The Opening of Divinity in the Opening of Arms: A Cruciform Phenomenology of the Humanity and Divinity of Christ
“Open arms are a gesture of the body reaching for the other. They are a sign of discontent with my own self-enclosed identity and a code of desire for the other. I do not want to be myself only; I want the other to be part of who I am and I want to be part of the other.” –Miroslav Volf
For two thousand years Christians have debated over how to intelligibly conceptualize and reconcile two descriptive categories of Jesus in the canonical Gospel traditions on philosophical grounds. One category meets us in the immanent and ordinary dimension of existence: the humanity of Jesus, a life-trajectory that begins with birth in a feeding trough and terminates in a bloody death on a wooden cross, complete with all of the sorrow and joy of life in between. The other category meets us in mythical transcendence: the divinity of Christ that arrives to us in the power and impact of Jesus, whose life-trajectory discloses through enacted parable the character of God, exploding through Resurrection as the transformative consciousness of an expanding community named by Saint Paul the ‘Body of Christ.’
Several councils met throughout the first five centuries to accomplish a reconciliation between Jesus’ humanity and divinity. Two schools emerged–one in Antioch and one in Alexandria–one emphasizing humanity over divinity and the other emphasizing divinity over humanity. The Antiochene School taught the sublation and truncation of divinity under a totalization of human essence, positing that Jesus was a human person uniquely created and empowered by God to reveal God’s wisdom and intentions through the indwelling of God’s Spirit. Conversely, the Alexandrian School posited that the divine Creator took on fleshly form/appearance so as to accomplish our salvation through transforming human flesh, thus truncating and sublating Jesus’ humanity beneath and within a divine totality. The ongoing tension between Antioch and Alexandria terminated in compromise with the acceptance of an unresolvable paradox at the Council of Nicaea: Jesus was both fully human and fully divine.
But what if this paradox only manifests itself within an outdated metaphysical framework? In both the Platonic and Aristotelian paradigms of the early church age–the former grounding Alexandrian Christology and the latter grounding Antiochene Christology–incarnation was a major philosophical problem. The divine essence was seen as completely distinct from human essence and thus incapable of being mixed with it. But we now know, by way of quantum physics, that all ‘matter’ is composed of energetic relationships where the Higgs Field cools down. The old problem of incarnation is how two essences can occupy the same space. But from the contemporary scientific perspective, incarnation is ubiquitous if God is understood as “light” (a mythic archetype for divinity), which in physics amounts to pure energy: the very basis of matter. God then must be incarnate in all being as its very ground and future. The new question then is not how God’s incarnation in Jesus is possible, but how it is unique.
If we thereby presuppose that incarnation is a universal reality, the incarnation of Jesus would have to be different by degree, not kind. What then is this degree? My own position is that it is Jesus’ ecstatic unity with the divine through the wisdom of agape that makes him fully human, and it is his full humanity that makes him fully divine. In this way Jesus becomes triumphant over the multifarious forms of alienation in human life. Jesus is not other than human but more deeply human. [Side note: One may ask, does this mean that only a human person can be fully divine? My answer is no, because the realization of divinity is simply the realization of the full positive potential of any given genus in its respective habitat. What follows is simply my thoughts on the divine in human form.]
Unlike the Antiochene Jesus who becomes superhuman by making a special claim on the being of God that you and I cannot, and unlike the Alexandrian Jesus who is the God-in-flesh who makes a special claim on human being that we cannot, the real and actual and weak Jesus opens his arms toward both poles of being as a meeting space. With one arm reached toward divinity and one toward humanity, he simply makes himself a space of near-nonbeing—an open convergence between the divine and the human. He becomes not a demigod but a space between being itself–an opening of emptiness that is simultaneously a fullness.
The symbol of Jesus spreading out his arms is found on the cross itself. On a hill called Golgotha–the ‘place of the skull’–a cursed ‘outside’ where tribal identities no longer persist, Jesus becomes subject to nonbeing and otherness. In this place of self-emptying, he opens his arms toward the other, welcoming the other into a cruciform way of life where identities are crucified and transformed so that each person may embrace the other in authenticity and love.
