Revised And Amended By The Author Of Life
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
Series I, Cycle C
The celebrated theologian and novelist Frederick Buechner once remarked that preaching is like doing algebra. An intriguing comparison, to be sure. But to use his example, consider the equation x + y = z. If you know the value of one of these letters, then you know at least something. If you know the value of two, you can probably figure the rest of it out and solve the whole thing. If you aren't sure of the value of any, then you are pretty much stuck.
Preachers would do well to remember this, especially when they start flinging phrases from the pulpit like "the blood atonement of Jesus Christ," or "the communion of saints," or even "the resurrection of the body." Such abstract doctrines are likely to remain just that -- abstract -- unless one knows the particular value and meaning of each word. As Buechner observes:
If preachers make no attempt to flesh out these words in terms of everyday human experience (maybe even their own) but simply repeat with variations the same old formulas week after week, then the congregation might just as well spend Sunday morning at home with the funnies ... If people's understanding of theological phrases goes little deeper than their dictionary or catechetical definitions, then to believe in them has just about as much effect on their lives as to believe that Columbus discovered America in 1492 or that x + y = z.1
Simply put, it is never wise to have a sermon filled with too many variables.
This brings us to the morning's scripture lesson. Since Paul is speaking in this passage about things that no one really knows about with any degree of certainty, we probably shouldn't hold him to mathematical exactness. He does his best, of course, to express the inexpressible and describe the indescribable. However, I think even he would admit that, in terms of understanding the great and glorious mysteries of heaven, we will never succeed in solving all of the variables.
Having said that, the question that Paul is attempting to answer for the Corinthians is: "What kind of body will we have in the life to come?" Because he can't help but do otherwise, Paul responds to this question with a series of analogies. To begin with, he compares it to a seed. "What you sow does not come to life unless it dies," he points out. "And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body" (vv. 36-38). In other words, when you put a seed in the ground, it dies. In due time and under the right conditions, it will rise again. Only it will do so with a radically different body than that with which it was sown.
Still, it's not as if the plant has an entirely separate existence from the seed. Distinct, yes; different, to be sure; but not separate. One life leads to the other. In effect, what Paul is trying to demonstrate here is that, at one and the same time, there can be dissolution, difference, and yet continuity. The seed dissolves in order to bring forth a different life, but it remains an extension of the same seed. Likewise, our earthly bodies will dissolve and rise again in a very different form. However, it is the same person who rises. Dissolved by death and transformed by resurrection, it is still we who exist.
This is not to suggest, of course, that we are immortal. Being immortal implies that we are death-proof -- or at least, our souls are. To believe in the immortality of the soul is to believe that while our bodies may lie moldering in the dirt, our souls go marching bravely on because -- well, because that's just what souls do. They don't die, because they can't die. True or false as that may be, it's not what the Bible teaches. The scriptural view is that our body and soul are as inextricably bound to one another as seed and plant. Put another way, we don't just have some body, we are somebody. Thus, when we kick the bucket, we kick it a hundred percent -- body and soul. There is no part of us that automatically lives on. If that were the case, there would be no need for a resurrection at all. What Christians believe is that when we die, that's it -- we're dead! Then, by God's mighty power and merciful grace, we are given our lives back again, just as we were given those lives by God the first time around.
According to Paul, though, while our heavenly life will certainly be different than the one we currently enjoy, it won't be some disembodied remnant, or distant echo, of what we are here on earth. On the contrary, the same unique qualities and characteristics that make us some body, and not just any body, will remain intact. This is precisely what we are affirming when we speak of "the resurrection of the body." We're not referring to our physical bodies (frankly, I'm looking forward to trading this one in some day for a sleeker model). What we mean is that our personality -- or better yet, our personhood -- continues on.
When a child dies, for instance, we ought not to think of him/her as forever remaining a child in heaven. It's the personhood -- the individuality, if you like -- that is resurrected. It's all of those wonderful gifts and abilities that were already present in the child, only we never had a chance to see them fully developed. But one day we will, because one day we shall all be reunited in a kingdom whose love knows no bounds, and whose life has no end. Does this imply that we will be able to recognize one another in heaven? I believe so, absolutely. We won't look the same, of course. But then again, we won't see the same either. We will be given the ability to recognize in each other the very things that prejudice, hatred, and jealousy so often prevent us from seeing now.
