Believe It Or Not
I think sometimes of a conversation in the mid-1970s that helped push me toward a decision when I was hearing the call to Christian faith, but was still undecided as to what it meant and what I would do about it. My friend was an intelligent and educated Christian (and probably still is, though I haven’t seen her for many years), and I was struggling with the question of whether it was really possible to believe in such a stupendous miracle as the Resurrection. I had for some time been attracted to Christianity as a sort of philosophy of life and as the shaper of our cultural world, but suffered from the naturalist and materialist prejudices of modern culture. It might be nice to believe such things, I thought, but it seemed impossible.
What I recall of the conversation is actually only one exchange. I looked her in the eye and said “Do you really believe he rose from the dead?” And I remember vividly the look on her face. She didn’t back down at all, she didn’t look down or away and fumble for words, she didn’t speak evasively. But she looked almost trapped, like a witness who would rather not answer a lawyer’s question but is under oath and unwilling to commit perjury. And her answer was simple: “Yes.”
She seemed to be “confessing” Christ in the way we use the word today, revealing something which would get her into trouble or embarrass her. This exchange was not a decisive moment, but it was influential: so, I thought, yes, people who are clearly not crazy or stupid or lying do truly believe that this thing really happened; it was not a myth or a symbol or a metaphor; it happened, in this world, just as a sunset is happening as I write these words.
The main argument against the Resurrection is a dogmatic assertion: such things simply cannot happen, therefore it did not happen, and that’s all there is to it. But the historical arguments, considered fairly, are inconclusive.
These arguments usually insist on disqualifying most of the very specific and detailed historical evidence which we call the New Testament. It’s said that this testimony doesn’t count, because it was written by Christians—in other words, it must be doubted because the people who wrote it down believed it. To state the objection that way is to answer it. Naturally only the people who believed it wrote it down; naturally their lives were changed; naturally their record became the scripture of the new religion. What greater historical evidence in favor of the belief could conceivably be produced than the testimony of eye-witnesses?
Or it’s said that the Resurrection is a myth, a story that grew in the telling over time, until respect and love for a man and his teachings produced a fanciful story of his supernatural deeds. The problem with this is that so little time actually passed between the events and the writing of them. It’s a commonly held view that the first epistles of Paul were written roughly twenty to thirty years after the Crucifixion, the synoptic Gospels within the next decade or two. I graduated from high school over forty years ago, but I don’t have any trouble recalling significant events from the time. I may not be correct about all the details, but I believe I remember the essentials well enough.
I remember, for instance, that I was elected president of the Science Club in my senior year. It would be pretty easy to prove that. If I were to claim I was elected because an angel had appeared at a meeting and told the members that God had chosen me, it would be easy to find people to say that no such thing ever happened. If, on the other hand, the people who were there supported my story, it would be harder to deny. (If I remember correctly, I was elected because the outgoing president wanted me to be, and no one objected very strongly.)
And then there’s the historical-critical approach, or its abuse, which involves accepting parts of the New Testament and rejecting others for reasons which often seem arbitrary and sometimes tautological exercises in prejudice, as in the case of the notorious Jesus Seminar.
Considered with an open mind, belief in the Resurrection is plausible because it is supported by some persuasive evidence. It remains, though, dependent on the acceptance of someone else’s testimony, and since the event is so strange and so contrary to the way the world normally works, one can also find plausible reasons to deny it.
There is no easy way out; one simply has to choose. That act of choosing is mysterious, but it often includes the desire to believe, or not to believe. One person wishes to believe, and does; another would like to believe, but is afraid to—afraid of disappointment, afraid of being a fool. One person wishes not to believe, and does not; another wishes not to believe, but cannot utterly rid himself of faith. The relationship of desire, will, and grace is obscure even, or especially, to the one in whom they are operating.
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