Through the self-forgetful embrace of the other, self-alienation is dissolved into holistic self-completion. It is here that one may become fully human. And it is only as one becomes fully human that she may become fully divine, for the divine is disclosed for us in the space of nonbeing where being leaves itself to join with the other toward the creation of fuller Being. It is the sacred and ecological space of emerging wholeness wherein alienation is traded for loving embrace, and it is finally the sacred, differentiated unity of beings in love as a collective manifestation of the divine Life.
Christ hangs at the intersection of two lines: one is vertical divinity, and the other is horizontal humanity. As such, the cross is the place of intersection, staked into the very ground of nonbeing and nonidentity. The cross crosses out tribal identity insofar as it honors the human as human, allowing us to flourish as more fully human and thus become more fully divine.
I want to put forth the argument here that the Christian cross, understood radically, constitutes a strange and unusual offense. This offense is not merely an offense to a particular culture or subculture of humanity. The offense is offensive to culture as such, reflected in the image of a naked body on a naked cross on Golgotha (or ‘place of the skull’), a place symbolically naked of all cultural identities, marking the radical apriority of the nakedness of being anterior to the entire socio-cultural technology of human existence. That naked cross and naked crucifixion as an abyss of human meaning and fullness of darkness paradoxically signifies the nonbeing that haunts the being of God—a nonbeing that is the difference always-already within the life of God, and a Life whose structure is the trinitarian ground of being. Thus the trinitarian God appears in the cross as the primordial One (1) whose Life is always-already a Multiplicity (2) in Excess (3) of itself (to use Badiou’s terminology). Hence the structuring of God as a One whose eternal self-emptying is a multiplicity always in excess of itself constitutes a more deeply abstract and ontological elucidation of the trinitarian technology of divine spirit. I will return to this trinitarian structuring shortly, but first I want to elaborate this offense of the cross where it appears 2,000 years ago as well as where it appears now.
II. The Gospel of Christ-Crucified
Saint Paul sought to preach ‘nothing but Christ crucified’—strange terminology for what he called his ‘gospel’ or ‘good news.’ What is so good about God’s divine and messianic representative being crucified? Yet for Paul, the crucifixion of Christ is absolutely imperative for any positive meaning to resurrection (but not in the sense of dialectical necessity, for conversely, it images the very anti-dialectical foundation of what is called ‘grace’). For Paul, as noted above, the cross was the place where every former identity perishes—the entire self and ego. A new identity is born ‘in Christ,’ where one is now self-identified as a member of the ‘body of Christ,’ which is the incarnate body of God that appears as an abyss to every contingent meaning. One (as both oneself and Primordial One) is self-realized in the incarnate body of God when the divisive illusions of culture are thrown off, which is how Paul images Christ as the naked divine hanging from a cross—a cross which the Gospel traditions place on Golgotha, bordering the valley of Hinnom (translated by modern Bibles as ‘hell’) where—in Jewish consciousness—human identity is placed under a Curse and forgotten. For Paul, Christ enters this darkness of forgotten-ness, abandonment, oppression, and erasure in order to open up a new subjectivity indistinguishable from the naked spirit of God itself manifest in humanity. Thus Paul’s offense is the naked immediacy of God in its unconditional access to all beings (and, in Paul’s radical terminology, nonbeings!), an immediacy constituted by the radical self-abandonment and self-emptying (kenosis) of God in the absolute self-outpouring of divine spirit into the world.
