Skepticism and Hope

Although the Easter stories in the four Gospels differ somewhat in their details, the theme of disbelief is common to all of them.[1] In the longer ending of Mark, Mary Magdalene’s report of the resurrection meets with rejection: “When [the disciples] heard that [Jesus] was alive and had been seen by her, they would not believe it.”[2] In Matthew, even some of those who get a glimpse of the risen Jesus can’t quite accept it: “When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.”[3] And in John, the Apostle Thomas famously demands evidence before he’s willing to entertain the possibility of the resurrection: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”[4]

So, too, does disbelief play a role in the story of Easter morning in Luke, our Gospel for today:

The men [in dazzling clothes] said to [the women at the tomb], “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 the hands of sinners and be crucified and on the third day rise again.” Then [the women] remembered [Jesus’] words, and returning from the tomb they told all this to the eleven [apostles] and to all the rest…. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.

Neither Jesus’ own prophecy nor the women’s report of their encounter with the messengers of God is enough to convince the disciples of Jesus’ resurrection.

Notwithstanding the festivity of this holy day, I for one am relieved that the Gospel writers make mention of disbelief at Easter. Otherwise, the story would not ring true. If I put myself in the disciples’ sandals, I can’t help but identify with them. After all, the trauma of the crucifixion must have taken an enormous emotional toll, so Jesus’ followers can’t be expected to bounce back at the slightest possibility of good news; they can’t just flip a switch from despair to hope. If anything, the report of Jesus’ resurrection further confuses an already disorienting situation, raising more questions than it answers.

Did you notice, however, that the women’s account is intriguing enough to provoke Peter to go and see for himself? Despite his own uncertainty, “Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.” In the end, Peter does not receive confirmation of the resurrection; his astonishment at Jesus’ bodily absence doesn’t yet amount to faith.[5]

So on Easter morning, Jesus’ followers are left with a mystery. And two thousand years later, so are we.

Of course, disbelief is still an important theme at Easter. Maybe there’s a part of you today that resists the news of the resurrection, like the first disciples. Set against the backdrop of cruelty and suffering over the ages– set against the certainty of death– the resurrection is simply too good to be true, isn’t it? The crucifixion, on the other hand– that’s entirely believable; crucifixion epitomizes all the horrible pain human beings routinely inflict on each other. That is to say, the cross looks like the world we know, the world as it’s always been.

If the skeptical, even cynical, part of you is, in fact, showing up today, let me insist that part is valid. Consider the ways your skeptical part protects you. Hope is risky, after all. If you’re too eager to believe that people are fundamentally good, that we’re capable of arranging our shared life in just and merciful ways, that in the end the world can change for the better, then you’re bound to be disappointed. Death relentlessly forces its way into the places of life, doesn’t it? – not the other way around. So if you proceed with the utmost caution, if you withhold your trust, if you anticipate the worst-case scenario, then you’re less likely to be fooled. Your skeptical part enables you to move through a death-dealing world with awareness and prudence.

But maybe there’s also a part of you today that is drawn to the story of the resurrection, like Peter who, despite his misgivings, peers expectantly into the tomb. Given the precarity and fragility of life, maybe there’s a part of you that longs for the kind of redemption Easter promises: “As all die in Adam,” the Apostle Paul professes in today’s reading from Corinthians, “so all will be made alive in Christ.” What if it were true– what if Jesus has, in fact, risen from the dead to give life the last word? That would change everything.

If the curious, even hopeful, part of you is showing up today, let me insist that part is also valid. Consider the ways your hopeful part serves you. If you were to abandon all hope, to reject the possibility of positive outcomes, to conclude that life cannot finally overcome the deathly ways of the world, then you’d struggle to envision and embrace a life worth living. Your hopeful part gets you out of bed in the morning; it clings to the prospect of salvation, the possibility of a future beyond tragedy.

Friends, there is a place at the Easter dinner table for both your skeptical and your hopeful part. Let me invite you to welcome them both through the door today, to listen attentively to both, and to treat both with kindness. And let me invite you to allow the Easter feast– this age-old story, these well-loved songs, and this sacred meal where all are welcome– to encompass the whole of who you are, and to sustain you for life today and in the time to come.

[1] R. Alan Culpepper, The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. IX, 470.

[2] 16:11.

[3] 28:17.

[4] 20:25.

[5] Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke, 836, 840.