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Resurrection One peruses the front page of the newspaper, Inquirer, NY Times; it may be “all the
news that’s fit to print,” but it is relentlessly not the “good news.” The
overriding presence of violence and death is a given―across all
cultures, countries, divides. We speak of “donor fatigue” from the
overwhelming requests for aid, many worthy causes, desperate needs. Perhaps
there is a “violence fatigue;” we lose our capacity
for outrage witnessing the endless human capacity for self
destruction. Presence at funerals of friends, a ritual of aging,
confronts us with our own impending death. Life has changed, not ended is the
mantra of funerals. The Resurrection, the most profound leap of faith, bound
to the Incarnation of Jesus, is the essence of our faith. One does wish our
friends, who have gone before us, the cloud of witnesses, weren’t
so silent in their “new life.” Hope needs constant renewal, even a bolstering
of sorts, like a shot of Irish whiskey. At a conference at Villanova University on “Who Is My
Enemy! Religious Hope in a Time of Fear,” I encountered the writings of a
Catholic priest/theologian, James Alison, offering unique insights to the
Resurrection. Alison speaks of God’s “effervescent vivacity, free of any connection
to death. We all have a deficient grasp of God. . . . All of us are marked by
a vision of God that is too bound in by the circumstances, shot through with
death, of human life on earth.” Alison’s writing at
times borders on the mystifying. But that is the
eternal problem when speaking of the divine. Bear with me, there is light at
the end of the tunnel. “Jesus perceives God as utterly without death,
completely free from being involved in the death-bound structures of human
life.” God’s effervescent vivacity, as in “John’s gospel shows how the
central purpose behind what Jesus came to do was precisely to create a faith
in the deathless and purely loving nature of God. . . . Being put to death by
violent men was a creative act that was only possible because Jesus knew
himself that God’s vivacity and love are un-shaded by death, and that his
death can only be understood on our way out of it.” Contrasting with God as abundant life personified in
Jesus, Alison’s vision of original sin is our immersion―going back to
Cain murdering his brother Abel through envy, in the reign of death. He calls
the “great lie” our need for victims, many of whom come to be by our lethal
greed; “the world shores up its security and peace at the expense of victims.”
We have been formed in a culture obsessed with security, our survival and the inevitable punishment of any who threaten
us. There are always victims in need of punishment. One remembers George Bush
when Governor of Texas executing scores of human beings, a scandal to the “secular”
European Union who had long banned this barbaric practice. The “great lie”
encompasses many stories, the savage Native Americans, Cherokees among many,
whom President Andrew Jackson virtually exterminated to facilitate our move
West; the tragic history of African Americans; the demon Saddam destined for
death, along with tens of thousands innocents. Alison envisions “Jesus’ Resurrection” making possible
the “construction of real human stories that are creatively able to undo the
monotonous human story structured by grasping desire and murderous exclusion.”
Jesus’ command “that we love one another as I have loved you” gives us a way
out, a new way of being human. “It needed to be possible that other people besides
Jesus himself could come to the same perception and understanding of God as
he. In this way alone could a new way of being human start to be created.” There were witnesses, Peter
and the others, transformed. Peter in Acts vs. the Gospel is a new creation. There is a touching story of Peter and five of his
cohorts, after Jesus’ death, in the last chapter of John’s Gospel. Peter has
returned to what he knows best, before meeting Jesus; “I’m going fishing.”
They fished to no avail and then realized Jesus was on the shore with a
charcoal fire preparing them breakfast. Peter leaps out of the boat and swims
ashore; “the other disciples came in on the boat.” The
impetuous Peter, filled with the broken humanity we all can identify with, is
asked three times by Jesus, “Simon Peter, Do you love me?” Yes! The
past is forgiven and the transformation begins, a
more courageous Peter, a different vision. Alison speaks to our inheriting the legacy, reminding
us that not only does God love us, he likes us; being worthy is a non issue. “I no longer call you
servants, but friends.” The story of Phil Berrigan
comes to mind to graphically illustrate a new way of
being. Phil was a warrior on the field of battle in WWII, highly decorated
for his courage and fearlessness in attacking the enemy Germans, heavily
involved in the killing fields of war. As always with Phil, he gave his all
to making war. The risen Phil literally poured himself out as an
oblation for an end to war and killing. He spent 11 years in jail, away from
beloved wife and children, to say no to the blasphemy of napalming children
and nuclear weapons. Phil’s imagination envisioned a new way of being human
at a perilous cost. There are countless other stories of heroes, celebrated
and anonymous. To move beyond the fear of death, perhaps we can begin to
understand the Resurrection. Rather than paraphrase Alison, better to quote
him.
Lastly, Alison warns us of our stultified imaginations
that shrink the landscape of our vision and hope.
Gandhian, if you will! Joe
Bradley
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