12 Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead?
13 If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised,
14 and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation is in vain and your faith is in vain.
15 We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ—whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised.
16 For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised.
17 If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile, and you are still in your sins.
18 Then those also who have died in Christ have perished.
19 If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.
20 But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died.
1 Corinthians 15:12-20, NRSVue
History has shown and recorded that when ancient or literary and modern societies begin to detest diversity and multiplicity but choose to focus instead on an “us vs. them” thinking, nothing appears as appropriate solution except the destruction of everything and the exclusion of everyone who is considered an outsider. When tolerance and acceptance is erased from our interactions with others, we are able to reduce or completely eliminate their humanity so that they become property or an acquisition that can be contested, ignored, exchanged, abandoned, or rejected when its use is no longer beneficial. Yet, time and again, voices and agents of faithful resistance have stood solidly against this targeted eradication to preach life against death and displacement. It is within multiplicity that we are able to foster the thriving of communities wholly.
In one of the lectionary selections for the week, Paul is analyzing the theory behind the foundational truth of the Gospel for the community of faith in Corinth; the death and life of the Christ, as well as those who believe in him, are all a product of God’s grace. Therefore, to combat loss (of faith), physical and spiritual death, displacement, and injustices of all kinds, our lives need to be grounded in the works of the Christ, in community with others. We are to love one another through impatience, hostility, and hopelessness. We are to preach peace, grace, and mercy to the disheartened and advocate for comprehensive borderlands which infuse hospitality and accessible healthcare policies. We are to fundamentally fight for those whose minds have dissociated from their bodies on account of an inadequacy to cope with their oppressive and unjust realities.
With each and every passing day, more world systems and (aspiring) imperial powers seem to be struggling with the ideal of fostering an identity that caters to the wellbeing of peoples and communities. Rather, it’s easier and more profitable to propagate exclusive systems of power, domination, displacement, and singularized identities which detest multiplicities. For those of us in the US, the early weeks of the new administration are behind us. Now, we have clear but even blurrier pictures of how long the nights will be for the next four years. The goals so far have been to spread political and systemic instability and uncertainties about the future of the other. Currently, there is weeping that endures longer than the night and creeps into the joys of the morning. There are discombobulations through constructed distractions that draw away from the griefs of the loss for numerous peoples and the continued targeted extractions of surplus. In his reading of the Exodus narrative, Kenneth Ngwa describes this form of consciousness as “singularity.” Singularity flourishes in spaces that abhor genuine tolerance of diversity, determined allyship across socioeconomic status, and resistance against theocracies and authoritarianism. Yet, it allows for baseless fearmongering and the promotion of the disadvantages of difference for the purpose of elimination.
Paul’s rich letters to them are spaced out into the largest canonized collection, with a total of twenty-nine chapters. Through the reports and rhetoric of Paul and those close to him, we easily learn that the ekklēsia in Corinth is a site of contestation and faithful collective resistance. From its very first chapter, the community is established as God’s church and the members are referred to as sanctified saints in Christ Jesus (1 Corinthians 1:2). But as Paul reports more on the actions, reactions, and interactions of these people, they become less sanctified subjects who have been called to live into the grace of God. Instead, they become like everyday people who are working through their faithful identity within a complex world of political systems of hierarchy. A world overtaken by the intricacies of imperial power, sociocultural distractions surrounding resource management, and the imbalances of socioeconomic status. The Corinthian ekklēsia models multicultural, mixed status, chaotic, and ever-shifting ways of presenting their theology and ideology for the present-day Church and God’s people.
1 Corinthians 15 reiterates that the hopeful message of the Gospel is the assertion that there is resurrection after death. For those who experience death, displacement, and all forms of oppressions while alive, the anticipation and possibilities of the power and grace of God to impart life into those who trust for better days is already fulfilled in the resurrection of the Christ. Christ is the definitive witness to this power which works to unravel systems of imperial violence and displacement. Faith is possible because the Christ lives on. In 1 Corinthians 15:3-4, Paul announces (in line with tradition) that the Christ died, was buried, and rose again on the third day. However, by 1 Corinthians 15:12, we see that there are contentions and contestations as to the truth of this vital element of the Christian tradition: “… how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead?” This contestation follows in line with most situations within which the people of God find themselves today. How can some of you constantly worry while believing by faith? How can you tolerate programmed chaos and uncertainty as the standard for living while consenting to being distracted from the goal of promoting life and thriving in community? How can you anticipate death each day without focusing on the pressing need for community development as you organize towards thorough collective resistance to injustices and oppressive policies?
