35 But someone will say, “How are the dead raised? What kind of body will they have when they come back?” 36 Look, fool! When you put a seed into the ground, it doesn’t come back to life unless it dies. 37 What you put in the ground doesn’t have the shape that it will have, but it’s a bare grain of wheat or some other seed. 38 God gives it the sort of shape that he chooses, and he gives each of the seeds its own shape. 39 All flesh isn’t alike. Humans have one kind of flesh, animals have another kind of flesh, birds have another kind of flesh, and fish have another kind. 40 There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies. The heavenly bodies have one kind of glory, and the earthly bodies have another kind of glory. 41 The sun has one kind of glory, the moon has another kind of glory, and the stars have another kind of glory (but one star is different from another star in its glory).

42 It’s the same with the resurrection of the dead: a rotting body is put into the ground, but what is raised won’t ever decay. 43 It’s degraded when it’s put into the ground, but it’s raised in glory. It’s weak when it’s put into the ground, but it’s raised in power. 44 It’s a physical body when it’s put into the ground, but it’s raised as a spiritual body. If there’s a physical body, there’s also a spiritual body. 45 So it is also written, The first human, Adam, became a living person, and the last Adam became a spirit that gives life. 46 But the physical body comes first, not the spiritual one—the spiritual body comes afterward. 47 The first human was from the earth made from dust; the second human is from heaven. 48 The nature of the person made of dust is shared by people who are made of dust, and the nature of the heavenly person is shared by heavenly people. 49 We will look like the heavenly person in the same way as we have looked like the person made from dust.

50 This is what I’m saying, brothers and sisters: Flesh and blood can’t inherit God’s kingdom. Something that rots can’t inherit something that doesn’t decay.

1 Corinthians 15:35-50

Written and Preached by Taylor Buckner

Scriptural Context

Over the past few weeks, we have studied a few sections of scripture from 1 Corinthians, so you might already have a bit of context for the scripture we’re looking at today. The book of 1 Corinthians is a letter written by the apostle Paul to the newly founded church in Corinth. Paul’s goal with this letter is to clarify some confusions of the Corinthians and help unify the early Church in it’s beliefs. Chapter 15 is where Paul begins to discuss the topic of resurrection, first addressing the resurrection of Christ and then the resurrection to come. Today’s scripture, beginning at verse 35, directs us towards the resurrection of the body. The Corinthians want to know what resurrection means for them in a physical sense.

Culture

35 But someone will say, “How are the dead raised? What kind of body will they have when they come back?”

For those of us who have grown up in the Christian tradition, resurrection is a familiar concept. Even if we don’t have a total grasp of what it means or how it happens, resurrection is a common topic of discussion--we have it in our minds and our vocabulary. But if you try to strike up a conversation with a stranger about resurrection, they might just think you’re crazy. That’s kind of what we see happening in today’s scripture with the church in Corinth.

Many of the church’s early members and apostles came from Jewish backgrounds where resurrection of the dead was a core doctrine, and the teachings of the early Christian church centered around Jesus’ resurrection. For the Corinthians, though, resurrection was an unfamiliar idea that they approached with confusion. The question “how are the dead raised?” could better be understood as the Corinthians asking “how is resurrection possible?”

Before digging too deeply into the idea of resurrection, I’d just like to talk about bodies--living bodies and dead bodies. Because the way we feel about physical bodies affects our openness to the idea of a bodily resurrection. Let’s consider the view of the physical body in the Jewish and Corinthian traditions:

Jewish Tradition

• Body sanctification

• Integration of body and soul

• Law governing food, body, physical life

• Religious community is highly involved in funeral and burial

• Washing and preparation

• Body wrapped in shroud (unfinished wood casket if necessary) and placed directly into the earth

• Quick and natural return of the body to dust, no embalming or cremation

Corinthian Tradition (Hellenistic)

• Mind-body dualism

• Separation of mind and body

• The body as a prison, mind good, body bad

• Spiritual leaders were not involved in the funeral and burial process because they believed the spiritual world could become tainted by death

• Tile and limestone for graves, sarcophagi, chamber tombs

• Cremation was also common

“The view of radical dualism sees the body as corrupt and separate from oneself, while the view of sanctification sees the body as holy, worthy of respect, and integral to one's being.” (Jacobson) In simple terms, we could say that the Corinthian/Hellenistic tradition promotes body shaming while the Jewish/early Christian traditions promotes body positivity. The Corinthians’ struggle to accept the teaching of bodily resurrection is understandable. If they’re accustomed to viewing their bodies as prisons, as something bad that places limitations on their existence, death of the body offers freedom from imprisonment.

