How Real Was the Resurrection, Really?

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I’m starting to write this on the Roman Easter Sunday. I’ve been thinking about this whole Lent thing, with its happy ending, which we love. But if we’re grownups, do we need all the Easter hoopla? I love the music, but still…

Christians, whether scholars and otherwise, will probably rise to attack me for apostasy, but really: Do we actually revere or even worship Jesus because he rose from the dead? If that literally happened, however briefly, I must confess that OK, it’s amazing, but it doesn’t change my faith.

Christians may rush in to say the physical Resurrection validates Christianity, that this religion is hollow and meaningless if Jesus didn’t rise again. But does it? Is it? I’m starting to see the week of Palm Sunday through Good Friday as a mind blowing series of events that works just fine to build a religion on. Leave Jesus on the cross, as the Catholics do, and end the story there. Remember what he taught, what he did, and what he risked and ultimately sacrificed.  Wow, what an example. Very few of us follow him that far, but there he is, the prize for our eyes, leaving us with a “new” commandment: to love each other.

But maybe we need the happy ending. Some say that’s the premise of Christianity, and the whole religion falls apart without it. Maybe they fall apart without it. Maybe they also need the later-tacked-on ending of the Jonah adventure, because they can’t see the point of the story without the reassurance of Jonah’s physical “resurrection.” And they need to see and feel that Jesus is dead only temporarily.

We’re talking about a classic model story here. The Hero, hailed as mighty, famous for legendary deeds, and for helping the people who need it most, goes through a time of extreme difficulty and nearly dies or appears to die. But wait, there’s more! Hero returns, along with happily-ever-after, thanks to deus ex machina, or just Deus. As it’s retold and rewritten, the story accumulates vivid detail, right down to secret conversations. And we love it. The child in us needs a happy ending, or we might be afraid to get up in the morning.

We hate the opposite of a happy ending, such as when a much-loved relative, pet, or friend dies. We children of all ages don’t just grieve; we’re often horrified, because death is so…final. But death is a fact of life, and death seems to be the fact of life least taught and most poorly learned. There’s no magical happy ending, unless we who are left make it happen by living on, carrying their spirit in strength and faith, thus honoring the memory of the deceased.

Well, here’s the horrible, cruel death of Jesus. Niggling details aside, we can most likely accept the life and execution of a man named Yeshua bar Yusef as fact. He was evidently a charismatic spiritual genius. But let’s remember that just as with news today, the story of Jesus was passed orally at first, with some added details that we throw in to enliven any story, and then, later, was written down by several people, working pretty much independently. The written versions were never published or photocopied, of course. Through many decades of hand copying and re-copying, each rewriter would have adjusted and invented details sincerely meant to enhance the story. This was standard practice. Some epistles in the New Testament weren’t even written by the name in the title. Standard practice again.

So today, we have an astounding story, originally by four witnesses, of a man who died after beating, stabbing, and torture on one of the cruelest, slowest, and most demeaning execution methods ever invented. Then, the story tells us, he was able to walk away the next day and travel, chat, and even enjoy a meal before disappearing for good. It’s a thrilling, inspiring story. Not only that, but today, the world power known as the Roman Empire is gone. But Jesus, not Caesar, lives on in us. I love that.

About those post-mortem days. We’re used to trusting writers not to fabricate events but to report them dispassionately, exactly as they occurred, as if we were reading a report from Reuters. Not so with Bible stuff. Here, we can trust only that the writer is telling what he (usually he, rarely she) thinks is a very important story. And usually, it is important, even for us, all these centuries later.

But to tell the story effectively, no good writer is going to leave the bare bones alone: He’s going to enhance the story to make it more accessible, meaningful, easier to understand, and exciting to his readers. Remember, he’s writing by hand, not running off copies, so if anything needs tweaking, he can easily do it on the fly. Besides, who’s to know? The original characters are often dead, and there’s no copyright law to worry about.

So today, we have a shelf full of Jesus stories in various forms and styles. Early church fathers weeded them out with very respectable skill and left us with four. Others, such as The Gospel of Thomas, The Gospel of Bartholomew, The Gospel of Mary, The Gospel of Judas, and several more, didn’t make the cut.

