Why Do You Seek the Living among the Dead?

Let us begin our search for the Real Jesus with the question: Why do we seek the living among the dead? Why indeed? It is the question the angel in Luke's Gospel put to those coming to the tomb looking for Jesus after his Crucifixion. The angel in effect said, "Well, you won't find him here." Neither will we in our search for the Real Jesus. He is not in a tomb. Something happened!

King Frederick the Great once asked his physician, "Sir, can you give me a single proof for the existence of God?" The physician replied, "Your Majesty, the Jews!" If King Frederick had asked "Sir, can you give me a single proof of the Resurrection of Jesus?" the reply would have to be "Your Majesty, the New Testament."

Historians agree that the New Testament itself is evidence that obviously something happened after Jesus' death. Its historical existence is the proof of that "something." But what? Whatever it was, it was the "big bang" of the Christian religion. While the Christian faith asserts that Jesus was raised from the dead, most skeptics are likely to dismiss such a claim along with the virgin birth as simply "impossible" and their search for the Real Jesus ends before it begins; at the tomb.

But then, what do you make of the New Testament? The New Testament derives from two historical realities. One was the reality of the historical person Jesus. The second was the historical reality of his Resurrection. Something happened at some point in history that demands an answer. It may be unexplainable, but it is, clearly, undeniable. While I am not willing to defend the historical reality of the virgin birth, I do want to defend the historical reality of Jesus' Resurrection. Though only two of the Gospels even carry the birth story of Jesus, all the four Gospels record the Resurrection and the rest of the New Testament assumes it. To dismiss the Resurrection of Jesus out of hand as impossible is not only too simple but, it seems to me, is intellectually dishonest. Why is the resuscitation of a dead person any more difficult to wrap one's mind around than postulating the fact that all the matter that exists in the universe—all the hundreds of thousands of galaxies, including the stardust from which we have evolved—was once upon a time condensed into a mass no bigger than a marble and exploded with a big bang into the universe as we know it? If it is possible for skeptics to contemplate the one, why is it any more difficult or impossible—in principle—to hold the possibility that the same "something" could regather the dust and scattered molecules of a dead person and explode them back into life? If the "singularity," of which physicists speak, can do the one, why could it not do the other?

It is just a thought. But it is a question as honestly put to the scientifically minded skeptics of today as is theirs about our claim of Resurrection.

So I invite all honest skeptics to journey back with me to the first century and gather again at the tomb of Jesus. The one thing the early skeptics could have done to discredit the entire New Testament claim of Resurrection would have been to open the tomb and display the corpse of Jesus. That apparently is the one thing they did not or could not do. But why! Such a disclosure would have been devastating to the early Christian movement. It would still be devastating to Christian faith today! The professor of ancient Judaism and early Christianity at Hebrew University in Jerusalem acknowledged this when asked by a reporter from the BBC,

if the Dead Sea Scrolls will harm Christianity. I said to him that nothing can harm Christianity. The only thing which could be dangerous to Christianity would be to find a tomb with the sarcophagus or ossuary of Jesus—still containing his bones. And then I said I surely hope that it will not be found in the territory of the State of Israel.

The empty tomb is the centerpiece of the New Testament's Resurrection faith. All four Gospels mention it. So the question "Why didn't Jesus' enemies open the tomb?" is not only legitimate but crucial.

The answer is, apparently, "Because the tomb was empty." And why was the tomb empty? "Because somebody took the body out of it and hid it." And who would have done that? "The disciples of Jesus, of course, because they were trying to save face and then made up the story of Resurrection to hide the theft."

It is here that the historians must intervene because the earliest written eyewitness account of the Resurrection does not come from any of the disciples who, it might reasonably be argued, made up the story to save face. It comes—not from any follower of Jesus at all—but from one of his enemies! The apostle Paul, to be specific, who in any evidentiary hearing would have to be considered a hostile witness. His opposition to the Christian movement and determination to stamp it out is given full coverage in Acts (8:1–9:31).

After agreeing with Jewish leaders that the followers of Jesus should be stoned to death—the Jewish punishment for blasphemy—the book of Acts recounts that Paul's plan was to drag back to Jerusalem any of these dangerous blasphemers who could be located in Damascus and have them imprisoned. On his way, the account continues, the resurrected Jesus intercepted Paul, knocked him down, blinded him, and converted him. Moral to that story: don't mess with Jesus!

