Epiphany 6
February 16, 2025
William G. Carter
Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ—whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.
But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died.
I’m sure somebody is wondering why we are singing Easter hymns today. It’s the middle of February. Easter won’t come until the end of April. That’s a long time away.
It is not a novelty, like Christmas in July. We’ve done that in our summer hymn sings. We pull out the carols that we sing only once a year. In the hottest month of summer, we dream of a White Christmas and a Silent Night. We remember the little town of Bethlehem and listen for the angels to sing.
But here, in winter that has been way too white, we sing of resurrection. Why do you suppose that is?
It could be because the schedule of scripture lessons brings us to this point. We are working through Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth. He addresses many of that congregation’s concerns. He saves the biggest concern for last – the resurrection. It’s big enough to require two sermons out of me, and it really serves four. To which I’ll add, “Easter’s coming.” But why now?
Perhaps it is because we worship on Sunday mornings. This is the first day of the Jewish week, the eighth day of new creation. Jesus was raised from the dead on a Sunday morning. Ever since the followers of Christ altered their worship schedule from Friday night Sabbath to Sunday morning (which they call the “Lord’s Day”), every Sunday is regarded as a little Easter. That’s why the forty days of Lent don’t include the Sundays. Some day when you’re bored by winter weather, count them up. It’s Sunday, a little Easter.
The better reason, however, is not the date nor the schedule, but that Christians are Easter people. The resurrection of Jesus is central to what we believe about God, Christ, and the faith. This is where Paul begins in chapter fifteen. This is the Good News, he says. It’s the Message, the Saving Word. It is the Spoken Tradition that we continue to voice: Christ has died, Christ is risen. Jesus died for our sins, because of our sins, with our sins – and God raised him from the dead. That one weekend event revealed the heart of God’s love for the world. We received that Message. We speak it – and sing it.
But what does Easter have to do with us? Good question, because on the face of it, Easter has to do with Jesus. He is the One who is alive again, not us. And he is the focal point. Today, without the distraction of brunch plans, a lot of beautiful flowers, the visits of a hundred church alumni, and all the extra musical notes, we can take a bit of time to reflect on this. What is Easter for us?
Because it has to do with Jesus: the world tried to push him out, but God brought him back. Therefore, everything God was doing in Jesus was the right thing. Every word he spoke was worth hearing and keeping. Every person he loved is a person we are commanded to love. God has confirmed that Jesus the Christ is the One with whom we have to deal. There is no other. He has been raised from the grave and raised to authority. He is Lord, the Lord. Only one!
So, Easter has something to do with God. The event revealed the God is stronger than death, which is a good thing to remember when death comes close to us. By faith, we trust God sent his own son to us; we killed him, God said, “No, you don’t1” And that’s extraordinary, too. For it reveals God is stronger than the sin that conspired against his son, stronger than the human hatred and religious jealousy that convicted him, stronger than the brutality that murdered him, stronger from the impulses that could lurk in any of us to twist and destroy another life. God says, “No!” and cancels the power of sin – even though there’s a whole lot of sin still going on. This is what God has done.
But what about us?
This is where Paul digs in. He preaches Easter as a Message, yet he knows something bigger is afoot. The resurrection creates a chain reaction that affects all reality. If we deny the message, we miss out on what God has begun. To get at this, Paul creates a little chain reaction of his own. It’s so important he says it twice:
If there is no resurrection, then Jesus
has not been raised.
If Jesus has not been raised, then our message
has been in vain.
If our message has been in vain, then your faith has been in vain.
At this, the Corinthian Christians would have looked at one another and said, “But our faith is not in vain.” It’s real. There are good things going on. We know more about God. His message gives us a new kind of life. There is evidence that Jesus still speaks to us and the world. The Message is reaching others. Lives are being changed. Our faith gives us eyes to see. It stirs up positive values. It directs the daily work God wants us to do. It’s not futile at all.