III. A Stumbling Block and Broken Word
This offense offended both Jews and Greeks, which in Paul’s cultural consciousness are symbols for the religious and the philosophers. The religious are offended because they look for signs and wonders—magic and power—traumatically encountering in the cruciform image of God an impotent and defeated God unable to intervene to rescue us from existential vicissitude. The philosophers are offended because they seek wisdom, and a wisdom that can center all existence in an unbroken (and thus un-crucified) Absolute whose Oneness remains intact and whose static Logos maintains harmony and balance in the world. But Paul’s God is the crucified One whose divine elements are scattered and emptied throughout existence, a divine multiplicity always-already in excess of itself, always-already exceeding every identity and rule with novelty and evolution. New things are perpetually conceived and born from the divine Womb, which is why Paul loves baptism. For Paul, this image of new birth is what the cross is actually about, where Resurrection—as a surprising, unconditional, and graceful appearing—is the novel creation that arises from the floodwaters of catastrophic history and spaces of nonbeing, opening new worlds through the naked divine itself that trickles through open cracks and continually forms new essences.
IV. The Trinitarian Ground of Being
Here I return to the trinitarian ground of being as the orthodox symbol that harbors a secret heterodoxy against the omnipotent One who reigns atop the hierarchy of Orthodoxy. The radically trinitarian God—understood as the Primordial Being who is simultaneously Multiple and One—is structurally the same as Paul’s crucified God. That is, Paul’s crucified God is the crucified One whose kenosis splits it into 2, then 3, ad infinitum. In the trinitarian hermeneutic, Father [or Mother] is Primordial Being. The second element, Son [or Daughter], signifies the doubling of the divine One through incarnation (spirit<–(-/+)–>flesh/matter). The third element, Holy Spirit, is the Multiple that dynamically exceeds all static identities by always exceeding what was via ongoing evolutive novelty.
V. The Naked Offense
Unfortunately, today’s most deeply conservative philosophical theologians—entrenched in a Calvinism that continues to dominate a large portion of American religion—still define the offense of the cross according to the cross’s mediation of the disapproval and condemnation of sin by a ‘Big Other,’ which in psychoanalytic terminology means the authoritarian phantom of cultural ideology that remains in the aftermath of childhood parenting (and more specifically, distorted family systems). Such theologians claim that the cross is the place where a controlling Father (dwelling in a separate abode of existence) murders His innocent Son so as to both testify and satisfy his Wrath against us, boldly proclaiming that the logical and ethical paradoxes inherent in this image constitute the true scandal and offense of the cross. Is it possible that the offense is on them—a nonjudgmental offense that simply unveils their inability or unwillingness to accept the cross in its absolute nakedness, darkness, and trauma? Or more specifically, is their authoritarian monotheism offended by an unpolished cross where the transcendent One of judgment and imperial legitimation unexpectedly transfigures into a broken Absolute, and a broken One whose divine elements are incarnately spilled and disseminated in the birthing of new Life? Such an evolutive portrait of reality, structured by a trinitarian and kenotic ground, cannot legitimate a static view of existence or life. Rather the dynamic paradigm of trinitarian and evolutive divinity suggests that any good posture toward Life is one of openness and self-transformation. The good news—as seen in the cross and its evolutive outpouring of Life—is that the naked event of new birth remains a possibility within our grasp yesterday, today, and tomorrow, constitutive of an Unconditioned Real that cannot be cornered, owned, or defeated, always luring things forward into creative self-transcendence without end. Consequently, the naked offense neither caters to the image of Christ as merely an apocalyptic prophet nor a traditional mystic/sage. Rather this Christ proclaims an immediate and eternal apocalypse that perpetually contaminates all Presence, destabilizing and exceeding every order that it births through its own chaordic ground of eternal flux and creativity.
There must be a great sort of dissonance when you are convinced of some inner reality when others believe the exact opposite of you. Imagine being Jesus: maybe he was born with the knowledge of or experience of his own divinity (as coupled with his humanity), maybe he grew to discover it. But I suppose that neither of those axioms would really matter to you, oh Jesus.