As Paul reassures the Corinthians of the promise, the fulfilment, and the present witness to the resurrection power, he cautions against being swayed by the various untruths and misformation being peddled to them on the precise ways to navigate the practice of their faith. If what we have is only death and no resurrection, our lives are surely doomed to eternal condemnation, our hope is unfounded, and our faith is futile (1 Corinthians 15:17). While we continue to grieve the loss of human empathy, multicultural understanding, and the continued unraveling of the social fabric and contract via supremacist ideologies and innumerous capitalist channels of profit and extraction, all of our mourning would be in vain if it lacks faithful action towards justice.
Reimagining the boundaries surrounding just and merciful acts in times of political chaos and pressing death spans generations. Each and every time, the call has always been in favor of doing what the Lord requires of us all–to do what is good, always. Doing good can look like pooling resources together for instances of mutual aid when anyone around us is displaced from their homes, and/or jobs. It can also look like funding and ensuring the safety of underground movements that inspire and mobilize towards organizing physical and spiritual resistance against targeted violence, displacements, exploitations, extractions, and deaths.
In the essay (and exhibit) Us vs. Them: the Process of Othering for the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, Clint Curle discusses how othering functions in sociopolitical interactions. He argues that to act based on a privileged mentality of normativity is to contribute to the oppression of those who are marginalized based on their nominated difference. This process of othering then leads to the other two forms of consciousness identified by Ngwa–erasure and alienation. Systems of erasure and alienation function to eliminate the intersecting lines that bind us to ourselves as humans, in relation to all of God’s creations, including the earth. Instead, emphasis is placed on the extraction of worth, labor, productivity, wealth and all forms of material wealth for the benefit of a centered and absolute self. Likewise, displacement and (social) death are offered to those wishing to escape political and militaristic violence. The state never stops surveilling for the purpose of punishment and vicious retaliation.
One prominent thing that’s also being erased by the “us vs. them” logic is the persistent sense of loss that hasn’t been mitigated since the end of 2019, and which became pronounced in 2020. There hasn’t been a platform to acknowledge the fear, deaths, and various changes that have happened to many. Yet, systems and institutions demand that we continue to trudge forward like death wasn’t as close as it was to us all. Therefore, we keep moving on, as more deaths and increased possibilities of it happen on the grounds and in airspaces. Gail Holst-Warhaft warns that “if care is not taken, if grief is artificially inflamed or prolonged, or if the expected conclusion is never satisfactorily achieved, the temporary chaos of death and mourning can spill over into the society at large and threaten its stability.” But first, we need to acknowledge that there is a loss, whether it be about safety, lives, hopes, dreams, stability, and kindness. Only then can we make space for grief and mourning which may inspire us to action in solidarity with others around us.
We know, through our faith, that there is a resurrection after death (1 Corinthians 15:15-17). Indeed, our testimony is that the Christ was raised through the power and victory of God over the violence of the cross, inhumane death, injustices, displacements and exiles, and imperial autocratic powers. The tomb is empty because God’s power is able to overcome the grave of mourning, loss, and grief. What remains for us is the testament to a culture of resistance that knows that life continues in abundance. The triumph is in our continued proclamation of this act of justice. The resurrection is the ultimate story of the cross. The violence of the cross repeats in every historical cycle, economic system, policy changes, political instability – but God chooses, in an illogical way, to redeem this violence through the resurrection of the Christ. “But in fact, Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died” (1 Corinthians 15:20).
These devastating times and the repeated actions informed by the continued propagation of supremacist ideals may seek to drive us into hopelessness and inaction, but we know this is not the end. History reminds us that promoting an “us vs. them” thinking is destructive to all, including the earth. In accepting and tolerating difference, our bonds of kinship are further strengthened so that we are all able to thrive, promote justice, and ensure collective development. Our faithful resistance is inspired by knowing death is a distraction. The points of focus are life, justice, accessibility, care, mercy, equality, hope, hospitality, and all the many other ways we can live into the love of the Christ.