You see, the resurrection cracks open the confinement of living only in this world. As John Calvin once commented on our scripture, "To believe 'in this life only' means here to confine the benefits derived from our faith to this world, so that our faith no longer looks or extends beyond the bounds of this present life."[1] (p. 321)
But something has happened. Life, as we generally know it, has been punctured from the outside. God has done something in raising Christ that will affect all of us. Paul describes it as the “first fruit” of a future harvest. It is the first evidence of cosmic goodness. All his years of studying the Jewish scriptures, particularly the scriptures of the Jewish prophets, have prepared him to see God has begun to work out the salvation of the world. In Jewish thinking, salvation is more than a “me and Jesus” thing. Rather, it is the restoration of all that is broken or dead. And it’s now underway.
This is Paul's central interpretation of the resurrection. Christ's resurrection is the "first fruit" of God's coming reign. It is God's initial offering of what is yet to come. It’s big. It’s as enormous as that chapter eight in his other book, the letter to the Romans. Christ’s raising opens the way to our raising. It opens the way to the raising of all that God creates and loves.
Winter is a good time to chew on this. I picked up a thick book by J Christiaan Beker, the eminent New Testament scholar. I wanted to see what he had to say. After wading into the deep, I heard him use a word I did not know. The word is “prolepsis.” I had to look it up in three different dictionaries. It’s exactly what Paul was talking about: "Prolepsis: (noun): the representation or assumption of a future act or development as if presently existing or accomplished."
Easter is Prolepsis. Christ is raised; the future has been revealed although it’s not quite year. What we expect from "this life only" is not what we're going to receive in Christ. Rather, "we believe in the resurrection of the dead." Jesus was raised, we shall be raised, all things shall be healed. That’s the chain reaction. Sure, we have seen it only once, yet faith affirms this is our final destiny. Death shall not have the last word. Here and now, we are no longer enslaved by the powers that lead to death. That’s something I’ll talk about more next week.
In the meantime, Easter frees us to live as if we are already raised with Christ. We do not have to concede to the twisted rulers, authorities, and powers of the world. The resurrection of Christ has opened a new way to live. It provides an alternative script for the future. Here’s how somebody puts it,
There are some people who live toward this future, even if they do not know how to name it. Some people say, "The poor are always with us," and with a shrug of the shoulder, walk away to make the next payment on the Mercedes. Other people, however, sacrificially share their possessions from warm and generous hearts. Why? Some people say, "There will be wars and rumors of wars," and just hope that when the time comes we have more firepower than the other guys. Other people pray for peace, work for peace, and live as makers of peace. Why? Some people say, "Once a jerk, always a jerk," and let many suns go down on their anger. Other people forgive and forgive, seven times seventy. Why?
The only sensible answer lies in the fundamental assumptions we make about the future. If tomorrow is to be just like today, only more so, then only a fool would forgive, pray, love, and sacrifice. To be sure, some prudent planning might be in order so that we can draw the best available hand from the present deck, but we already know what's in the cards.
But if the tomb could not remain sealed, if suffering and death do not have the last word, if God's future for us is more than an infinite extension of yesterday, then we can hope for more than a reshuffling of the same old cards. A radically new game has been promised.[2]
We remember Easter. It’s a past event, a Message we have heard. Easter is also our future hope and our present life. It is the invitation to live under the rule of Christ. His sacrificial love, his amazing grace – they are the promise for the world. God’s future has been signaled. Yet is it going to happen? Is it really going to happen?
I can only tell you a story. Garrison Keillor says the people of Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, must live through a bitter, interminable winter. Does anybody know how that feels? To break up the bleakness, the Sons of Knute have a contest that begins on Groundhog Day. They haul Mr. Berge’s maroon 1949 Ford out onto the lake, about forty yards offshore. A long chain is attached to the rear axle. Then the Sons of Knute start taking wagers on when the Ford will break through the ice. It’s a dollar a chance. Guess the day and the hour. The winner gets a fishing boat, and the proceeds go to a college scholarship.[3]
No one knows when the ice will break. Early March? Middle of April? Nobody knows. But one day, suddenly, the thaw will come. Just as the resurrection will come for us. Winter will not last forever, for we are no longer bound to the present harsh circumstances. We are no longer captive to our mistakes. We are longer confined to the limitations of weakness, bad habits, foolishness, or mortality. For Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.
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