To be honest, sometimes a body can feel like a prison. Our bodies don’t always move the way we want them to, they get hurt, they feel pain. We spend time maintaining our bodies, cleaning them, and nursing them back to health only for them to fall ill again. At times, we might wish for an existence that didn’t include hauling around the meat bags that are our bodies.

Within Paul’s writings, there are suggestions that he feels similarly about his own body. In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul speaks of an affliction he has. He calls it a “thorn in the flesh,'' and scholars continue to debate about what this affliction might have been, whether it was a physical injury or some other hardship. Paul describes the torment caused by this thorn in his flesh and the weakness he has experienced because of it. Paul grew up in a Jewish family where he theoretically would have held the traditional Jewish view of body sanctification, but we also see him write about his body with disdain.

The thing we need to understand about Paul is that he serves as sort of a link between the Hellentistic and Jewish worldviews. Paul was born in Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) to a family of Pharisees. It is believed that his first language was Greek, but he was educated in Jerusalem from a young age and spoke Hebrew as well. While on his missionary journeys, Paul learned from Hellenistic philosophers and drew on this knowledge to help new converts understand his teachings.

Here in today’s scripture, Paul is trying to help the Corinthians understand his teaching of the resurrected body. He starts out with a metaphor about seeds. You can find a more in-depth analysis of the first part of our scripture in the weekly email from Thursday if you’re interested. In my writing, I reframed the metaphor in the context of baking bread, but the premise remains the same. In Paul’s farming metaphor, we sow a seed, and although we anticipate its growth, we rely on God’s transforming power to turn it into a plant. In baking, we prepare a dough based on how we want our bread to turn out, but we practice patience, trust that our dough will rise, and rely on a transformative process that is out of our control.

After his metaphor, Paul continues:

“42 It’s the same with the resurrection of the dead: a rotting body is put into the ground, but what is raised won’t ever decay. 43 It’s degraded when it’s put into the ground, but it’s raised in glory. It’s weak when it’s put into the ground, but it’s raised in power. 44 It’s a physical body when it’s put into the ground, but it’s raised as a spiritual body. If there’s a physical body, there’s also a spiritual body.” (CEB)

Resurrection is an unfamiliar idea for the Corinthians. They can’t imagine what a resurrected body could be like, but Paul offers a few straightforward comparisons to consider. The Corinthians can agree that a dead body put into the ground is rotting, degraded, and weak. Paul contrasts this with the resurrected body that won’t decay and is raised in glory and power. He meets the Corinthians where they are in their beliefs about the physical body being a weakness. The fear of weakness is what makes the Corinthians hesitant about accepting the doctrine of resurrection.

Can we see the Corinthians' fear and skepticism reflected in modern times? According to a 2021 survey by the Pew Research Center, approximately 80% of Americans believe in some form of afterlife. We see a wide range of beliefs about the afterlife including heaven, hell, reincarnation, eternal spiritual existence separate from the physical world, and many more. Reincarnation is one afterlife belief that does revolve around the physical body, the process where the body returns to the earth to then become a new physical body. But most beliefs about the afterlife point to something separate from the physical world that we know. Even if we don’t necessarily view our bodies as prisons, humanity maintains a common thread of hope for something more than this physical life after death.

The Corinthians were not the only people hoping to escape the weakness of their flesh. Paul spoke personally about the weakness he’d felt, and he speaks to the weakness that we each experience. As I read Paul’s discourse here about the weakness of the physical body and power of the spiritual body, I can’t help but think also of Paul's writing about the thorn in his flesh. He explains in 2 Corinthians how he had pleaded with the Lord to remove his affliction but ultimately reframed his weakness into power:

“[The Lord] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ So I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses...for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10, NRSV)

Our weakness, rather than being a separation between us and God, can be reframed as an opportunity to experience God’s power. Human weakness is the dwelling place of God’s presence. It’s only by recognizing weakness that we hope for something more.

