Who Struck John?

It is one of the strange characteristics of the human species that we refuse to accept the reality of our own limitations. At one level this denial has led to most phenomenal human achievements. We continue to explore the limits of space, depth, speed, and microscopic life in ways unimagined a hundred years ago. Whether it is Hubble, Google, or the esoteric Large Hadron Collider, we are a phenomenal phenomenon.

So why, with all these achievements, do we refuse to let it end when we die? Why do we cling tenaciously to the notion of immortality without a shred of verifiable scientific and historical evidence? Why do we audaciously believe that we will live forever? In each and every lection set for this auspicious day on the Christian calendar, this idea of life beyond death is evident. The psalmist and Isaiah see life beyond the grave as a time for the righting wrongs suffered in this one.

Peter uses the resurrection mystery as God’s justification for the rejected truth of Jesus’ life and teaching, and Paul and the gospel writers fumble to try and present some account of this indescribable event. For third millennials such as us the haunting question still remains. Why the need for life beyond this? The proclamation of the Easter Scriptures does give some clues. We are overwhelmed by the unfairness of this life, and want to believe in recompense and justice for the oppressed. We also cannot accept that profound truths such as those evidenced in the life of Jesus of Nazareth can possibly die with him. If the Easter message and our own life experiences are correct, they don’t! He is Risen indeed.

That reminds me of a phrase I heard someone talk about. They said their Father used a curious turn of phrase when he doubted the veracity of a story told by either of his children. “Don’t give me any of that ‘Who Struck John,’” he would apparently drawl. It was an old-fashioned expression even then and was like so many things we hear in our childhood. I hadn’t ever heard the phrase myself and have no idea of its exact meaning. I derived its meaning from the context, as the person told me that their father most often used it to decry overstatements so great they had little basis in the truth.

“All the kids are doing it,” children will say. “All my friends are going,” your teenager may insist. We use hyperbole for effect; even children do it. When charming raconteurs or skilled politicians or clever salespeople employ it, we give in to the power of their words. If you don’t believe me, remember the last time you saw an advertisement for something you did not need but suddenly wanted badly. Don’t give me any of that “Who Struck John.”

It means something harsher than malarkey. It means, “I don’t believe you. That’s crap.” And that’s the response the women got from the disciples. Don’t come here with your phantasmagorical ravings. Don’t give us any of that bull. Don’t ask us to believe the impossible. The testimony of at least five women, trusted members of their

community, meant nothing to the men that day. Their testimony carried all the weight of a child’s exaggeration. Yet their testimony was true. And so I wonder, whose testimony do we ignore? Whose disregarded voices carry the truth of the Resurrection this Easter Sunday? Will we listen? Or will we dismiss them as so much “Who Struck John”?