Naturally, the four Jesus stories in today’s Christian Bible don’t agree on all the details. Did Jesus deliver his most famous sermon on a so-called mountain, or on a plain? And how many “beatitudes” were in that sermon, anyway? Who cares? We must learn to relax, step back from literal thinking, and hunt for the deep message. It’s in there, finally appearing explicitly in the story of the Last Supper: Love one another. That’s the bottom line, a three-word summary of the Golden Rule. The Abrahamic Prime Directive. Love each other. Two word version? Be kind. Any religion with any legs comes down to this.

And all four of these stories tell, with varying details, of a resurrection. The Resurrection, if you please. Capital R. Obviously a big deal. But I have trouble with this part of the story being literally true. The Bible has plenty of stuff that’s not literally true, such as two creation myths — yes, myths; that word doesn’t necessarily imply falsehood — two creation myths that don’t agree. But they’re both profoundly true in the way only fiction can tell Truth. Consider Winnie the Pooh. Fiction, but in its way, one of the truest stories ever. Some scholars tell us that the story of Samson was actually a fictional work in the first place. OK, it works to thrill and lift the spirits as well as any other superhero story does.

So let’s get to it: How true is the Resurrection? I’d say, very true. Absolutely true. But maybe not literal fact. No, much better than that. Let me set this up.

We make God real. That makes me think of The Velveteen Rabbit, another book about Truth, but moving on. We make God real, by loving God. Let’s stipulate that God has no gender, no body, no physical existence at all except in us. To quote from The Color Purple, a religious book in the very best way (unlike the movie), we don’t go to church to find God, we go to church to share the God we brought in with us. Amen? Amen. God is our spirit, the spirit that works in us, if we let it. Each of us carries a share of God, and when we combine them, they become more than the sum of each of our spirits. GOD in all caps.

But when Jesus was executed, the disciples lost their spirit and felt utterly lost. Like many of us, they had resisted seeing all the signs of looming disaster during those final days. They were so unprepared. Doesn’t that sound like us? So when Jesus died, they did, too, in spirit. The Twelve Apostles, the ones closest to their Prophet, simply shut down, their spirits broken.

Typically, the only disciples with the strength to deal with such a situation were women. Death was no stranger to them. Women lost husbands in war, children to disease, babies in childbirth and infancy, and had to deal with it up close and personal. While Jesus’s life leaked out of him, we’re told that the friends who stayed near the cross were women. So guess who got up the next day to go to the cemetery and do what needed to be done. And. They. Had. A. Stroke. Of. Genius.

Here’s where the story may have picked up the biggest package of physical details to tell a spiritual story, and I love the way it works.

The announcement, “He is not here!” could have been true in two ways: The body was indeed missing, or these women were the first with the presence of mind to put it all together. By now, you can guess I’m going with option two. The radical realization of these women, supposedly three of them (a heavily symbolic number), was to recognize that they were looking for Jesus in the wrong place! That he was alive! And in them! And their job was to spread the Good News.

They told the other disciples, who had been sitting numb, dumb, and defeated, what they had figured out, way ahead of the rest of them, that Jesus was as alive as if he were standing there, with the nail holes and spear wound and telling them all to get on with it.

Once this Great Truth sank in, the disciples roused and shared this new reality with each other: He is alive, among us; he is alive, in us. Suddenly, they had a new way of looking at life and the world. The whole world, and life, looked different. They began to see Jesus even in strangers on the road, as we do today, if we look.

I began these thoughts in a very skeptical frame of mind. Imagine my surprise at coming out here, on the Eastern Orthodox Good Friday, that the Resurrection is a fact, but not in the magical thinking way we see on the page.  And although I’ve learned I’m not the first to notice this, imagine my surprise at stumbling over a startling possibility about the beginning of Christianity: that thanks to a few smart women, a new religion was born. I like the bookends here: Jesus was born to a young woman named Mary, and another Mary may have announced his rebirth in us. He has risen. He has risen, indeed. Happy Easter.



Copyright 2019 James L. Evans

The Historical Jesus

I’ve seen many people astonished at the news that Jesus was a real guy. Historical. Actually lived. Yes, we have enough information outside of the Bible to say this with certainty.

Of course,  history that far back was written differently. The author could assume a name, as probably happened in all or parts of some biblical books. For instance, we can’t swear that the apostle John wrote John’s gospel and apocalypse, or that Paul wrote all the letters bearing his name. And details often got added, redacted, or altered by the writer or copyist.