Paul continues his explanation of resurrection to the Corinthians:

“45 So it is also written, The first human, Adam, became a living person, and the last Adam became a spirit that gives life. 46 But the physical body comes first, not the spiritual one—the spiritual body comes afterward. 47 The first human was from the earth made from dust; the second human is from heaven. 48 The nature of the person made of dust is shared by people who are made of dust, and the nature of the heavenly person is shared by heavenly people. 49 We will look like the heavenly person in the same way as we have looked like the person made from dust.” (CEB)

When Paul uses the terms “flesh” and “body” in contrast to “spirit,” we could assume that he is referring to literal flesh and the physical body. But some scholars argue that when Paul writes about “flesh” he means not the physical body but the sinful human nature inherited from Adam (Clark). Rather than discussing a body made of flesh, we might consider a body animated by flesh, or sin. For the one body is animated by the sin nature, and the other body animated by new life in the spirit. Paul says that “the nature of the person made of dust is shared by people who are made of dust” (verse 48a), and we can see sinful human nature reflected within ourselves. But these bodies animated by sinful flesh give us hope of a new body, one that reflects the heavenly.

I wonder what it might mean for our bodies to be animated by the Holy Spirit. Paul describes the last Adam, Christ, as a life-giving spirit. Knowing that the Holy Spirit is among us now might “open the way to a perception of the present realities of resurrection in the present age and in this mortal body” (Sloan) Resurrection will bring us into a new order, but “the transformation to the new order actually begins now by the power” of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us (Sloan). In our earthly, human weakness, the Holy Spirit makes its home. It stirs life and hope into us and begins transforming us. Our bodies retain their shape, but we are transformed with Christ in our hearts.

When we think about resurrection, we generally put our hope in the future, a transformation that is to come. But the truth is that we have already begun to be transformed. When we allow the Holy Spirit to guide our lives, our weakness becomes power, our degradation becomes glory, and our mortality becomes immortal. We hope in the glory of our resurrected spiritual bodies because we can already see the goodness of the Holy Spirit at work in our earthly bodies. If we can see the life-giving work of the Spirit dwelling in our human weakness, we can only imagine the possibilities of a new order with bodies fully animated by the Holy Spirit.

Paul concludes this section of his letter:

“50 This is what I’m saying, brothers and sisters: Flesh and blood can’t inherit God’s kingdom. Something that rots can’t inherit something that doesn’t decay.” (CEB)

Our weakness and decay cannot inherit God’s kingdom, but we have hope because we know that we are much more than our human frailty. Our bodies have reflected the image of the person made of dust, but our hearts have been transformed already to reflect the heavenly. We hope in the resurrection, not as a future escape from our weakness, but trusting in the transformative process of the Holy Spirit that is already at work in our lives now.

Gordon Clark, Thales to Dewey (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1957). Quoted in Ronald H. Nash, Christianity and the Hellenistic World (Dallas: Probe Ministries, 1984).

Jacobson HL, Hall ME, Anderson TL, Willingham MM. Temple or Prison: Religious Beliefs and Attitudes Toward the Body. J Relig Health. 2016 Dec;55(6):2154-73.

Sloan, Robert B. "Resurrection in I Corinthians." Southwestern Journal of Theology , vol. 26.1, 1983, pp. 69-91.

‘Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,

for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.

He has raised up a mighty savior for us

in the house of his servant David,

as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,

that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.

Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,

and has remembered his holy covenant,

the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,

to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,

might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness

before him all our days.

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;

for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

to give knowledge of salvation to his people

by the forgiveness of their sins.

By the tender mercy of our God,

the dawn from on high will break upon us,

to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the way of peace.’

Luke 1:68-79

This is a story about parents and children.  Therefore, it should have neon lights surrounding it, flashing, “Warning!”

I am not so naive to believe that our stories about parents and children are simple.  Of all that we experience in life, it is how we engage with these immediate family members that can create the highest highs as well as the deepest wounds.  I will attempt to tread lightly, knowing that you hold complexity in your life.  These may not be easy stories to hear or tell.

What a curious thing that in our worship of God we recognize a parent/child relationship.  Our understanding of God holds both God the parent and Christ the child.  There is sacredness in this season where we remember mothers, parents, and tiny babies.  

There is also power in these stories that tell of where we come from, our ancestors.  There is power in these stories that tell of where we are going, our children.  Zechariah’s benediction is a lightning rod for this moment of being deeply grounded in the past and yet widely open to the future.  It is a moment of glimpsing a truth that is too hard for us to see on our own--God’s presence spans generations.  God holds the realities of the past and the possibilities of the future. 

Zechariah speaks a word for us into the midst of family realities. Zechariah’s benediction is one that is spoken like a proud dad.  He is so hopeful!  His tongue has been loosed to speak of this story about how God’s goodness will continue after all.  It wasn’t to stop with his generation, but was to continue with this next generation.  His son John was to be born, and then that other child who would change things: Jesus.  