You grow up, proclaiming things like “The Father and I are One” and insinuating that you–yes you!–are the divine one. You are the transcendent one. You–who was born of a woman, healed on the Sabbath, forgave sins, touched the unclean, cast out demons, and was crucified–are the one that the prophets spoke of???? And yet the tradition contradicts all these things! How dare you forgive someone’s sins! Touching the unclean? Go perform a cleansing ritual!! Atone for your sin of violating the Sabbath! Even the Muslims know that the Messiah of Israel cannot be crucified!! You blasphemer! Repent of your sin immediately! How dare you claim to transcend our clearly demarcated boundaries!!!!
Now imagine you are a trans woman. Maybe you were born having known or experienced your gender differently than people treated you; maybe you grew to discover it–5 years into life…14 years….21 years….50 years….80 years…. But, again, I suppose that these axioms might not matter all too much to you, oh Queer One.
You grow up and begin proclaiming things like “I am not a boy!!!” or insinuating that you–yes you!–are among those who cannot concede the gender everyone else imposes on them. You are the transcendent one. You–who was born with a specific set of genitalia, played sports, dressed in typical boyish garb, responding to your male name and male pronouns–are the one the tradition warns about. “God created them male and female!” they press. “A woman must not wear men’s clothing,” they insist, “nor a man wear women’s clothing, for the LORD your God detests anyone who does this.” So you figure, “hey, maybe I’ll start wearing women’s clothes then!” Your wit does not woo the nay-sayers of life. Do not repent. You need not cleanse yourself. Christ has not atoned for you, for you have not sinned in gender. What nonsense!
Suppose that we were once wrong about Christ–we denied him. Suppose we were wrong about trans people–we denied them as well. And look what happened.
Thank you for transcending boundaries with me.
“For the theologians say that we ought to hold exclusively to the Bible. […] Theologians, however, they are not; such an attitude has nothing of a scientific, theological character. But just as soon as religion is no longer simply the reading and repetition of passages, as soon as what is called explanation or interpretation begins, as soon as an attempt is made by inference and exegesis to find out the meaning of the words in the Bible, then we embark upon the process of reasoning, reflection, thinking; and the question then becomes how we should exercise this process of thinking, and whether our thinking is correct or not. It helps not at all to say that one’s thoughts are based on the Bible.”
-Hegel, The 1827 Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion
Spending the semester teaching my first class, and focusing a bit more on articles than book-length texts, this year’s reading list was a little light. Nonetheless, there were some real gems this year, here are the top 10.
10.) Jose Miranda: Marx and the Bible: A Critique of the Philosophy of Oppression
Given its title, it is surprising how much more Miranda’s Marx and the Bible is of “the Bible” than “Marx.” In fact, at its core, this text is essentially a large-scale commentary on the whole of the Christian scriptures. Emphasizing the key liberative portions of the bible (the exodus, the prophets, the gospels, and the epistles), Miranda suggests that the consistent stream that runs through the center of the all Christian scripture is a fundamental call to justice for the oppressed (the widow, stranger, and orphan). This call, Miranda will ultimately suggest, is not inconsistent with the liberatory call of marxist socialism. Rather, he will argue, within the Latin American context, the two must be held together.
9.) Alain Badiou: Paul: The Foundation of Universalism
In this short text, Badiou summarizes his philosophy of the event through a reading of Paul’s epistles. For Badiou, a staunch atheist, Paul’s subjective appropriation of the event (the resurrection of Christ) can be abstracted from its mythical ground (the resurrection as a literal event) and recognized as a clear exemplar of the proper form by which the subject responds to the revolutionary event. The text has a few obvious faults vis-avis Pauline scholarship, e.g. demphasis upon the communal character of Paul’s thought. Nonetheless, it is an insightful reading of Paul and likely the clearest presentation of Badiou’s philosophy.
8.) Slavoj Zizek: The Fragile Absolute
Zizek here presents — in his typically idiosyncratic and schizophrenic way — a fascinating defence of Christianity, particularly the protestant notion of “love” (caritas) as distinct from law. Christianity, in Zizek’s mind, is uniquely situated to offer a space to think beyond the strictures of the ruling capitalist ideology.
