Searching for God # 93
Is there some ‘energy’ that nudges one’s thoughts, instincts, intuition and curiosity to dig into one of the most gordion of knots of Christian theology on St. Patrick’s Day 2026, The Resurrection?
Sure to
tell, historians have documented how the Irish preserved civilization in and through
their monks transcribing volumes in candle-light as an integral part of their discipline.
That’s a metaphor for resurrection, isn’t it?
Every
traditional Irish folk-song and dance brings new hope and energy to all who
perform and all who listen and watch.
Surely,
James Joyce, dependent as he was for much of his life on alcohol, contributed
new life to Western literary cannon through his Dubliners, Portrait of the
Artist as a Young Man and his epic, Ulysses.
The Titanic
was supposed to be the first ‘unsinkable’ ocean vessel in history, and like
Icarus, it sank on its own hubris.
Irish wakes
are sometimes interpreted as a living cycle, in which stories and songs serve
as a form of resurrection of the deceased’s person and memory and life.
There really
is an Anglican Church of the Resurrection in
Blarney, County Cork, dedicated to the Resurrection of Jesus.
On a
personal, non-scholarly note, this scribe has for decades adopted something of
an ambivalent approach to the subject of the Resurrection. On the one hand, I
have consistently intuited that ‘new life’ in all of its multiple iterations
lies at the heart or core of nature, of the imagination, of the unspoken and
imagined fantasies and dreams and ambitions of each one of us. These perceptions,
attitudes, intuitions and even ‘hopes and aspirations ‘seemed’ to be grounded
in the earth, the water, the sky and the hopes and aspirations of all mankind,
in every historic epoch. And my ‘take’
was never tied to or dependent on a religious conviction, nor a cognitively held
piece of historic data. Easter Sunday services, whether at sunrise on an
adjacent hill, or within a sanctuary, seemed ‘larger than life’ and somehow ‘enhanced’
out of the ordinary, especially to my pre-adult sensibilities and naivety.
To a field
education prof in seminary who counselled, “The question, ‘Is it life giving?’
has served as my criterion for making many of my life decisions, I silently and
repeatedly added, “And that question concurs with everything I hold dear about
God and theology, including the Resurrection.”
Rising from
death and the Crucifixion into New Life, as the Sunday school teachers tried to
explain the Christian ‘story’ as their ‘belief’ never failed to leave me
wondering, ‘What does it mean ‘to believe’? Does it mean that ‘I believe the
events of both the Crucifixion and the Resurrection actually, literally,
historically really happened?’ Does it mean something different, such as, ‘God’s
message and story are all about loving and forgiving everyone in our darkest
moments and through grace lifting us up out of our despond, despair, shame, guilt
and worthlessness’? Or is there something about a metaphoric ‘dying’ of my sinful
will that cannot resist temptation in order to come to a place of ‘acceptance’
of Jesus Christ, Resurrected, as my personal Saviour, in which state, and through
His grace, I will be more enabled to resist the temptations of things like
carnal lust?
Underlying
even the most prosaic of these questions is the notion of new life following some
‘form’ of death, with the ultimate meaning and purpose of that symbol, from a
literal, fundamental Christian pulpit and Sunday School classes, an afterlife
in Heaven, promised to the ‘saved.’ And, of course, in the binary form of this
theology, the alternative is the promise of an eternal life in Hell, of fire,
or ice or indifference, yet characterized by punishment for those who are not
saved.
All or at
least most of these ‘speculations’ have been gurgling around in my
consciousness, and undoubtedly in my unconscious as well for nigh onto 8
decades. More recently, while rummaging through some more recent scholarship, I
stumbled upon a title, from an author named James Alison, ‘The Joy of Being
Wrong,’ to which I was instantly drawn. Having considered myself the ‘archetype
of being wrong,’ as a sinner, and one cast as ‘no good’ from my family of
origin, and one who seemed to have a ‘nack’ of self-sabotaging if the least likely
opportunity surfaced, I wondered whether Alison had anything to say that might
be enlightening.