There is no way Zechariah could’ve known what was to come.  I actually hope he didn’t, because the story of these children is not a happy one.  Zechariah’s son, John the Baptist followed the wildness of his message the whole way to persecution and death.  Jesus didn’t remain a peaceful child, but stirred up trouble in the very temple setting that Zechariah so faithfully served.  

It is hard to know that this is not a perfectly tidy story, but it also might be reassuring.  If this is how God is made known to us, how too must our messy stories of parents and children be blessed.  

Zechariah’s blessing and benediction for us is not only for what is easily contained and explained.  Rather, the opposite. 

I think of my ancestors.  I wouldn’t have to dig back very far for things to fall apart in ways that some of you might recognize.  My ancestors, those who relayed God’s faithfulness to me, as near as the generations of my grandparents, would likely be completely flabbergasted by where I am now.  I am an ordained pastor, even as I am a woman.  I am serving a church that loves and affirms all expressions of gender and sexuality.  We are a congregation that has both Black and white folks.  Just this moment of being present here right now would be so far beyond my ancestors' wildest dreams.  And I am not foolish enough to believe that they would be thrilled about it either.  And yet!  How the Spirit has guided me here, how God has sent each generation forth, how the world continues to be broken open again and again and again.

It’s like the stories of how churches will baptize children, confirm youth, and then they are sent forth and we have no control over what happens next.  Often this is spoken of as if it’s a bad thing--where have all the children gone!  But God has not abandoned them.  I think of the many people I know who refused to support a church that wouldn’t support them in return, of how new generations stand up against religious hypocrisy, of all who aren’t satisfied with half-hearted change.  

I dearly hope that the generations will be more than I can imagine.  I hope they have the challenge and wildness of John the Baptist.  I hope they push at their parents because they have a glimpse of the world to come.  I hope we can be courageous enough to receive them.  

This song of Zechariah is called the Benedictus, because when this passage was translated in Latin that was the first word of the song.  We know the word in what we call a benediction, which of course, to bring it full circle, is a blessing.  It’s a blessing in two parts, really.  Because first, it looks up--blessed are you, Lord!  But then it looks down, blessed are you, child.  

It’s the space between these blessings that we dwell.  Between past and present, between what is tangible and unknown, between reality and possibility.  If you have ever held a child, perhaps you have known this moment of transcendence.  This is a blessing to live faithfully in that moment.

It is hard for us to know fully where we come form. We certainly do not know where we are going. But with the love of God that spans generations, let us be held in peace.

So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.

Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger,

and do not make room for the devil.

Ephesians 4:25-27

Have you noticed that people are really angry lately?

Here are a few examples:

1. Vaccinated folks at the unvaccinated

2. Spirit airline folks--lots of cancelled flights!

3. The news is mad at … everyone?

In particular, we’re good at a hot, fast anger.  You’ve got to be explosive to cut into the media deluge.  It’s outrage, it’s cancel culture, it’s an entire planet traumatized by a virus that has killed millions, it’s the frustration of being alive.

If you want to take this scripture and do a hot take, you can have a pretty tidy takeaway here in just 20 seconds.  We’re mad, but the bible says, do not let the sun go down on your anger, so there you have it. 

As with many things, if we take this slower and sit a little longer we get a fuller picture.  Pause your outrage brain and let’s look again.  

I’ve only picked out three verses for us today, but the whole of Ephesians can hold this type of meaning.  Sometimes when we read scripture we can read wide, inhaling long story epics or entire letters at once.  But sometimes we can just look at a small snippet and find depth.  We could start in the middle with that famous phrase, “do not let the sun go down on your anger.”

Alone, there is such beauty and truth to this.  I had a practice toward the end of my school career where I didn’t do any homework or writing after dark.  This was a commitment in winter months, but it always gave me this boundary where I could step aside and unwind before rest and beginning a new day.  To not let the sun go down on your anger is an old version of new advice--don’t go doom scrolling on Twitter when you’re trying to sleep.  Don’t read news headlines right before bed.  Don’t drink coffee at 9:00pm.

Yet our scripture is so beautiful and rich because it doesn’t stop there.  The beginning of that same sentence actually begins, “be angry.”  Which, you know, is a fairly honest and realistic place to begin.  I know I can start there.  And yet, there is a boundary around this anger that is so helpful.  It says, “be angry, but do not sin.”  There is so much just in that phrase!  Because this seems to indicate that there is anger that is no sinful, but anger that is tied with something else that becomes sinful.  Something to ponder.

