Easter, the Cross, and Resurrection

I am not a big fan of Easter. I am sorry. But when the Son of God is raised from the dead, I want more than fanfare. I want the lame to walk, the hungry filled, the blind to see. I want the powers of this age to become nothing and the poor to be empowered. I want swords made into plowshares. I want orphans to find their families. I want the world to be healed.
wpid-MemlingResurrection-2015-04-4-11-18.jpgThere he is. The Lord of the Universe is risen; but notice how the guards are oblivious to his rising. Rome does not care. Its soldiers do not care. They will continue their military campaigns on the Empire’s northern and western borderlands. The women are there. They see him. But the Apostles? Well, they have all gone home. We have gone home. The Kingdom is at hand. Where? Christ is risen! But the world is unmoved and unchanged.

Easter makes me feel cheated. But could it be that I have missed the point? What does the world look like after the King of Glory rises? What kind of a King is this anyway?

There are some — whether post- or pre-millennialists, it doesn’t matter — who have parried this question by pointing (and pointing, and pointing, and pointing . . .) to the future. God is building the Kingdom through us. Really? Or, God will come like a thief in the night and — zap, bang, pow — all will be made new. Like Captain America. Like Desert Storm. And everyone will be filled with shock and awe. Really?

But, really, what kind of a King is this? What should I expect upon his resurrection from the dead?

wpid-375px-Thetriumphofdeath-2015-04-4-11-18.jpgThere is a painting attributed to Pieter Bruegel the Elder dated some time around 1562. Its title in English is simply “Triumph of Death.” It depicts the world as it is after the resurrection, after Easter. Death reigns. It still reigns.

Therefore this Easter I am focusing my attention on First Corinthians 1-2, on a set of propositions, observations, attributed (I believe rightly) to Saint Paul that describe a very different resurrection than the erect, victorious Christ emerging from the tomb.

 

 

 

Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, in order that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” . . . Yet among the mature we do speak wisdom, though it is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to perish. But we speak God’s wisdom, secret and hidden, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this; for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory (I Co 1:26-31; 2:6-8).

The Gospel of Victory over Death? The Gospel of martial conflict and battle, of  power and force and might? Go ahead. See what that does for you. This Easter I am taking my place alongside those who by human standards are not wise, not powerful, not of noble birth. I am taking my place alongside the foolish, the weak, and the despised. Not because I believe that God wants us all to end up that way, but because it is these whom God had has chosen in order to bring to nothing the wise, powerful, and well-placed persons of the present age.

Paul is wrong, however. It is not the Cross that the rulers of this age don’t get. It is the resurrection. The Cross they know all too well. They built it. And every day they slap body after body after body up on that Cross because they believe that this illustrates their power, their superiority, their wisdom. Power is not God’s wisdom. God’s wisdom is secret and hidden. None of the rulers of this age understand it; otherwise they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.

So, when I see so-called Christians strutting about praising the weapons and tools and means of this present age, waging war against working families, waging war against the poor and powerless, when I look at Bruegel’s “Triumph of Death,” I remind myself that the kind of Easter I am celebrating differs not simply in degree, but in kind, from the Easter that they — sleeping soldiers all — will celebrate tomorrow. Christ’s victory over death looks different than the victory I wanted. But there it is.