The account continues. Paul had to be led to Damascus in his blinded condition where he was sheltered and cared for by Ananias, a follower of Jesus. Paul's reputation had preceded him. Ananias was well aware of Paul's murderous intent. We can well imagine that Ananias would have slept with one eye open while Paul was under his roof. Nevertheless, Paul proved to the growing Jesus community that he was truly a converted believer, and as a result, Paul's own words provide us with the first historical eyewitness account of Jesus' Resurrection.

For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scripture, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. (1 Corinthians 15:3–10)

Paul makes this statement at least twenty years before any of the Gospel writers set down their accounts of the Resurrection. But Paul goes further. He responds to the skeptics in the Corinthian congregation by staking the credibility of his message and the integrity of his reputation on the validity of his Damascus conversion experience.

Now if Christ is preached as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? ... If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ ... [so] if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have [really] perished! If in this life we who are in Christ have only hope, we are of all men most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. (1 Corinthians 15:12–20)

Yet even with Paul's firsthand witness to the reality of the Resurrection before us, we are still faced with the question that both believers and skeptics often overlook. The Resurrection of Jesus, in and of itself, proves nothing! Even as a historical reality, the resuscitation of a dead man does not make him the divine Son of God. Being raised from the dead only makes him a medical curiosity. The resuscitation of a dead person might be considered a medical miracle today, but it no more makes that person divine than if he or she had been born with two heads or twelve fingers. It only makes that person a freak of nature. The Resurrection of Jesus simply leaves us with the mystery of its reality—as puzzling a mystery, we might add—as that which caused the big bang of our universe. The question remains: What do you do with such a mystery?

As human animals, we try to solve mysteries by making sense of them. We seek an explanation that fits it into our understanding of the way things work. Unfortunately not all mysteries can be solved. Some will not fit into our understanding of the way things work. These are the mysteries that defy our explanations and cause us to wonder about them. Some mysteries can only be dealt with by a story. A story helps us understand them, if not explain them. It enables us to accommodate their reality. Annie Dillard suggests that we try to protect ourselves from the mysteries that overwhelm us by surrounding them with our words. She does just that, in telling of her experience with a solar eclipse.

What you see in an eclipse is entirely different from what you know ... What you see is much more convincing than any wild-eyed theory you may know ... You have seen photographs of the sun taken during a total eclipse. The corona fills the print. All of those photographs were taken through telescopes [that] can no more cover the breadth and scale of the visual array than language can cover the breadth and simultaneity of internal experience ... I assure you, if you send any shepherds a Christmas card on which is printed a three-by-three photograph of the angel of the Lord, the glory of the Lord, and a multitude of the heavenly host, they will not be sore afraid.... The sun was going, and the world was wrong. The grasses were wrong; they were platinum. Their every detail of stem, head, and blade shone lightless and artificially distinct as an art photographer's platinum print. This color has never been seen on earth. The hues were metallic; their finish was matte. The hillside was a nineteenth-century tinted photograph from which the tints had faded. All the people you see in the photograph, distinct and detailed as their faces look, are now dead ... I was watching a faded color print of a movie filmed in the Middle Ages; I was standing in it, by some mistake. I was standing in a movie of hillside grasses filmed in the Middle Ages. I missed my own century, the people I knew, and the real light of day....

And then, when the eclipse had passed and Annie Dillard had returned home, she said,

It was good to be back among people so clever; it was good to have all the world's words at the mind's disposal, so the mind could begin its task ... The mind—the culture—has two little tools, grammar and lexicon: a decorated sand bucket and a matching shovel. With these we bluster about the continents and do all the world's work. With these we try to save our very lives.

Like Annie Dillard, today's physicists "bluster about the continents" using their buckets and shovels of words and equations to come up with stories to explain the mysteries of our universe. They call their stories "theories" or "laws," which attempt to make some sense of the larger mystery. They speak of singularity or quantum foam in an attempt to hold at bay the threatening insecurity of not knowing; of not understanding. The followers of Jesus—forced by the overwhelming mystery of his Resurrection—looked again at his birth, life, and death and came up with their Stories, trying to understand the mystery of this man. It was the Resurrection that demanded some kind of Story in order for them to understand the wonder of him. We call their explanation the Gospel, the Good News about Jesus. Their Gospel Stories present Jesus to us as the Christ. "Christ" is the operational name that the Gospel writers give Jesus. It sets him uniquely apart from all other human beings. Their Gospel Stories set forth their understanding of Christ's significance for the world. If John were writing his Gospel today, he might begin with something like,