On the other end of our “don’t let the sun go down on your anger” we have another great bookend that says, “and do not make room for the devil.”

And listen, I do not entirely know what this means!  I know there was a period in my life where I often heard the opposite, that when a couple was dancing too close together, they were supposed to leave room for Jesus.  But we do not leave the same room for the devil?

Yet I do understand on some level what it might mean for anger to leave the door open to results that I do not want to claim long term.  Do not make room, do not make space, do not widen the door.  Keep it locked up.  

We’ve also got this wonderful introductory verse to this whole thing.  “So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.”  Now this really sets the stage for all this anger talk, because our anger, or our management of our anger, still has to live in the context of truth-telling.  We cannot simply just hide away all of our feelings if it means we are not being honest with those who are our neighbors.  This is because we belong to one another, we are members of one another.  We are connected in Christ.  

I could riff on these three verses all day.  That’s the depth we can get in our scripture.  That alone is such an antidote to the fast outrage and anger that swallows us in singularity.  This is the careful building and adapting and growing of a community that finds its identity in Christ. 

I recently had someone ask me when I knew I wanted to marry my spouse Josh.  I remember when Josh and I started dating, how I would be checking my phone for messages from him when I woke up.  I remember wanting to know more about what he was thinking when I could see him across the room.  I remember how kind he seemed.  

I don’t remember when I knew I wanted to marry him though.  There was no flash, no instant moment.  It was never that I didn’t want to marry him and then I did.  But it was built over time, through walks and hand holding, through families shared and dinners and conversations.  It wasn’t urgent, it was inevitable. 

May our Christianity be the same.  We are pulled so hard to the hot take, to the immediate reaction.  We are pulled apart in isolation, into an identity that is self-centered and lonely.  But in Christ, we see a way that has complex feelings, anger that is identified but not sustained relentlessly.  We see a world in which we belong to one another.  We find wisdom in slowness.  We speak truth.

Remember who you are and whose you are.  Go with God.  Amen.

You might think that it was the four walls that made the gathering special.  It’s right there in the opening lines--they were all gathered in one place.  Imagine, a whole crowd of people packed into a room.  Four walls, hugging them in, creating that magic that comes from human bodies existing, living, breathing in the same place.  

I remember those times.  Bringing people together, gathering, getting close enough to see and hear one another.  

You might think that it was the four walls that made this first Pentecost special, but that wasn’t it. We might idealize those up close and personal get-togethers after this year plus of distance.  We might still be missing those times that we can all be under one roof, but don’t forget that there can be emptiness there, too.  

These members of the early church can tell you, so much if you can get together in one place, but what if you can’t understand one another?  What’s the meaning of being together if there is no communication, no sharing, no life?

It wasn’t the four walls that gave life to the first Pentecost.  It was the movement and power and presence of the Holy Spirit. 

I know that because it has not been these four walls that have given us life this year.  It has not been this building, or even that we are gathering in one physical space.  But we have had life!  We have seen and felt the movement of the Holy Spirit.  We don’t need to worship these walls.  We need to worship the Holy Spirit.

I mean, it would be easier to praise the location.  Imagine if we could just return to the site of the first Pentecost, or return to our building, or return to a magical location where we could be certain of God’s presence and blessing.  Maybe this is a bad message for the day in which I’m hoping many of you will help tidy and clean our physical building right here.  Yet our scriptures tell the story again and again of a God that is on the move, of the Christ who didn’t stay put, and the Spirit who moves and breathes among us today. 

You cannot limit the Spirit to four walls.  

Today, on this first of many Sundays that we will be worshipping outdoors, I celebrate that.  I celebrate that our worship has changed to be even beyond this space, to welcome all who are connecting online.  I celebrate that today is the birthday of the Church of Jesus Christ--a living, moving, breathing body that has never seen fit to stay in one place or speak in one language, or maintain a single way of being.  

The church is alive because the Spirit is alive in our midst.  It is our responsibility to recognize and respond to this life.  

There is a line tucked into the ending of the Pentecost scripture that could be written for us today.  It says that the saving message of Jesus Christ is for “you and for all who are far off.”  These words could not have imagined their resonance as they have travelled around the world to find us here in Bedford, Ohio, to find us in Florida, in Illinois, in Georgia, and more.  

Today let us not celebrate these four walls.  Let us instead celebrate the Holy Spirit.