The Resurrection as Reintroduction: Rowan Williams on Icons of the Resurrection of Christ

Fresco of the Anastasis ("resurrection"), Chora Church (14th c., Constantinople)

Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor.

The classic icons of the Resurrection depict the Lord Jesus’ descent among the dead. In the icon, Christ stands astride the shattered gates of Sheol, surrounded by a mandorla that figures the depths of the divine life,   He grasps Adam and Eve by the hand, while other characters from the history of Israel—David and Solomon, Moses and Samuel—look on.  

In a rich meditation on the icons of the Resurrection, Rowan Williams suggests that they show “the effect of God’s action on human history up to that point, and, implicitly, the effect of God’s action on all history.” [1]  The icon dramatically depicts Christ’s liberation of human beings from the place of bondage and division into the peace of God.  “We are compulsive dividers, separators, and in these divisions we deny ourselves the life God is eager to give,” but Christ is “the one who bridged all these divisions.” [2]

The icons of the Resurrections, Williams suggests, fit with the theological vision of the great seventh-century Christian thinker, Maximus the Confessor, who “speaks of how every one of the great separations human beings have got used to is overcome in the person and the action and the suffering of Jesus”:

“The divide between man and woman, between paradise before the fall and the earth as we now know it, between heaven and earth, between the mind’s knowledge and the body’s experience, between creature and creator—all are overcome in the renewed humanity that Christ creates.” [3]  

So in the icons where we see Christ reaching out to both Adam and Eve, “it is as if he is reintroducing them to each other after the ages of alienation and bitterness that began with the recriminations of Genesis.  The resurrection is a moment in which human beings are reintroduced to each other across the gulf of mutual resentment and blame; a new human community becomes possible.” [4]  Christ stretches out his arms of love across all our divisions and gathers us into one new humanity, for “he is our peace” (Eph. 2:14). 

If the resurrection is “an introduction”, it is so “because the resurrection of Jesus brings us into friendship with the divine life itself”:

“It is because the uttermost of death and humiliation cannot break the bond between Jesus and the Father that what Jesus touches is touched by the Father too.  As he grasps Adam and Eve, so does the Father; as he draws together the immeasurable past with all its failures and injuries, it is the Father to whom he draws it.  Because of his relation with the Father , a new relation is made possible between ourselves and this final wellspring of divine life.  The Christ of this icon, standing on the bridge over darkness and emptiness, moving into the heart of human longing and incompletion, brings into that place the mystery out of which is life streams.” [5]

Thanks be to God, for “Christ’s love has gathered us into one,” congregavit nos in unum Christi amor. [6]

[1] Rowan Williams, The Dwelling of the Light: Praying with Icons of Christ (Eerdmans, 2003), p. 24.

[2] Ibid., p. 30.

[3] Ibid., pp. 30-31.

[4] Ibid., p. 31.

[5] Ibid., p. 40, 41.

[6] From the antiphon “Ubi caritas."

Paschal Meditation: Vicit agnus noster

Agnus Dei bas-relief, St. Euphrasius basilica, Croatia

Χριστὸς ἀνέστη ἐκ νεκρῶν,

θανάτῳ θάνατον πατήσας,

καὶ τοῖς ἐν τοῖς μνήμασι,

ζωὴν χαρισάμενος!

Christ is risen from the dead,

Trampling down death by death,

And upon those in the tombs

Bestowing life!

— Paschal troparion

“Death will be no more.”

— Rev. 21:4

Death will be no more, because our Lamb, “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered” (Rev. 5:5).  He has “trampled down death by death,” and by his blood he has “redeemed for God, from every family, language, people and nation, a kingdom of priests to serve our God.”  Jesus, “the faithful and true witness (martyr),” has conquered by his obedience unto death, from which he was raised as “the firstborn of the dead” (3:14, 1:4).  “Do not be afraid,” he says, “I am the first and the last, and the living one.  I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and Hades” (1:17b–18); “because I live, you also will live” (Jn. 14:19b).

Christ the Lamb has conquered death, but death has not yet been swallowed up forever (Isa. 25:7, 8; cf. 1 Cor. 15:54).  Death’s shadow is still spread over all the nations, and under it, tears stream down many faces; multitudes mourn and cry and suffer.  Thus it takes courage to wait for the salvation of the Lord (cf. Isa. 25:9), to maintain hope in the midst of devastation and violence.  Walking in the way of the Lord Jesus—who was hated by all who could not bear the blazing light of the truth—requires having the courage to become hated, and yet to love.  “In the world you face persecutions,” he told his disciples, “But take courage; I have conquered the world!” (Jn. 16:33).

