The desire for immortality is a universal human longing. This message, sixth in a series on ‘Christian Apologetics’, given at St. Albans Presbyterian Church, Palmerston North, New Zealand, on 18 February 1996, relates these longings to the central Christian belief in the resurrection of the dead. Analogies in nature help us understand the glorious transformation that awaits us in the resurrection.
 

Nikos Kazantzakis, the Greek novelist, tells in his autobiographical work Report to Greco (London, Cassirer, 1960),about growing up on the island of Crete, situated in the Mediterranean Sea between three continents, Asia, Africa and Europe. As a child he used to play among and explore the ruins of the ancient Bronze-Age Minoan civilization at Knossos. He was fascinated by the shapes he found inscribed on the wall-frescoes of the ancient ruins: drawings of flying fish, silk worms, and butterflies. He often pondered their meaning:

• The flying fish, which for a brief moment of heroic endeavour, leaps out of its native environment, the ocean, and becomes airborne, transcending itself, as if aspiring to a higher, freer existence.

• The silkworm, which spins a cocoon of silk out of its own body, a single thread up to a thousand metres long, its great life’s work being to weave its own coffin before it climbs into it and dies, ‘taking up its cross’ as it were, as it follows some mysterious urge to die to itself, develop wings, and fly.

• The butterfly, glorious metamorphosis of the humble caterpillar, a mere grub which spreads its wings and becomes a creature of splendour in its next existence.

The Myth of the Phoenix

The phoenix was a fabulous mythical Arabian bird, said to be as large as an eagle, with brilliant scarlet and gold plumage and a melodious cry. It was said that only one phoenix existed at any one time, and it was very long-lived - no ancient sources gave it a life-span less than 500 years. As its end approached, the phoenix made a nest of aromatic branches and spices, set it on fire, and was consumed in the flames. From the ashes (according to some sources, from the midst of the flames) miraculously sprang a new phoenix.

The ancient Egyptians linked the myth of the phoenix with the longings for immortality that were so strong in their civilization, and from there its symbolism spread around the Mediterranean world of late antiquity. At the close of the first century Clement of Rome became the first Christian to interpret the myth of the phoenix as an allegory of the resurrection and of life after death. The phoenix was also compared to undying Rome, and it appears on the coinage of the late Roman Empire as a symbol of the Eternal City. (It was the sack of Rome by Alaric the Goth in 410 that led Augustine to write his City of God, in which he transferred the theme of the Eternal City to the Kingdom of God.)

Paul’s Analogy of the Seed

Paul, in 1 Corinthians 15, uses another analogy, that of a seed sowed in the ground, to make belief in the resurrection understandable to the sceptical among his readers. ‘How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?’ ‘A senseless question!’ is how the New English Bible translates Paul’s response. Paul suggests his opponent is thoughtless and unimaginative in not paying attention to the evidence around him in the world of nature: ‘What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain’ (1 Corinthians 15:36-37).

Jesus had used the same analogy, and interestingly enough, it was to explain the resurrection not to his fellow Jews, but to inquiring Greeks: ‘Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit’ (John 12 :24). Jesus’ emphasis is on the death: for there to be a harvest, the seed must be sown and die. ‘Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life’ (John 12:25).

In contrast, Paul’s emphasis is on the transformation brought about by the resurrection: the harvest to come is much greater than the seed which is planted. ‘What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body.’(1 Corinthians 15:42-44). The body that dies and is buried is a mortal body, with a dependent or created life. The body to be raised will be made alive with the life of the Spirit, a life that is divine or uncreated, an undying life.

The Limits and Uses of Analogy

As with Jesus’ parables, analogies from nature can help us grasp spiritual truth, provided we recognize the main point of comparison and are aware that all analogies have their limitations:

• The myth of the phoenix emphasizes continuity rather than change in the resurrection state: the mythical bird that rises in the ashes is the same one that perished in the flames. There will be a continuity of personal identity between our present life and the life to come.

• The image of the flying fish emphasizes difference more than continuity in the next life: in leaping out of the water, it seeks to transcend its native environment and enter an altogether new one. In the life to come we will experience an exhilarating freedom which far transcends the limitations of this present mortal life.

• The metaphor of the seed, and perhaps even more adequately the analogies of the silkworm and the butterfly, convey both the continuity and discontinuity between our present life and the life to come, with the accent falling on the change or metamorphosis which occurs: the lowly seed becomes a golden harvest, the humble caterpillar is transformed into a glorious butterfly. ‘I tell you a mystery,’ says the apostle Paul: ‘we will all be changed. . . . For . . . the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.’ (1 Corinthians 15:51-52).