Forgiveness proves the Resurrection

What is the one thing more outlandish than claiming a crucified criminal rose gloriously from the dead?

Answer: Claiming that this man existed for one purpose: the forgiveness of sins.

Forgiveness, as doctrine and salutary practice, has been woven so deeply into the psyches of Westerners—believers and secularists alike—that we scarcely realize its absurdity among survival-of-the-fittest species. To forgive the sins of another, to exonerate a malefactor rather than resent him, is contrary to every Darwinian gene. When wronged to any degree, even to the pettiness of being cut off in traffic or skipped in line, anger instantly flushes our faces. We want justice restored instantly: we blare our horns, demand our place restored, and do so loudly so everyone can hear the indignity we have suffered and join us on the side of righteousness.

Greater indignities draw more intense reactions. Why forgive those who trespass against us, or against the laws of civil society? Murderers, rapists, thieves, abusers deserve not only punishment, but everlasting disdain. Human beings are rather skilled at holding grudges; to forgive contradicts that skill.

Yet Jesus of Nazareth put forgiveness at the very center of His preaching—a curious choice for a man trying to found a new religious movement. No religious leader nor pagan god had been so foolish before Him; no one had tried it, for it made no sense. Nevertheless, Jesus sat down on the mount and declared:

You have heard that it was said to the men of old, ‘You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother shall be liable to the council, and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ shall be liable to the hell of fire. (Matt 5:21-22).

He wasn’t done:

You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if any one would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. (Mt 5:38-41)

Those taking the coats of His Jewish listeners and forcing them into unpaid service were not well-intentioned but confused souls. They were their Roman oppressors.

It’s a teaching designed to win scores of converts: submit to those unjustly persecuting you, and love them and pray for them too. You will be repaid after you die—the most anti-Darwinian promise ever uttered.

The years passed and Jesus of Nazareth continued to preach forgiveness, which comes with love. To love God is the first and greatest commandment. “And a second is like it, You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mt 22:39). Yes, love your neighbor, who is every person you don’t like: the guy whose blasting music keeps you awake at night, the woman who is perpetually rude to you, the family with the “In this House We Believe” yard sign down the street.

This preposterous talk landed Jesus in hot water. Yet even as He was tortured to death, He did not deviate from His message: “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34). Surely this is normal talk for a man as nails pierce his hands and feet. And if, as some New Testament scholars allege, he did not really say this, there is no doubt that His bereft disciples would invent this saying to embellish their tale of a crucified God. The unsophisticated writers among them would see to it that the forgiving Jesus would be consistently portrayed from beginning to end.

Three days later, these disciples claimed to see the crucified one alive again. In His first appearance to all of them, He did not demand vengeance nor sing, “I told you so,” as any other man would. No. He picked up where He left off on the cross: “‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I send you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained’” (Jn 20:21-23).

God made human beings good, but the fall was deep. We can be incredibly rotten to the ones we are supposed to love most, we can deceive our way out of trouble and into fortune, we can do horrific things to others for no other reason than to exult in evil. We don’t deserve forgiveness. Yet God deigned to forgive us by suffering in the most incomprehensible way because His love is incomprehensible.

God’s forgiveness defies all human logic and imagination. “For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men,” writes St. Paul (1 Cor 1:25). No human being would ever build a religion upon forgiveness.

Jesus of Nazareth has done so. If He could do this most ridiculous thing and so convince His disciples of forgiveness’s centrality that they would pass on this fact while shedding their blood, then Jesus has to be God.

The resurrection of Jesus is not so outlandish after all. Forgiveness of sins, which the resurrection proves, is, in its own way, just as strange.