In John Updike's A Month of Sundays there is a story that illustrates the absurdity of the the resurrection and maybe the story is more about beleif in it is a bit absurd: Clint Tidwell is the pastor of a church in a small Southern town, and one of his blessings and one of his curses is that the 80-year-old owner and still-active editor of the local newspaper is a member of his congregation. The blessing part is that this old journalist believes Tidwell to be one of the finest preachers around, and, wishing the whole town to benefit from this homiletical wisdom, he publishes a summary of Tidwell's Sunday sermon every Monday morning in the paper. The curse part is that this newspaperman, though well meaning, is a bit on the dotty and eccentric side, and Tidwell is often astonished to read the synopses of his sermons. The man owns the newspaper; nobody dares edit his columns, and the difference between what Tidwell thought he said and what the editor actually heard is often a source of profound amazement and embarrassment to Tidwell.

Tidwell's deepest amazement and embarrassment, however, came not when the newspaper editor misunderstood the Sunday sermon but, to the contrary, when he understood it all too sharply and clearly. It was early on the Monday morning after Easter, and Tidwell, in his bathrobe and slippers, was padding out the carport door to retrieve the Monday newspaper. The paper was lying at the end of the driveway, and, as Tidwell approached, he could see that the morning headline was in "second coming" sized type. What could it be? he wondered. Had war broken out somewhere? Had the local bank failed over the weekend? Had a cure for cancer been discovered? As he drew close enough to focus on the headline, he was startled to read the words, "Tidwell Claims Jesus Christ Rose From The Dead."

A red flush crept up Tidwell's neck. Yes, of course, he had claimed in yesterday's sermon that Christ rose from the dead, but golly, was that headline news? What would the neighbors think? I mean, you're supposed to say that on Easter, aren't you, that Christ rose from the dead, but that's not like saying that some person who died last week had risen from the grave, is it? Suddenly, as he looked at the screaming headline, what had been a routine Easter sermon had Tidwell feeling rather foolish.

Indeed, it is foolish the foolishness of the gospel. Those who gather on this Easter Day to sing and say that "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" do so not because we have proved anything philosophically, discerned some mystical key to the Scripture, or found some unassailable piece of historical evidence. We believe in the resurrection because the beloved disciple, the forerunner of all Easter faith, believed and passed the word along all the way into the present, prompting frail folks, like Tidwell and like us, to say what we believe: "I believe in Jesus Christ, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, dead and buried. He descended into hell -- and dare we believe it? Dare we wager everything on it? -- rose again on the third day."