By Molly Marshall
In this fresh season of the empty tomb, Eastertide, I am thinking about a more comprehensive understanding of resurrection.
Of course we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus as the “first fruits of them that slept” (1 Corinthians 15:20). Whereas resurrection had long been debated between Sadducees and Pharisees, it took a concrete case — Jesus the Christ — to move the discourse from theoretical to faithful interpretation. Baptist theologian William Hendricks remarked that resurrection was “the first new thing since creation.”
Rumblings about resurrection began during the Maccabean War as faithful sons of Israel died for the sake of the covenant people. Martyred by their resistance to Seleucid oppression, would God not raise them up? At the last day, perhaps, so the conventional wisdom went. Yet, when the Spirit stirred Jesus back to life, the “last day” had broken into the middle of history and compelled a new theology of death to life.
When we are buried with Christ in Christian baptism, we are plunged into his resurrection life. Clothed with Christ, we participate in his rising and enter the season of “making all things new.” This is no solitary venture, for not only are we incorporated into Christ, but we are members of his body, joined to all who are signed by his death and life.
We practice resurrection (to borrow Wendell Berry’s phrase) as we allow the resurrection of Jesus to set the interpretive framework for our lives. What has bound us — fear of death, fear of abandonment, fear of meaninglessness — is loosed, and we set out joyously like Bunyan’s Christian when his burden “began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the Sepulchre, where it fell in.”
Resurrection is God’s work; it is not something by sheer dint of effort that we accomplish. Rather, the same mighty power that raised Christ Jesus from the dead gives us life now — and later. When we practice resurrection, “we continuously enter into what is more than we are,” in the words of Eugene Peterson.
What does it mean to live as resurrected? It is the root question of our identity, and we will spend our lives learning its depth and breadth. At the least, it means to live fully and contribute to the flourishing of all life.
This past Saturday we celebrated commencement at my school, and our speaker encouraged graduates to “set out in the season of the empty tomb,” remembering that Jesus always accompanies them. It was a fitting exhortation to those wearied by preparation, papers, and praxis, those who well know that “salvation is by grace, but graduation is by works!” We had a special recognition after the conferring of degrees, which reminded us that the whole groaning creation practices resurrection.
For the past three semesters a black lab named Encore has attended seminary alongside the professor who nurtures service dogs. Socialized by attending class, chapel and faculty meetings (near perfect attendance), it was only right that he be awarded a “Master of Dogmatics” degree. In addition to adding a little levity to a protracted program, this recognition acknowledged that our community had helped prepare Encore for irreplaceable service — service that will enhance someone’s life considerably.
Resurrection is God’s best artistry, drawing new life from death and granting fulfillment of all the promise inscribed in creation.
The resurrection of Jesus shows God’s intended pattern: self-giving love overcomes all that would threaten to overcome us in life and death. The dynamism of resurrection throbs throughout creation, through Christ’s living presence in the power of the Spirit.
Living as resurrected draws us into God’s great redemptive project, and we demonstrate that nothing can separate us from the love of God — now or eternally. Rising with Christ, we participate in God’s trinitarian history, fashioning a new heaven and a new earth.