Against
the claims that one hears from some this time of year that Christian faith does
not depend on the Resurrection being something very real
– empty tomb and all – here is something from Frederick Buechner:
We can say that the story of the Resurrection
means simply that the teachings of Jesus are immortal like the plays of
Shakespeare or the music of Beethoven and that their wisdom and truth will live
on forever. Or we can say that the Resurrection means that the spirit of Jesus
is undying, that he himself lives on among us, the way that Socrates does, for
instance, in the good that he left behind him, in the lives of all who follow
his great example. Or we can say that the language in which the Gospels
describe the Resurrection of Jesus is the language of poetry and that, as such,
it is not to be taken literally but as pointing to a truth more profound than
the literal. Very often, I think, this is the way that the Bible is written,
and I would point to some of the stories about the birth of Jesus, for
instance, as examples; but in the case of the Resurrection, this simply does
not apply because there really is no story about the Resurrection in the New
Testament. Except in the most fragmentary way, it is not described at all.
There is no poetry about it. Instead, it is simply proclaimed as a fact. Christ
is risen! In fact, the very existence of the New Testament itself proclaims it.
Unless something very real indeed took place on that strange, confused morning,
there would be no New Testament, no Church, no Christianity.
Yet we try to reduce it to poetry anyway: the
coming of spring with the return of life to the dead earth, the rebirth of hope
in the despairing soul. We try to suggest that these are the miracles that the
Resurrection is all about, but they are not. In their way they are all
miracles, but they are not this miracle, this central one to which the whole
Christian faith points.
Unlike the chief priests and the Pharisees,
who tried with soldiers and a great stone to make themselves as secure as they
could against the terrible possibility of Christ's really rising again from the
dead, we are considerably more subtle. We tend in our age to say, "Of
course, it was bound to happen. Nothing could stop it." But when we are
pressed to say what it was that actually did happen, what we are apt to come
out with is something pretty meager: this "miracle" of truth that
never dies, the "miracle" of a life so beautiful that two thousand
years have left the memory of it undimmed, the "miracle" of doubt
turning into faith, fear into hope. If I believed that this or something like
this was all that the Resurrection meant, then I would turn in my certificate
of ordination and take up some other profession. Or at least I hope that I
would have the courage to.
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