Sunday, April 4, 2010

Resurrection Sunday

I'll admit I'm a sucker for symmetry. Black Saturday had an Unholy Sonnet, I've got to throw up something classic for Easter Sunday. 




Resurrection, Imperfect.
John Donne



Sleep, sleep, old sun, thou canst not have repass'd,
As yet, the wound thou took'st on Friday last ;
Sleep then, and rest ; the world may bear thy stay ;
A better sun rose before thee to-day ;
Who—not content to enlighten all that dwell
On the earth's face, as thou—enlighten'd hell,
And made the dark fires languish in that vale,
As at thy presence here our fires grow pale ;
Whose body, having walk'd on earth, and now
Hasting to heaven, would—that He might allow
Himself unto all stations, and fill all—
For these three days become a mineral.
He was all gold when He lay down, but rose
All tincture, and doth not alone dispose
Leaden and iron wills to good, but is
Of power to make e'en sinful flesh like his.
Had one of those, whose credulous piety
Thought that a soul one might discern and see
Go from a body, at this sepulchre been,
And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen,
He would have justly thought this body a soul,
If not of any man, yet of the whole.




I've always been curious where Jesus was for that long weekend. When I was a kid the Apostles' Creed read, "He descended into Hell." Later I found out a lot of Protestants change that to read, "He descended to the dead." But either way it's problematic: he had accepted the guilt and punishment for sin, but was he in Heaven, or Hell, or neither? Even the Catholic Church doesn't recognize Limbo as a concept anymore.


Usually when I bring this up the answer I get is a famous one, supposedly from St. Augustine (though the citation escapes me at the moment): "Hell is reserved for those who ask such questions." If that's true it must hold a lot of curious people.

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