7.) Thomas Piketty: Capital in the Twenty-First Century
A bit of a sensation throughout the summer, Piketty’s Capital is intricately researched, and strongly argued. Central to his text is the argument that the average growth of capitalist economies is generally less than the standard rate of profit (his infamous r>g inequality). Thus, overtime, unrestricted capitalist economies always tend toward radical inequality. For a more intricate look into the argument, be sure to check out my (slowly moving) chapter-by-chapter analysis here.
6.) Gustavo Gutierrez: A Theology of Liberation
The foundation of liberation theology, now a classic of theology, is unexpectedly fresh even after all of these years. A truly remarkable text, Gutierrez succeeds in rethinking Catholic theology through engagements — not only with Marxist thought as generally noted — but also phenomenology, critical theory, and contemporary theology.
5.) John D. Caputo: The Insistence of God: A Theology of Perhaps
The functional sequel to The Weakness of God, Caputo’s most recent publication situates his theological vision of a “weak theology” within the context of a number of key philosophical and theological trends including: the radical theology of Slavoj Zizek, the radical orthodoxy of John Milbank, and the speculative realists.
4.) Thomas J.J. Alitizer: The New Gospel of Christian Atheism
Rethinking his unique vision, years after the publication of the first “Gospel of Christian Atheism,” Altizer presents a startling vision of an apocalyptic Christianity. A religion of the “absolute Novum” turned against any vision of a primordial return, Altizer’s Christianity pursues a radically Hegelian vision of an inbreaking of the authentically new.
3.) H.P. Lovecraft: Waking Up Screaming & The Watchers Out of Time
Technically two books, I have recently reentered the world of fiction through H.P. Lovecrafts exquisitely written short stories. Absolutely essential reading for anyone interested in the history of science fiction or horror; Lovecraft has also been entering the philosophical domain, having been appropriated by the new materialists. Great fun, though there are certain problematic racist undertones, particularly in his early work, that most be recognized as Lovecraft’s unfortunate inability to think beyond the bounds of the racist early 20th century New England society in which he was raised.
2.) Karl Marx: Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Volume I
Given its infamy, history, and declaration as “the bible of the proletariat,” it seems absurd to offer a meager praise of Marx’s Capital. That being said, the coherence and rigor of Marx’s magnum opus, is remarkable. Avoiding hasty generalizations, it both draws upon and critiques the preceding bourgeois economic tradition (particularly Smith and Ricardo), offering helpful correctives and laying out a profoundly nuanced labor-theory of value, theory of surplus value, and explanation of exploitation. Notoriously varied in rhetorical style, Marx seamlessly transitions between rigid economic prose, literary flourish (vampires and werewolves abound), and journalistic investigation.
1.) Hadewijch: Complete Works
A brilliant combination of love poetry, mystical theology, and theosophical reflections; the work of Hadewijch has been (rightfully) seeing a resurgence among medievalists and theologians alike. Its deeply embodied and sexually intricate theological vision is enlightening and inspiring. Truly Profound.
As I mentioned in my previous post, Why foundationalist logic fails at life, the true source of moral intuition does not lie in an ideological foundation that roots ethical rules in rational articulation. Rather, true morality springs directly from the heart of being itself. It is an impulse toward loving wholeness that demands the flourishing of all sentient beings in harmony. One feels this impulse. The calculation itself is secondary and contingent.
Western philosophers of the past have attempted to nail down morality by virtue of a given natural order–a transcendental moral law issued by heavenly mandate. Such a law would dictate the boundaries of transgression and permission, what is acceptable to the divine and what is not. But we live in a modern world that thrives after the death of God. We roam in a realm of mystery that recognizes the irrelevance of theistic intervention in light of technology, medicine, and contingent circumstance. It no longer makes sense to imagine the name of God in terms of an external force that issues punishment or reward according to whether sentient beings obey or reject a historically revealed transcendental moral order. In no longer makes sense to imagine the name of God as the name of a transcendent Judge and Law-giver.