I found
these words:
The
resurrection of Jesus was not a miraculous event within a pre-existing
framework of understand of God, but the event by which God recast the possibility
of human understanding of God. For this to happen God simultaneously made use
of and blew apart the understanding of God that had developed over the centuries
among the Jewish people. God did this in the person of Jesus, through his life
and teaching, leading up to and including his death. There is a first step to
this recasting of God through the resurrection of the crucified Jesus, and this
is the demonstration that death itself is a matter of indifference to God. Jesus
had already taught exactly this in his answer to the Sadducees in Mark 12:18-27,
a teaching which must have seemed mysterious at the time because it showed that
in Jesus’ perception of God, as opposed to that of his interlocutors, there was
already before Jesus’ death, a clear awareness that an understanding structured
by death cannot begin to speak adequately about God….This marks a decisive
change in the understanding of God, one which had been a long time in the making,
since if God ahs nothing to do with death, if God is indifferent to death, then
our representations of God, all of which are marked by a human culture in which
death appears as, at the very least, inevitable, are wrong, as Jesus remarked
to the Sadducees: ‘You are greatly mistaken.’ The resurrection of Jesus, at the
same time as it showed the unimagined strength of divine love for a particular
human being and therefore revealed the loving proximity of God, also marked a
final and definitive sundering of God from any human representational capacity. (Alison op. cit. p.115-116)
Alison continues:
It is
not only that our representation of God is contrary to the understanding of God
which God wishes to make known. That is to say that the death of this man Jesus
showed that death is not merely a biological reality, but it is also a sinful
reality. To put it another way, it is
not just that death is a human reality and not a divine one, but as a human
reality it is a sinful reality. God, in raising Jesus, was not merely showing
that death has no power over him, but also revealing that the putting to death
of Jesus showed humans as actively involved in death. In human reality, death and
sin are intertwined: the necessity of human death is itself a necessity born of
sin. In us, death is not merely a passive reality but an active one, not
something we merely receive but one we deal out….The third step in the
recasting of God and the recasting of sin is that God raised up this man who
had been killed in this way for us. The victim of human iniquity was raised up
as forgiveness; in fact the resurrection was the raising up of the victim as
forgiveness. This it was which permitted the recasting of God as love. It was
not just that God loved his son and so raised him up, but that the giving of
the son and his raising up revealed God as love for us….If the third step
reveals God as forgiving us (and the presence of the crucified and risen victim
was exactly this revelation), then it also simultaneously reveals that death is
not only a human reality, and one inflicted by sin, but that the human reality
of death itself is capable of being forgiven…..That is to say, the forgiveness
which flows from the resurrection affects not only such acts as we may have carried
out, but, much more importantly, what we had hitherto imagined to be our very
natures. If death is something that can be forgiven us, we were not only wrong
about God, but we were fundamentally wrong about ourselves. (Ibid, p.117-118)
Cutting
through some obvious and highly noxious and nefarious stereotypes that have ‘polluted’
and ‘infected’ the ethos, the air, the arguments about and the fears and demons
that have taken up residence in the Christian consciousness for centuries,
Alison, offers a challenging perspective and insight into a very unique
exegesis of sin, death and resurrection.
Instead of
separating God from man, Alison separates God from death, as a human reality and
removes both the horror, terror, fear and even the culpability, if needed.
There is a risk that Alison might be considered to be playing God, although his
analysis seems securely grounded in his reading of scripture. The conclusion
that Jesus was a willing sacrificial victim to the unjust violence by which he
was victimized, in favour of relationality, as Alison concludes, shines as a
spiritual, religious, moral and ethical beacon for the ‘inner rescuer’ to which
such exegesis speaks.
Tolstoy, in
his ‘The Kingdom of God is Within You,’ would remind us that it is in and through
our non-violent opposition to evil (consciousness of which is innately available
to everyone) with force, the both underlies and emphasizes a position which
Alison may or may not be consciously echoing all these decades later.
The daily menu
of humans inflicting death on innocent children, men and women, unjustly, unjustifiably,
illegally, immorally, unethically, and unacceptably, while we all seem and feel
powerless to bring about its cessation, offers a unique historic moment in which,
in this Lent of 2026. We are mere weeks away from another Christian celebration
of the liturgies and rituals of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Sunday and both our
having been steeped, like luke-warm (and worn) tea in the traditional ‘version’
of this season. Doubtless, our human innate search for ‘new life’ as that
phrase applies to each of us individually, finds opportunity to revisit a
thesis like the one James Alison offers.
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