disobedience leading to death to the spiritual inclination toward holiness and obedience leading to life.

This is the hope of every believer, made certain through the death and resurrection of Christ, a transformative event which is not to be described as "supernatural" in that it would have involved a violation of the laws of nature, but as "eschatological" in that it involved the bringing forward of God's ultimate future into the present. What happened for Jesus will happen for all believers on the Last Day. The natural, mortal body will be transformed into the spiritual, immortal body. In and through Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, God will make the whole creation new. This is not a violation of the laws of nature. This is the ultimate reality which will give meaning to all of life and all of history.

Wright on the Resurrection (Again!)

Brian Lowery of Preaching Today interviews N.T. Wright about his new book, Surprised by Hope. Here's some good advice for "resurrection preachers."

So many people think preaching the Resurrection means doing a little bit of apologetics in the pulpit to prove it really is true. Others simply say, "Jesus is raised, therefore there is a life after death." This isn't the point! Those types of sermons may be necessary, but there's more to it than that. To preach the Resurrection is to announce the fact that the world is a different place, and that we have to live in that "different-ness." The Resurrection is not just God doing a wacky miracle at one time. We have to preach it in a way that says this was the turning point in world history.

To take preaching seriously, you need a high theology of the Word of God. When your preaching announces that Jesus is the crucified and risen Lord of the world, things happen. The principalities and powers are called into account. Human beings who once thought the message of someone rising from the dead is ridiculous, actually find that the message of resurrection can transform their lives.

Finally, there must be a relationship between what you say and who you are. Preaching is the personality, infused by the Spirit, communicating the Word of God to people. If there's a mismatch—if you're not being a resurrection person—you may say the right words, but something radical is missing.

Here's the whole interview.

The Transforming Power of the Resurrection

Skeptics who deny the resurrection of Jesus will often employ a classic "straw man" argument. It goes something like this: the resurrection could not have involved the "bodily resuscitation" of Jesus, since such a feat is "scientifically" impossible. This argument, however, is based on a flawed premise.

The message of Easter is not "Christ has been resuscitated," but "Christ is risen!" It is the skeptics, not those who by faith proclaim this fundamental truth of the Christian faith, who reduce the resurrection to mere "bodily resuscitation." The resurrection was and is so much more than the re-animation of a corpse. It is the transformation of Jesus' whole person--spirit, soul, and body--into a higher state of existence.

The message of Easter is not merely that one Man has been raised from the dead but that, in that one Man is emobodied the transformation of all of history--past, present, and future--toward the redemptive purpose and will of God. Indeed, Jesus Christ--crucified and risen--embodies the hope of all creation.

The biggest problem skeptics have with the resurrection is not that it involves the body of Jesus coming back to life, but that it involves a far greater reality than their feeble minds are able to comprehend. So, in an effort to downplay its true significance, they reduce it to a "bodily resuscitation" and then proceed to engage it on the level of scientific naturalism.

Faith, however, trumps rational sophistication. This is what Thomas (John 20:24-29) realized when he beheld the Risen Christ and touched his wounds. As Jesus, by his resurrection, transforms all of history and all of creation, so he also is able to transform a hardcore skeptic ("Unless I see. . .I will not believe.") into a humble believer who freely declares his unqualified devotion ("My Lord and my God!").