One Last Easter Reflection: Is There Any Substance To It?

Whether believers or skeptics, we and our world improve when we consider the message of Easter and ask what it really amounts to.

As I look back on my experiences this Easter, I feel prompted by a question that I believe usually gets less attention than it deserves — from both skeptics and faithful alike. That question is this:

Is there any substance in it?

Personally, I believe in the message of Easter. That is my bias. But, in my experience (and I’ve lived on three continents now), those who take pains to grapple with its implications — regardless of what they ultimately decide about it — live lives that are more committed, more self-assured, and (ironically) generally more civil than what mere reliance on family tradition, half-formed personal opinion, or prevailing social narrative tend to produce.

The Easter story — and the real, pragmatic problems it asks us to engage — are (and should be!) radical and unsettling when we consider them seriously. At the very least, it creates a point of contact between Christian faithful and nonbelievers — we can then find common ground in that we have all at least asked the question.

But I also believe that Easter demands that each of us, in and out of the Christian faith tradition, take a hard look at some of the fundamental perturbations of the human condition.

We live now — have always lived, really — in a world convulsed by genocide, intractable corruption in government, organized crime, sex slavery, the miseries of maladaptive traditions and personal choices, and every species of racism, social injustice, and hate.

Worse, these social evils are calculated (often deliberately) to draw in the innocent, to exploit them, and — above all — to make it as hard as possible for them to get out.

In this context, the message borne by Easter is intrinsically intriguing — a radical view of a God whose main objective is to offer common, broken, individual people a way out; who offers second and third chances (even up to “seventy times seven,” as He put it), even for the very worst of us —

— and who is willing to pay the price for it, personally, with His own body.

Even while being ridiculed by cynics and despised for His efforts.

Even while being hated for the genius and subtle efficiency with which He could rock the status quo.

In essence, Jesus’ social teachings were attractive (and so infuriating!) precisely because they offered a way out — both for the abused, and for the abusers. Even if the world around each of His followers never changed, He empowered them to change. In the process, those who stuck with it escaped humiliating co-dependence and found dignity, self-respect, and peace.

Socially, He also created a viable “third option” to the “eat or be eaten” dilemma of life, one in which those aspiring to something more — more real and more wholesome — could join in community to seek — and actually achieve — authentic meaning, and leave a legacy each individual could be proud of.

Compounding all of this is the essential Easter message that Jesus died (definitively, according to eyewitnesses) and then returned, alive (as did others, shortly after; c.f., Matt 27:52–53) — a tangible, corporeal being — with a promise that immortality, not death, would be the final destiny of the human family.

This message — the individual and social goods Jesus offered, and the allure of a certainty that death is a start, not an end, to life — are just as compelling (and rattling) today as in His own time. The Big Question remains:

Is there anything to it? Is the message of Easter actually a desperately sought-for Way Out? Or (as Jesus’ own skeptics and cynics insisted) is it all delusion — a naïve hope; or worse, another hoax meant to draw in a credulous flock, to be preyed upon by yet another Machiavellian social institution?

I wish all of us — believers and skeptics alike — would take this question more seriously. Again, in my experience, when we arrive at a sense of certainty in our answer, whether for or against, it affects everything, from how we live our personal lives, to our ability to “see” each other and the social policies we enact, to the outcomes and happiness we can achieve collectively and individually.

Those who insist on approaching metaphysics with half-formed, ill-defended opinions, on the other hand, rarely rise beyond an uncommitted mediocrity in life — a life marked with uncertainty and, almost invariably, a particular easiness to be offended.

Fortunately, the validity of Easter can be confirmed or refuted on its own merits.

For one thing, Jesus (and those who knew and wrote about Him) went out of their way to make the case for belief as psychologically compelling as possible, citing:

• multiple appearances,
• to multiple witnesses (including a group of 500 on one occasion),
• including close, physical contact (touching Him, watching Him eat their food, etc.)
• backed up by “signs following” His students.*

Most compelling of all was the transformation of life — the peace and happiness that radiated from those who actually “worked the doctrine” and were fully invested in the lifestyle — that enabled those who saw Him to confront ridicule, torture, and even death with uncanny and even cheerful confidence.

Even more importantly, though, Jesus Himself left litmus tests for “passing” or “failing” the authenticity of His message. And if these tests are not, strictly speaking, easy, they are at least straightforward and attainable for everybody. In His own words:

• “Every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.” (Matt: 7: 8)
• “A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” (Matt. 7: 18, 20)
• “If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”

In other words — anyone can learn whether Easter and Jesus’ “way out” are humbug (or not) by 1) sincerely asking God whether it’s true (and listening for the answer); 2) observing closely the long-term emotional and psychological outcomes of those most deeply invested in living the Christian message and lifestyle; and 3) conducting experiments with applying the message in their own life.

The outcomes from these tests constitute data that you and I can use for making an intelligent, informed decision about our own metaphysics. This becomes an intimate, individual process. In my experience, despite the seeming inefficiency of dealing with one person at a time, it’s a process God cares deeply and personally about.

And, just as with those who saw and heard and touched a living, breathing, resurrected Man, the experience has the power to transform a person’s life.

On the other hand, if these tests conclusively turns up nothing, that is strong data, too.

Either way, it leaves an individual at liberty to tackle the decisions of his or her life with confidence — and do so with a deeper, more intimate connection to the gritty, nuanced reality of the human condition.

Personally, I believe in the message of Easter. I’ve been through the paces myself; I’ve tried life inside and outside the worldview, and tested the fruit from both trees; and I’ve seen the peace and the life it’s brought to others, even in extreme circumstances. I can confidently say Jesus’ “way out,” when really applied, still works — even for the worst of us. And I’m equally confident in His promise of a vibrant, unbroken life after this one.

I’ve asked the Big Question, and it’s changed me, and continues to change me.

I believe it will change you, too.

Whether we believe, doubt, or actively disbelieve, I believe the question of Easter is worth visiting — and returning to, often — for each of us. It is a question for all the ages. It is a question which, whatever we ultimately make of it, can still change the world.

*The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ records the formal witness of a crowd of no fewer than 2,500 men, women, and children in ancient America who saw Jesus appear, heard Him address them, and handled His body. Whether or not one accepts the broader theological claims of the religious movement most famously associated with the work, the more one learns about the text of The Book of Mormon and the circumstances of its composition, the harder it is to dismiss its authenticity. The existence of the book is deliberately uncanny; it serves, intentionally and above all, as further confirmation that the Biblical accounts of Jesus’ teachings and resurrection are, in reality, true.