That seems to be what Paul is getting at in his second analogy. "Not all flesh is alike," he writes, "but there is one flesh for human beings, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish. There are both heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is one thing, and that of the earthly is another" (1 Corinthians 15:39-40). In other words, when God fashioned the heavens and the earth, and flung the stars into the farthest reaches of the galaxies like rice at a wedding, God gave each living thing a body suitable for its specific part and function in creation. For example, did you realize that in order to nurse their young, whales possess a special mechanism that enables their babies to suckle underwater without drowning? Or that to pump blood up to the head of a giraffe requires such a high blood pressure that they would black out each time they bent down for a drink, if it weren't for the fact that they possess a special blood pressure-reducing mechanism, a network of tiny veins called the rete mirabile? You see, God has given every creature great and small exactly what they need to live.
In a similar fashion, Paul submits that when we are raised in glory, we will be given a body suitable for the resurrected life. Whether this will entail another kind of anatomy, or simply an improved one -- with special eyes, better hearing, upgraded hearts, and the like -- is anyone's guess. Paul doesn't speculate on the particulars. The bottom line is that we will all be revised and amended as the Author of our stories sees fit. This much seems certain, however. In the life to come, we will be able to listen to God more closely, know God more deeply, love God more fully, and serve God most faithfully.
Indeed, the reason we will be able to do so is because our bodies will no longer be encumbered by the faults and frailties that we experience here on earth. No longer will we have to deal with the deterioration and decay that our present bodies inevitably incur with the passing of the years. No longer will we be governed by appetites and urges that are never fully satisfied. No longer will we be limited by our physical condition, or judged by our appearance. No longer will the flesh prove willing but the spirit weak, for one will be transformed into the other. The Apostle Paul puts it this way: "What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body; it is raised a spiritual body" (vv. 42-44).
In effect, what Paul is announcing throughout this passage is that the resurrection completes us. Ultimately we become who we were truly meant to be all along.
But even more significant than that, what I think Paul is saying here is that when the final curtain falls on the drama of life, and all of the actors and actresses are assembled on stage, we will discover that the playwright has penned yet another role for us to perform.
When the present is past and the future is now, God will be there to grant us life again and to lead us forth into a glorious new future.
When the long journey is over and we've reached our intended destination, we will find that our end is also our beginning -- together with God.
____________
1. Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary (San Francisco: HarperCollins Publishers, 1993), pp. 5-6.
Preachers would do well to remember this, especially when they start flinging phrases from the pulpit like "the blood atonement of Jesus Christ," or "the communion of saints," or even "the resurrection of the body." Such abstract doctrines are likely to remain just that -- abstract -- unless one knows the particular value and meaning of each word. As Buechner observes:
If preachers make no attempt to flesh out these words in terms of everyday human experience (maybe even their own) but simply repeat with variations the same old formulas week after week, then the congregation might just as well spend Sunday morning at home with the funnies ... If people's understanding of theological phrases goes little deeper than their dictionary or catechetical definitions, then to believe in them has just about as much effect on their lives as to believe that Columbus discovered America in 1492 or that x + y = z.1
Simply put, it is never wise to have a sermon filled with too many variables.
This brings us to the morning's scripture lesson. Since Paul is speaking in this passage about things that no one really knows about with any degree of certainty, we probably shouldn't hold him to mathematical exactness. He does his best, of course, to express the inexpressible and describe the indescribable. However, I think even he would admit that, in terms of understanding the great and glorious mysteries of heaven, we will never succeed in solving all of the variables.
Having said that, the question that Paul is attempting to answer for the Corinthians is: "What kind of body will we have in the life to come?" Because he can't help but do otherwise, Paul responds to this question with a series of analogies. To begin with, he compares it to a seed. "What you sow does not come to life unless it dies," he points out. "And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body" (vv. 36-38). In other words, when you put a seed in the ground, it dies. In due time and under the right conditions, it will rise again. Only it will do so with a radically different body than that with which it was sown.
Still, it's not as if the plant has an entirely separate existence from the seed. Distinct, yes; different, to be sure; but not separate. One life leads to the other. In effect, what Paul is trying to demonstrate here is that, at one and the same time, there can be dissolution, difference, and yet continuity. The seed dissolves in order to bring forth a different life, but it remains an extension of the same seed. Likewise, our earthly bodies will dissolve and rise again in a very different form. However, it is the same person who rises. Dissolved by death and transformed by resurrection, it is still we who exist.
