“If for this life only,” St. Paul writes, “we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.”
Many Christians heard that verse yesterday, on Easter Day. It comes from Paul’s great fifteenth chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians, his extended, full-throated defense of a robust embrace of resurrection, of Easter.
In the excerpt appointed for yesterday’s celebration (15:19-26), Paul seems to insist that the great “Alleluia” of Easter morning must have consequences for more than this present life alone; the risen Christ leads us beyond the grave into new life with God.
I give my heart, with Paul, to that very hope. And yet, and still…perhaps now more than ever the flip side of that coin demands equal attention: if only for the “next life” we trust in Easter’s hope, we have ceded God’s precious Earth to the cruel and torturous forces of death. As in the Incarnation of God’s Word in Jesus, so also the resurrection of Jesus from the dead: this is no religious escape hatch from earthly concerns but the deepest possible union of Heaven and Earth; the Church ought to live like this is actually true.
Just like every compelling word and concept, the great “Alleluia” of Easter comes with important context, especially when we read Luke’s account of the Gospel (24:1-12). Writing in an occupied province of the Roman Empire, Luke constantly urges his readers to note the contrast between imperial power and the power of God. The Easter “Alleluia” resounds with its clearest tones when proclaimed with a brave resistance to Empire.
Biblical scholar Walter Wink offered a helpful framework for what it means to speak of “imperial power,” and especially as a caution against supposing that such power remains consigned to ancient history; imperial power always remains a present possibility, and for what Wink calls the “domination system.”
Whenever a society creates a network of power characterized by unjust economic relations, oppressive political relations, biased race relations, and patriarchal gender relations, and then uses violence to maintain this network, that’s a “domination system.”
The first-century Roman Empire was a domination system, so was the Babylonian Empire before that; particular empires come and go, but the system lingers—even today, even in our own backyard.
Consider how Wink might help us read that passage from St. Paul. The risen Jesus, Paul says, is the first fruits of an unimaginable harvest. On that Great Day, the risen Christ will defeat “every ruler and every authority and power”—that’s the cue for Wink, who would remind us that Paul would surely have in mind the imperial principalities of the domination system that rob so many of abundant life.
Paul goes on to imagine that Great Day when even death itself is among the principalities defeated by Christ. But just as our joyful “Alleluia” deserves some textured context, so does that word death, which can sound a bit abstract in tidy religious spaces; it also rarely means just one kind of thing, especially these days when death comes in so many forms.
We see it in the destruction of whole ecosystems that give life, the clear-cutting of old-growth forests, and intolerable extinction of countless species, both plant and animal. We hear it in anguished cries from women with problem pregnancies who are heartlessly refused lifesaving medical intervention; we must acknowledge it in the short-sighted defunding of HIV prevention programs and the discontinued distribution of AIDS drugs around the world—a decision that has already killed people; and death lurks around even the bureaucratic cruelty in erasing—quite literally—transgender people from public policies and government websites.
That’s a short list of death’s many guises in today’s world, and we Christians must realize that this list has nothing to do with partisan politics. It makes no difference whether we align ourselves with Republicans or Democrats or Independents, as followers of the risen Christ, as followers of the Lord of Life, Christians cannot stand idly by while public policies rend the very fabric of our ecological existence and political postures shred the very basis of the common good.
We may not be able to change the whole wide world, but we can and we must practice resurrection right here, and right now—the empty tomb compels us and the great “Alleluia” equips us.
I love that notion of “practicing resurrection” right here and now. I first heard it from my friend and ministry colleague Jim Mitulski, who always devotes the season of Lent to the various ways we can “practice resurrection,” to make Easter matter in a world of violence and death—and we do that by the way we live, now.
When first-century imperial religion did its worst and killed Jesus, God refused to give Empire the final word. And we must stand as bold witnesses to God’s own Yes to life. No matter the cost, we must “practice resurrection” today.
This is why Easter is not only the unswerving confidence for that Great Day still to come—and it will come!—but also the courage to live in the light of that Great Day now.
I believe Luke was so eager to inspire this courage that he entrusted the news of Easter to women. He makes sure to name them: Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James. These and others were among the women who had been with Jesus in Galilee, Luke says. By some accounts, these women supported Jesus in many ways, making that first-century Jesus movement possible.
These women were the last ones at the cross, and the first ones at the empty tomb.
When men are the measure of what matters, when only men can give testimony that counts in courts of law, and when men own other living beings as property, that’s when God reveals to women a path to new life.
Let us not overlook this crucial point: Luke entrusts the message of Easter to women in the midst of a patriarchal society. There’s not one bit of subtlety about this: the women share the news, and it was men, Luke says, and disciples of Jesus no less, who thought this was just an “idle tale” (Lk. 24:11).
When men are the measure of what matters, when only men can give testimony that counts in courts of law, and when men own other living beings as property, that’s when God reveals to women a path to new life.
The great Easter Alleluia invites us to walk that path and to practice resurrection; to live as friends in a community of equals; to extend a bold hospitality to everyone, no exceptions; to strive for justice and peace among all people; and to respect the dignity of every living being—just as we promise to do in the Baptismal vows we make.
Easter points to that great dawn over the horizon, beyond which we cannot presently see; in its dawning light, we must live as an Easter people now.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