But they and we can conclude that somebody named Yeshua bar Yusef, whom we call Jesus today, was from or at least grew up in Nazareth. The Bethlehem story might have been added to fit prophesies; it’s hard to know. He was probably born a bit earlier than the beginning of the Christian calendar and was tortured and executed in his thirties by the Roman occupiers.

What did he look like? Certainly not much like the handsome, pious, white guy in zillions of paintings. That pic on this site’s first page is one of those. Consider where he was from: Asia, not Europe. Yes, the so-called Middle East is western Asia. White Americans obsess about skin color, and probably have a tough time with an accurate portrayal of Jesus with brown or olive skin, black beard, probably kinky or very curly hair, who today would never make it through security, because he would look so much like an Arab terrorist. He was a Palestinian, after all.

And forget those layers of flowing white robes. Before bathrooms and laundries, people looked and smelled dusty and sweaty. A common man’s whole wardrobe was often a long garment that looked like an old fashioned nightgown, in off-white, darkened with use to desert beige with stains, and maybe a loosely wrapped top layer of the same material. Add sandals, and Average Joe was dressed for all occasions.

We don’t know much about Jesus’s life before the last few years, when he emerged from obscurity as one of the  prophets then wandering the province. We can be fairly sure he was well educated, considering his political situation. Apparently, he was literate, and he certainly knew his Torah, Prophets, and Wisdom scriptures, and he could argue like a lawyer.

But this sketchy looking little guy stood out from the competition, likely because he was charismatic, educated, and brilliant. As has happened with other gifted prophets, his listeners remembered, repeated, and finally wrote down striking things he said and did. The Gospel of Thomas is simply a collection of quotations credited to Jesus. Other gospels include versions of his actions, which were often seen as miraculous.

The end of his life got a lot of attention. Jesus was literally consumed by his message, that we should love each other, redistribute our wealth to take care of the weak and poor, and fear nothing, thanks to the kingdom of God inside each of us. This sounded seditious and socialist to the government, which arrested him and intended to make him an example by crucifixion, a slow, sadistic form of execution used by the Romans to strike fear into the populace.

This crucifixion would have had its desired effect if Jesus had tried to escape or bargain, or if he had broken down and made a false confession. As with waterboarding, crucifixion will make you say anything. But by all accounts, Jesus backed up what he’d been preaching by taking it all the way. That’s what got attention. He became an example, all right, but the government’s plan completely backfired.  Today, the Roman Empire is long gone, and the words and example of Jesus are still alive.

Jews or The Jews?

Jews or The Jews?

Assigning blame for the Crucifixion

In the trial of Jesus, Pilate insists to “the Jews” that he can’t make a case against the defendant.  No case, no conviction.

Not for lack of trying, I’m sure.  Imagine Pilate’s position.  As governor of this backwater province, he finds that it’s something of a crossroads.  New ideas keep sprouting, and intellectual ferment is as dangerous to empire then as it today.

To maintain power and keep his job, Pontius Pilate needs more than a garrison of Roman troops.  He also needs a network of nabobs, influential men who in turn need him, so their pet projects can proceed with minimum red tape.  Charismatics who stir up the masses and empower the poor present a serious threat.  They must be dealt with quickly and efficiently.

Being the doctors, lawyers, and temple chiefs, the high priests love power, and, like their counterparts today, often enjoy mutually beneficial arrangements with the government.  Clearly identified in the text as the chief priests, these are “the Jews” in the crowd.  They love being close to power, and they play their part perfectly.

Pilate probably fears that convicting Jesus might piss off the masses enough to start a revolution, which would get him reassigned to someplace cold and damp.  So, like a U.S. senator voting for campaign finance reform only so he can say he did, Pilate proclaims Jesus’s innocence, knowing the sycophant brigade will conveniently shut him down, allowing him to publicly wash his hands of responsibility, while disposing of his Jew problem.

Today, some unthinking Christians blame the Jews for killing Jesus.  Yes, Jews called for his execution, and Pilate cynically delivered.  But blaming the Jews is like blaming the Catholics for the canonization of a Nazi-collaborator pope, or the Fundamentalists for Timothy McVeigh and Osama bin Laden.  The Christ-killing Jews were political insiders, with their cronies, who had fully convinced themselves of their rightness.  But the run-of-the-mill Jews were Jesus fans, therefore big threats to the religious and political power elite.

So the Crucifixion looked like a big win for both power groups. What could possibly go wrong?

So who really killed Jesus?  Neocons of the day.