The philosopher Saint Paul developed as a Jewish rabbi with a firm and rigorous interpretation of Torah. Upon his encounter of the followers of another rabbi named Jesus, he lashed back in anger and dictated persecution and murder. He was disturbed by this new movement that was predicated upon an interpretation of Torah as love-centered rather than oriented around a priestly cult of specific regulations. Later he had a mystical encounter on his way to persecute more of Jesus’ followers, directing him into a new level of consciousness. Eventually Paul woke up to a realization that true morality lied not in the “letter,” or dictated words of paper, but in “spirit,” meaning the very heart of life itself–the animating spirit of the Torah that also transcends Torah.
The break from natural law as an externally mediated moral order to ethics according to the impulse of being toward love and flourishing life constitutes the historical movement from Judaism to Christian consciousness. This does not mean that Christian consciousness was non-Jewish or anti-Jewish, but simply that it broke open the confines of religion and its legislated moral boundaries. Once the Spirit broke free, it could not be contained or controlled in the rapid expansion of Christ-consciousness, which is grace-consciousness.
The philosopher Jacques Derrida, a French Algerian Jew who knew what it meant to be marginalized and oppressed, entered the European scene to make a Pauline move: the Spirit of Justice and Love harbored by his Torah was to be set free from the constraints of Western philosophy too. Derrida argued that while the law was constructed to ensure and create justice, it had inevitably become the biggest obstacle to justice. One can see something similar in Marx’s critique of private property. While the divisions of property under law and in contract are meant to ensure that one’s property is protected, the originary act of creating property is the first act of theft. In fact, one could argue it is legalized theft. The most obvious example is when America’s European “forefathers” arrived upon these shores and stole the land from the natives already living here. The natives thought they were simply sharing and borrowing it because they did not believe in the concept of “owning land,” which they considered ludicrous.
If the law cannot ensure justice (although we need it), neither can moral calculation ensure morality. Rather morality is a fluid and uncontainable dynamic that keeps its eye on the situation–a very different reality than the blind judge of the Western legal order. It is like King Solomon when two women came before him in a dispute over a baby they both claimed was their own. Rather then applying some blind method of determination, Solomon suggested that the baby be sawn in half so that each mother would be appeased. He knew that the woman who would cry out against it, willingly allowing the other woman to take her baby, would be the true mother.
Derrida was right when he claimed that justice is incalculable. Once one begins to calculate, a violence is done to the moral impulse that is a part of the fluidity of being. Rather a better rule of thumb, if one needs one, can be found in this simple but profound statement from John Shelby Spong: “whatever diminishes life is evil, and whatever enhances life is good.”
Too Good to be True: Radical Christian Preaching, Year A
by Christopher D. Rodkey
Christian Alternative, 217 pp., $22.95
* * *
Overall Rating: 8/10
Christopher Rodkey’s Too Good to be True finds itself precariously situated at the border between the all-to-academic discourse of philosophical theology — particularly the radical theologies of Thomas J.J. Altizer, Mary Daly, and Gabriel Vahanian — and the world of the conventional homily: a position whose precarious nature appears to be fully recognized by Rodkey. Nonetheless, the work holds together well, perhaps even to thrive under this dual strain.