Christ has conquered by emptying himself, by laying down his life for the world—in short, he has conquered by love.  Those who would follow him must follow him in love, must lay down their lives for the other.  For “we know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” (1 Jn. 3:16).  

Such courageous love—the love of “patient endurance” (Rev. 1:9), love that conquers* hatred and fear and injustice, love that “overcomes evil with good” (Rom. 12:21)—is born of the gift of the conquering Lamb.  He himself pours this love “into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that was given to us,” so that “we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Rom. 5:5, 8:37).  Through the gift of the Spirit by which he conquered death, Christ the Lamb adorns his bride, the holy city (Rev. 21:2).  Adorned in love, she already sings to him from whom nothing can separate her, “I love you, O Lord, my strength.”†

* Cf. Rev. 21:7, 2:7, 11, 17, 26, 28, 3:5, 12, 21.

† Rom. 8:39, Ps. 18:1.  Cf. Augustine, De civitate Dei 14.28.

Paschal Meditation: Mary and Thomas

"Do not hold on to me.” | “Reach out your hand and put it in my side." — John 20:17, 27

In the house, the risen Jesus came and stood among the disciples, spoke a word of peace, and told Thomas, “Reach out your hand and put it in my side” (Jn 20:27).  In the garden, Mary Magdalene saw the risen Jesus when she turned around, away from the tomb.  He spoke her name, drying her tears with his voice, and told her, “Do not hold on to me” (20:17).  Why does Jesus say, in effect, to Thomas, “Touch me,” but to Mary, “Touch me not”?

Noli me tangere, "The Queen Mary Psalter" (early 14th c.)

To Mary, Jesus explains, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father.”  He tells her not to cling to him, because he must be “taken away” (cf. 20:2, 13, 15) again.  (He had already been taken from her twice: once at his death, and again by being taken away from his tomb.)  She, who was standing near his cross and came weeping to his tomb, must not hold on to her Master, because he is going away.  He is going away, but she will hold on to him in faith.*  He is going away to prepare a place for her, and will come again and take her to himself, that where he is, there she may be also (14:2–3). 

But not her alone.  She will not take away for herself (20:15) “the faithful martyr” (Rev. 1:4), but she will be taken by him with all his own.  And not yet, not yet, because now Jesus sends her to bear witness to him (20:17).

Like her Lord, she is a faithful witness, telling the disciples what he told her (20:18). But they do not believe, until the Lord reveals himself to them (v. 20).  Likewise, Thomas, who still has not seen the risen Lord for himself, refuses to believe their testimony until he sees what they have seen—and going further—can even put his finger in the mark of the nails and his hand in the pierced side (v. 25).  (Is this a characteristic hyperbole from the disciple who brashly declared to the others, “Let us also go [with Jesus to Jerusalem], that we may die with him” (11:16), but was not with Jesus at his death?)

Doubting Thomas, Breviary, France (early 14th c.)

Jesus reveals himself to Thomas in the same way as to the other disciples: speaking peace (20:19, 26) and showing his wounds (vv. 20, 27).  The risen Lord even commands Thomas to do what he (Thomas) had demanded:  “Put your finger here...put [your hand] in my side” (v. 27).  And adds, “Do not be unbelieving, but believing.”  Does the Lord, in humbly granting what Thomas asks, lead Thomas to the humility of faith?  For we do not read that Thomas put his hand in the Lord’s side; rather, amazed, he responds with a cry of faith, “My Lord and my God!” (v. 28)  Thomas’ answer is like that of Job after the Lord answered his demands out of the whirlwind (Job 40:60), and Job responded, “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but not my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes” (42:5–6).

“Touch me,” Jesus tells Thomas; “Touch me not,” he tells Mary.  But he speaks one word to both:  "You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit (Jn. 15:16).  Do what I command you (15:14).  Love one another as I have loved you (15:12).  Follow me (21:22)!"

* Cf. Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 121.3.

Notes on Mary Magdalene

"Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’  She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher)."

