Christ Rose in the Flesh

True enough, they say — but the flesh is a sinner, and such a sinner that it drags the soul into sinning along with it. So they bring their groundless charge against it and load onto it alone the sins of both. But in what case could the flesh possibly sin by itself, without the soul going ahead of it and urging it on? Take a yoked pair of oxen: unhitch either one from the yoke, and neither can plow alone. In the same way, neither soul nor body can accomplish anything by itself once the two are unyoked from their partnership. And if it really is the flesh that is the sinner, then it was for the flesh alone that the Savior came, since he says, “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” So, since the flesh has been shown to be precious in God’s sight, and more glorious than anything else he made, it would be entirely just for him to save it. [a]

We have to answer, then, those who say that even if the flesh is God’s own special handiwork, valued by him above everything else, it does not follow from that alone that it has been promised the resurrection. But is it not absurd that a thing made with such care, a thing more valuable than anything else, should be so neglected by its Maker that it passes into nothing? A sculptor or a painter who wants his work to last, so that he may win fame by it, restores it as soon as it starts to decay. Would God then so neglect what he owns and made that it is wiped out and no longer exists? Would we not call that wasted labor? Suppose a man built a house and at once tore it down, or watched it fall into ruin and left it there when he could have repaired it — we would blame him for laboring for nothing. And are we to lay that blame on God? But the Imperishable One is not like that, and the Mind of the universe is not senseless. Let the unbelievers keep quiet, even if they will not believe.

In fact he has called the flesh itself to the resurrection, and promises it everlasting life. Where he promises to save a human being, there he gives the promise to the flesh. For what is a human being except a reasoning creature made up of body and soul? Is the soul by itself the human being? No — it is the soul of a human being. Would you call the body the human being? No; you call it the body of a human being. If neither of them by itself is the human being, and only the two together are called that, and God has called the human being to life and resurrection, then he has called not a part but the whole, which is soul and body. Would it not be plainly absurd, when these two are in the same being and under the same law, for the one to be saved and not the other?

And if it is not impossible, as has already been proved, for the flesh to be brought into being again, on what ground do they draw the line, so that the soul is saved and the body is not? Do they make God stingy? But he is good, and wants everyone to be saved. It was by God and by his own announcement that your soul heard and believed in Jesus Christ — and the flesh along with it. Both were washed, and both did what is right. So they make God ungrateful and unjust if, when both have believed in him, he wants to save the one and not the other.

Ah, but they say the soul cannot perish, since it is a part of God and was breathed into us by him, and so he wants to save what is peculiarly his own and akin to himself, while the flesh can perish and does not come from him as the soul does. Then what thanks does he deserve, and what display of his power and goodness is it, if he set out to save something that is saved by its own nature and exists as a part of himself? It would have had its salvation from itself, so that in saving the soul God does nothing great. Being saved is simply where its nature was always going, since it is a part of him, being his own breath. But no one earns thanks for saving what belongs to him; that is saving himself. A man who saves a part of himself is rescuing himself by his own means, so as not to be left defective in that part — and that is not the act of a good man.

We do not even call a man good for treating his own children and offspring well; the most savage of wild animals do that much, and will willingly die for their cubs if they have to. But if a man did the same for his slaves, we would rightly call him good. That is why the Savior taught us to love our enemies. He asks, “What credit is that to you?” So he has shown us that it is a good work to love not only those born of him but also those outside. And what he tells us to do, he does first himself.

If he had no use for the flesh, why did he heal it? And here is the strongest point of all: he raised the dead. Why? Was it not to show what the resurrection would be? And how did he raise them — their souls, or their bodies? Plainly both. If the resurrection were a matter of the spirit only, then in raising the dead he ought to have shown the body lying apart by itself and the soul living apart by itself. But that is not what he did. He raised the body, and confirmed in it the promise of life. And why did he rise in the same flesh in which he suffered, unless to show the resurrection of the flesh? [h]

Wanting to settle this, when his disciples did not know whether to believe he had truly risen in the body, and stood looking at him and doubting, he said to them, “You do not have faith yet. See that it is I.” And he let them handle him, and showed them the marks of the nails in his hands. When every kind of proof had convinced them that it was himself, and in the body, they asked him to eat with them, so that they could be surer still that he had really risen bodily; and he ate honeycomb and fish. So when he had shown them that there is a true resurrection of the flesh, and wanting to show them this as well, that it is not impossible for flesh to go up into heaven — since he had said that our home is in heaven — “he was taken up into heaven while they watched,” still in the flesh.

If, after everything that has been said, anyone still demands a demonstration of the resurrection, he is no different from the Sadducees. For the resurrection of the flesh is the power of God; it is beyond all reasoning, and it is established by faith and seen in what it does.

The resurrection is a resurrection of the flesh, which is the thing that died. The spirit does not die. The soul is in the body, and without a soul the body cannot live; when the soul leaves it, the body is not there at all. For the body is the house of the soul, and the soul is the house of the spirit. All three will be saved in everyone who holds an honest hope and an unwavering faith in God. [k]

So we have weighed even the kind of arguments that suit this world, and found that on those very terms it is not impossible for the flesh to be brought into being again; and on top of all these proofs, the Savior shows throughout the good news that there is salvation for the flesh. Why then do we go on putting up with those faithless and dangerous arguments? Why do we not see that we are going backwards when we listen to a claim like this: that the soul is immortal but the body mortal, and cannot be brought back to life? We used to hear that from Pythagoras and Plato before we ever learned the truth. If the Savior said the same, and announced salvation for the soul alone, what new thing did he bring us beyond what we heard from Pythagoras and Plato and their whole company? But as it is, he has come announcing the good news of a new and strange hope for people. For it really was a strange and new thing for God to promise that he would not keep the imperishable imperishable, but would make the perishable imperishable.

But because the ruler of wickedness had no other way to corrupt the truth, he sent out apostles of his own — evil men who brought in diseased teachings — choosing them from among those who crucified our Savior. These men carried the Savior’s name but did the work of the one who sent them, and through them the name itself has been spoken against.

But if the flesh does not rise, why is it guarded at all? Why do we not simply let it have whatever it craves? Why do we not copy the doctors, who, they say, let a patient they have given up on, one past curing, indulge his cravings? They do it because they know he is dying. And that is exactly what the people who hate the flesh are doing: they are throwing it out of its inheritance as far as they are able, and they despise it for this very reason, that it will shortly be a corpse. But if our physician, Christ, who is God, has rescued us from our cravings and governs our flesh by his own wise and self-controlled rule, then it is clear that he guards it from sins because it has a hope of salvation — just as doctors do not let a patient they expect to save indulge in whatever pleasures he likes.