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“They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’”
Perplexed. Admittedly, I spend a good deal of my time in that state or condition, confusion being my faithful companion along with bad sinuses and high arches. It can be maddening at times, yet there are places and spaces where being perplexed is not only understandable, but essential. While we chafe against the notion of an insoluble question, the truth of the human condition is that finite minds are never able to fully comprehend or master the infinite. There is no wrong in seeking knowledge and understanding in the wondrous cosmos or in the single subatomic particle. Our error is when we assume we know anything completely or even that we have come close to grasping something fully. There is always more, always so much more.
One consequence of the Enlightenment was to limit our contemplation or consideration to the sphere of the structured, explorable universe, what theologian Charles Taylor called “the imminent frame,” a worldview closed off from transcendence. Such a perspective may allow for the possibility of a Divine spark behind creation, but is resistant to the notion that the transcendent can break through and be active in the immanent frame. Such a view struggles to contemplate words like providence, incarnation, miracle, or resurrection, all of which point to a God who breaks into the immanent frame of our world and remains active in it.
When we profess that Christ is risen, it is not an intellectual achievement, but an act of faith, trusting in a transcendent God who breaks into the immanent frame and acts in ways that may contradict all logic and reason, drawing us into a space called mystery. Mystery can be an uncomfortable, disorienting space because it forces us to live with the tension of insoluble questions. So, uncomfortable theological conservatives expend great energy grasping for tangible scientific validation of their faith through shrouds, relics, and studies verifying the psychological or physiological efficacy of prayer. In their fervor, it is not realized that their faith is transformed, or possibly reduced, into mechanics. The Bible, rather than a living word becomes an owner’s manual for a mechanized soul. Discomfited theological liberals, on the other hand, deal with mystery by actively dismissing it, ignoring it with condescension, or labeling it as irrelevant to the modern mind.
He is not here, but has risen. The resurrection cannot be proven or dismissed through the rumination of our finite minds. Thus, we have no choice but to live with mystery. The Confession of 1967 phrases it well: God’s reconciling act in Jesus Christ is a mystery which the Scriptures describe in various ways … These are expressions of a truth which remains beyond the reach of all theory in the depths of God’s love for humankind. They reveal the gravity, cost, and sure achievement of God’s reconciling work.” Thus, I do not hesitate to say in faith, Christ is risen, he is risen indeed.
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