In the beginning was the Singularity and the Singularity was with God, and the Singularity was God. The Singularity was in the beginning with God, and without the Singularity was not anything made that was made. In the Singularity was life, and the life was the light of all that evolved as humanity.... And the Singularity became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; and we beheld its glory; glory as of the only Son from the Father. (Paraphrase of John 1:1–3, 14)

Calvin's reminder, therefore, remains relevant! Faith is not so much a belief in the Singularity, as what the Singularity's attitude is toward us. And that, he says again, we only know in Jesus who is Christ. Calvin and the Gospel writers keep us focused on what the central question is for our faith. Who is this Jesus and what is his significance?

John's answer, however, will have to wait because Paul is the first one to attempt an answer to our question.

So overwhelming was Paul's conversion experience that the dust from it took years to settle in his mind. He had to think about what had happened to him and what it all meant. And like fine wine, it took time to mellow. First, he had to shout the Good News about Christ from the housetops to someone; anyone, everyone! Paul was so energized by his experience that, shortly after his conversion, he literally took off organizing churches all over the Mediterranean world. His first attempts to wrestle with the question are scattered through his letters to these young churches. They are among the earliest written documents that we have of the Christian movement and contain his warm encouragement to these small congregations as they struggled with their faith. The letters offer his advice and guidance to Christians—and here and there, scattered through them—we find a stab of insight. But on the whole, the letters do not give us a considered, cohesive theology. That took time to formulate and he does not offer it to us until the book of Romans.

In trying to fathom the devastation that Jesus' Resurrection appearance did to Paul's identity, we have to remember that Paul was a Roman citizen, which carried with it a pride in citizenship more egotistical than any American superpatriotism. Furthermore, Paul was a card-carrying Jew, one of God's chosen—he and his Jewish colleagues could boast a relationship with God and divine favor that no one else on earth could. He could even brag more loudly than most of his Jewish brothers because he had earned his, "Pharisaic PhD" and took great pride in it. Paul felt he was in possession of privilege and truth as few others in the known universe!

And then in one stroke, everything was vaporized. In what can only be compared to an atomic explosion, Paul met the reality of Jesus on the road to Damascus and was left with nothing but the clothes on his back. His encounter with Jesus as the Christ was like being reborn in a different time and place. Everything was alarmingly new to him. All the old landmarks had been swept away. He had been stripped naked of all that had given him his identity and security. He had no stable ground on which to stand except the reality of this experience. He had been awakened to a glimpse into Eternity. It was as if he saw its Beginning and Ending. The experience was blindingly incandescent, and all he could make out was this Jesus, whom he had been trying to eradicate from the world. This Jesus was in fact God Almighty and was now embracing him.

Not until Paul had time to gather his thoughts, perhaps while in prison awaiting trial, did he attempt to formulate his answer in writing to the question of Jesus and what is his significance as Christ. His letter to the church in Rome, written around AD 58, gives us an intimate glimpse into his inner struggle as he tries to make sense of his Damascus encounter with Christ. We must remember, too, that Paul was not a follower of the historical Jesus. He met Jesus only in the Resurrection and then only as Almighty God in Christ. The book of Romans is filled with his rhetorical questions; questions that Paul is asking himself and with which he is wrestling. Laboriously he works through them—arguing with himself and checking his answers—to be sure his thinking is correct. He is talking to himself. He is working out his own salvation in fear and trembling as he advises his young converts to do (Philippians 2:12). For God's sake, stop and think, he counsels! Think about what has happened to you because of Christ! Think and be amazed!

The book of Romans reeks of Paul's amazement and gives us the earliest attempt to deal with the mystery of Jesus' identity and significance. In Romans, Jesus is presented to us as the Christ. That is, God's Potentate, who alone represents God and speaks authoritatively for him. Historically, the book of Romans has proven to be a live grenade rolling around on the floor of the church sanctuary. It shaped the early church's theology and later caused tectonic shifts in its development as Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation wrestled with it. More recently, Karl Barth, in The Epistle to the Romans, took it on and blew open contemporary theology with the fresh air of Paul's thinking.