Posted by on Sep 22, 2010 in Reflections | 3 comments



Descending Theology: The Resurrection

by Mary Karr


From the far star points of his pinned extremities,
cold inched in—black ice and squid ink—
till the hung flesh was empty.
Lonely in that void even for pain,
he missed his splintered feet,
the human stare buried in his face.
He ached for two hands made of meat
he could reach to the end of.
In the corpse’s core, the stone fist
of his heart began to bang
on the stiff chest’s door, and breath spilled
back into that battered shape. Now


it’s your limbs he comes to fill, as warm water
shatters at birth, rivering every way.


My 6th grader, Elijah, asked me yesterday what my favorite oxymoron is. "Tell me yours first I said," because I was only 90% sure I knew what that term meant (yes, I've gone ahead and accepted the fact our eleven and a half year old is smarter than me).   "The living dead," he answered.

"It's a good one," I had to admit. Not only because that particular  figure of speech follows to a tee the guideline of being "seemingly self-contradictory" but also because, when unlinked from its traditional "Zombie" association, that phrase conjures up in me wonder -  an awe of Mystery -at the "seemingly self-contradictory" elements of the Christian faith.

You see, I am in the process of dying, not to make sense of it all but TO LIVE.

"For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it." Matthew 16:25

Isn't it just so crazy to believe in the Resurrection, salvation, eternal life? Isn't Love itself ridiculous what with all that illogical sacrificing, forgiving, turning the other cheek? 


But in the words of Sarah Miles, one of the main characters in my favorite novel, The End of the Affair by Graham Greene:

 I’ve caught belief like a disease. I’ve fallen into belief like I fell in love.

It is certainly not my aim to prove anything to anyone - to pretend to know what none of us could ever know:  how the unfathomable mercy of God works (Mercy bigger than the stupidity of those on earth who attempt to put borders around it, who claim to  understand it). I'm just a frail soul all bound up in what I've come to embrace wholeheartedly (Foolishly? Perhaps. I Cor. 1: 27) as the entire Truth, the only Truth, the fullness of  Truth. "Why am I so repetitive with all this "Orthodoxy," "Resurrection,"  and "Christ" talk,  you ask?  Because, my friends, if I remained silent then the rocks would cry out (Luke 19:40).  I write and write and write about my faith, because my faith is all that matters.

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