John 20:16

"Noli me tangere," Exultet Roll, Abbey of Montecasino

I

"Then the disciples returned to their homes.  But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb" (John 20:10–11):  Whether or not she was the woman who washed Jesus' feet with her tears (Lk. 7:38), it is certainly true that she, "from whom seven demons had gone out" (8:2), loved much (7:47).  Mary Magdalene loved much; she was one of the few who followed Jesus to the end, and was standing near his cross when he died (Jn. 19:25).  She came early on the morning to his tomb because her grief was boundless at the loss of the one whom she loved much.

The ambiguous sign of the empty tomb could not console her.  It signified only a double loss, for no she no longer knew where the body of the one whom she had loved was laid (Jn. 20:2).

She loved much, and so she stood weeping because it was beyond hope that she would see the one she loved again.  So when she saw him, she did not recognize him, thinking only of how she could find the one who had been twice taken from her.

II

Ludwig Wittgenstein:  “Perhaps we can say: Only love can believe the Resurrection.  Or:  It is love that believes in the Resurrection.  We might say: Redeeming love believes even in the Resurrection; holds fast even to the Resurrection.  What combats doubt is, as it were, redemption.  Holding fast to this must be holding fast to that belief.  So what that means is: first you must be redeemed and hold on to your redemption (keep hold of your redemption)—then you will see that you are holding fast to this belief.  So this can come about only if you no longer rest your weight on the earth but suspend yourself from heaven.  Then everything will be different and it will be ‘no wonder’ if you can do things that you cannot do now"  (Culture and Value, 32).

III

Only when she is called by her name does she recognize the risen Jesus.  She knew his voice (Jn. 10:27), the voice of the one she followed with such great love, the voice of her Teacher (20:16).  She hears the voice of love, which says, "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine" (Isa. 43:1)—and she believes in the Resurrection.

"Death, thou shalt die."

Fr. Bill is a retired priest from the church I am interning at this summer.  He is in hospice and has Alzheimer's.  This afternoon, I went with a deacon to visit him and bring him Communion.  His wife greeted us, and we asked if Fr. Bill would like to receive Communion.  He was agitated when we got there, but she thought that he would appreciate it.  So we read the short service for "Communion in Special Circumstances," and the deacon put the Host in Fr. Bill's mouth.  He did not want it, and spit it out on the floor.  His wife gathered the chewed pieces up, saving them to try again later, and failing that, to bury them outside.  We finished the prayers with some difficulty, as he was becoming more agitated and mumbling incoherently. As we were saying goodbye, Fr. Bill opened his clear, blue eyes and looked straight at me, and so I introduced myself to him and he seemed to understand.  Then right before we left, he got very upset and his face contorted in an expression of anger and fear I will never forget.  "Damn, damn, damn," he kept murmuring. He quieted as his wife stroked his face and patted his chest.  She thanked us as we left the room.

Visiting Fr. Bill drove home to me the reality that death is an enemy.  The ravages of Alzheimer's--and sickness and suffering generally--are signs of death savaging the goodness of human life.  While in one sense, death is natural because humans are mortal creatures, the ways in which it arrays itself against human flourishing makes it an enemy.  St. Paul named death "the last enemy" (1 Cor 15:26).

But Christian hope is that, through Jesus' resurrection from the dead, death has been defeated, and on the last day, when the dead are raised to new life, it will be no more.  Death is an enemy, yes, but a vanquished enemy that will be destroyed (see 1 Cor 15:26, 54-55; Rev 21:3-4). As John Donne put it, "Death, thou shalt die." Death will be no more, precisely because of bodily resurrection; if only "the soul" survived death, then death would still be victorious over the body.  But resurrection hope insists that the body will be raised to a new, transformed life.  Christian hope insists on God's commitment to the whole person.

Resurrection hope is a sure and certain hope, proved by God raising Jesus from the dead.  Contrast this with the vain attempt to engineer a permanent life exemplified by "the Singularity Movement" so popular these days in Silicon Valley (see here).  Resurrection hope is certain because God is trustworthy.

Resurrection hope is good news.  Good news for people suffering from death's onslaught, people like Fr. Bill.  Alzheimer's remains devastating and horrifying, but it is not victorious.  Rather, because the living God has conquered death in and through Christ, Fr. Bill will live with Christ forever (Rom 6:3-11).

In the meantime, I mourn for Fr. Bill and his fear and pain and brokenness.

[NB: This post is cross-posted from my recent post on the Divinity Affinity blog.]