Having appeared as actual sermons in his various congregations, the main texts of this anthology tend to avoid the nuanced debates internal to radical theology, as well as its often obtuse jargon. Rather, this more technical work, as well as more thorough philosophical/theological citations, are reserved for the preface, the only site where Rodkey seems to flex his academic chops. Nevertheless, the sermons themselves are far from banal, rather they tend to draw out a few key themes of radical theology, most importantly: apocalypse. This choice is profound, as radical theology is primarily known, above all else, for its theology of God. This theology of God is famously recognized by Hegel, proclaimed by Nietzsche, and reaffirmed by Altizer as “God is Dead.” Yet, one would search in vain for a theology of death in this work. Rather, while a kenotic theology of the cross remains just around the corner, Too Good to be True is primarily a theology of affirmation; affirmation of life, and more importantly, affirmation of something more. This turn to the apocalyptic possibility of the in-breaking of something radically new or radically other may smack of theological conservativism (as some reviews have suggested) — and in their defense, it was of course the conservative Neo-orthodoxy of Karl Barth which proclaimed the incommensurability of revelation with the existing world more strongly than (nearly) any other 20th century theology — but Rodkey’s work is anything but conservative. The absolute new that Rodkey gestures toward is not the eternal paradise of evangelicalism or fundamentalism, but an immanent apocalypse. For Rodkey, and this is no clearer than in his reflections on the season of Advent, the Christian message, the message that is “too good to be true,” is that a new social-political-economic-religious order is possible. Nevertheless, in defense of the aforementioned reviewers, it is worth noting that Rodkey’s ambiguous terminology may often be read as either “traditional” or “radical” depending upon what underlying theological structure is suspected. Radical Christians, well versed in the uncompromising rhetoric of a Nietzsche or an Altizer may find claims — such as “the resurrection is too good to be true, and it’s too good to be false” (119) — to be mere repetition of a conservative agnostic-cum-fideistic logic. But it is important to situate Rodkey’s work within its appropriate context: where such theological motifs as the resurrection are employed theo-poetically, rather than naively or “literally.”
The forward by Peter Rollins and afterward by Thomas Altizer leave something to be desired. Both texts are disappointingly short and tend to rely heavily upon their respective author’s strengths (as interestign as those strengths may be), missing out on the opportunity to more fully or directly engage with Rodkey’s project (though Rollins does a better job in this regard than Altizer).
Overall, this text offers hope and inspiration to the radical theologian who finds herself within an often alien church, but who hasn’t given up hope on a new kind of Christianity. In particular, because of its avoidance of terminology specific to radical theology, this text may, most of all, benefit radical Christians working within traditional — even conservative — churches and denominations, who are seeking the types of speech that might permit them to speak a radical Christian message in a language that is comprehensible to their congregation or peers.
Text: John 20:1-18
“The reality is that we don’t know exactly what historically happened on that first Easter Sunday morning, and if we do take a historical position we just create an argument. The Good News of this Easter is that we have a third option away from the argument about whether the resurrection happened or not as a fact: namely, this third option is the position of the women who encounter Christ in the garden, where the resurrection is too good to be true, and it’s too good to be false. The return of Jesus enacts in us a call to step away from the downward spiral of our typical lives, and of our sufferings, and of our angers, and our mournings, and our injustices, and in this suffering, find new life and New Creation. When it’s too good to be true, the absurdity of the resurrection calls us to joy. When it’s too good to be true, we are led from our ordinary lives to something extra-ordinary.”
— Christopher Rodkey, Too Good to be True: Radical Christian Preaching
Text: John 18:1-19:42
The true “nature” of man [sic] appears in Hegel, at the twilight of history, when man consents to his salvation and recognizes all the consequences this entails. It is most certainly Hegel’s doctrine of salvation–of a reconciliation, whose entire reality can be manifested in the world on this side of death–that accounts for the discreteness of his eschatology. Man’s final self-identity is not the product of forces immanent in history, but is finite spirit objectively reconciled with absolute Spirit on the Cross of Christ.
-Jean-Yves Lacoste, “Hegel and the Eschaton This Side of Death” in Experience and the Absolute: Disputed Questions on the Humanity of Man, 121
Text: Matthew 26.14-27.66
By following the way of the radical Christian, we can rejoice in the death of God, and be assured that the historical realization of the death of God is a full unfolding of the forward movement of the Incarnation. Just as the Crucifixion embodies and makes finally real a divine movement from transcendence to immanence, a movement of an originally transcendent God into the actuality of life and experience, so too the dawning of the death of God throughout the totality of experience progressively annuls every human or actual possibility of returning to transcendence.
Thomas J.J. Altizer, “A Wager” in Toward a New Christianity: Readings in the Death of God Theology, 305-306