This is not to suggest, of course, that we are immortal. Being immortal implies that we are death-proof -- or at least, our souls are. To believe in the immortality of the soul is to believe that while our bodies may lie moldering in the dirt, our souls go marching bravely on because -- well, because that's just what souls do. They don't die, because they can't die. True or false as that may be, it's not what the Bible teaches. The scriptural view is that our body and soul are as inextricably bound to one another as seed and plant. Put another way, we don't just have some body, we are somebody. Thus, when we kick the bucket, we kick it a hundred percent -- body and soul. There is no part of us that automatically lives on. If that were the case, there would be no need for a resurrection at all. What Christians believe is that when we die, that's it -- we're dead! Then, by God's mighty power and merciful grace, we are given our lives back again, just as we were given those lives by God the first time around.
According to Paul, though, while our heavenly life will certainly be different than the one we currently enjoy, it won't be some disembodied remnant, or distant echo, of what we are here on earth. On the contrary, the same unique qualities and characteristics that make us some body, and not just any body, will remain intact. This is precisely what we are affirming when we speak of "the resurrection of the body." We're not referring to our physical bodies (frankly, I'm looking forward to trading this one in some day for a sleeker model). What we mean is that our personality -- or better yet, our personhood -- continues on.
When a child dies, for instance, we ought not to think of him/her as forever remaining a child in heaven. It's the personhood -- the individuality, if you like -- that is resurrected. It's all of those wonderful gifts and abilities that were already present in the child, only we never had a chance to see them fully developed. But one day we will, because one day we shall all be reunited in a kingdom whose love knows no bounds, and whose life has no end. Does this imply that we will be able to recognize one another in heaven? I believe so, absolutely. We won't look the same, of course. But then again, we won't see the same either. We will be given the ability to recognize in each other the very things that prejudice, hatred, and jealousy so often prevent us from seeing now.
That seems to be what Paul is getting at in his second analogy. "Not all flesh is alike," he writes, "but there is one flesh for human beings, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish. There are both heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is one thing, and that of the earthly is another" (1 Corinthians 15:39-40). In other words, when God fashioned the heavens and the earth, and flung the stars into the farthest reaches of the galaxies like rice at a wedding, God gave each living thing a body suitable for its specific part and function in creation. For example, did you realize that in order to nurse their young, whales possess a special mechanism that enables their babies to suckle underwater without drowning? Or that to pump blood up to the head of a giraffe requires such a high blood pressure that they would black out each time they bent down for a drink, if it weren't for the fact that they possess a special blood pressure-reducing mechanism, a network of tiny veins called the rete mirabile? You see, God has given every creature great and small exactly what they need to live.
In a similar fashion, Paul submits that when we are raised in glory, we will be given a body suitable for the resurrected life. Whether this will entail another kind of anatomy, or simply an improved one -- with special eyes, better hearing, upgraded hearts, and the like -- is anyone's guess. Paul doesn't speculate on the particulars. The bottom line is that we will all be revised and amended as the Author of our stories sees fit. This much seems certain, however. In the life to come, we will be able to listen to God more closely, know God more deeply, love God more fully, and serve God most faithfully.
Indeed, the reason we will be able to do so is because our bodies will no longer be encumbered by the faults and frailties that we experience here on earth. No longer will we have to deal with the deterioration and decay that our present bodies inevitably incur with the passing of the years. No longer will we be governed by appetites and urges that are never fully satisfied. No longer will we be limited by our physical condition, or judged by our appearance. No longer will the flesh prove willing but the spirit weak, for one will be transformed into the other. The Apostle Paul puts it this way: "What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body; it is raised a spiritual body" (vv. 42-44).
In effect, what Paul is announcing throughout this passage is that the resurrection completes us. Ultimately we become who we were truly meant to be all along.
But even more significant than that, what I think Paul is saying here is that when the final curtain falls on the drama of life, and all of the actors and actresses are assembled on stage, we will discover that the playwright has penned yet another role for us to perform.
When the present is past and the future is now, God will be there to grant us life again and to lead us forth into a glorious new future.
When the long journey is over and we've reached our intended destination, we will find that our end is also our beginning -- together with God.
____________
1. Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary (San Francisco: HarperCollins Publishers, 1993), pp. 5-6.
