A Griceian Easter

Speranza

The Romance Languages (unlike, say, English) use a root for "Easter" that
is actually Hebrew, and supposed to mean 'transition'. The first Christians
found it difficult to apply the SAME conceptual analysis for 'transition'
in the  Old Testament to 'transition' in the New Testament, but the Apostles
(twelve of  them, see Quine, "Methods of Logic", for the logical form of
"The Apostles were  twelve") constantly made this reference to 'pasqua'-1 as
used in the Old  Testament and 'pasqua-2' as used in the New Testament. They
were being Griceian,  of course ("Do not multiply the sense of 'pasqua'
beyond necessity"). To specify  the _Christian_ way of using, a collocation is
needed, and 'pasqua' "of  resurrection" is used. English is a completely
different animal here.

Since Grice was C. of E., the English roots for "Easter" and the invited
implicatures of "Happy Easter!" (cfr. "Buona pasqua!") need to be  explored.

We are considering not just Grice (C. of E.) but Popper (not C. of E.). The
empty tomb, did it prove that Jesus had resurrected? Does

i. Jesus's tomb is empty.

FALSIFIES?


This Griceian Easter! (And we skipped, the
problem-solving strategies vs. conceptual analyses used by  Patrick to banish
the serpents not long ago).


I would take

i. Jesus's tomb is empty.

as observational. It is, granted, negative in essence, and the use of  "~"
needs to be used. Umberto Eco would say more about this, but he forbade to
speak of him for some years! ("Jesus's corpse was eaten by jackals; he
didn't  resurrect," some sceptics then claimed).


Mutatis mutandis,

i. See: Jesus's tomb is empty.

Popper once said that in a class to students of physics, he said to  them:

ii. Observe!

Popper says that (ii) is meaningless. "My students wanted to know WHAT to
observe." Popper invites with this the implicature that observation is
theory-laden (to speak figuratively).



Hence my point as to (i) can become a falsifier.

Tertuliano once said that he believed that p because he found that p was
absurd. And Aquinas, an Italian, later would say that philosophy is merely
the  'ancilla' of philosophy. So this is serious!

And I met one theologian who said schatology is a science (Cfr. Grice,
"Philosophical Eschatology -- from Genesis to Revelation").

But (i), "Jesus's tomb is emtpy" is OBSERVATIONAL, if not theory-laden.

Well, the theory here is the theory of resurrection. Let's symbolise it as
Tr. Why did Ayer, a logical positivist, thought that all theological
discourse  was unverifiable? And would Popper go on to say that, as per McEvoy's
'witch  ducking stool', it is irrefutable, and thus essentially and
ultimately  metaphysical?

'Empty' in analysing
'Jesus's tomb is empty'
may be a trick.


As in eschatology. Because there may be various explanations why (i) is
true -- Jesus's tomb is empty, say, not because he resurrected but because his
corpse was eaten by jackals.

Do not multiply the uses of 'scientific' beyond necessity? Why is
theological eschatology not a science in Popper's view? Why is even Grice's
PHILOSOPHICAL eschatology (the study of transcategorial predication) not
'scientific' in Popper's use of the adjective? After all, "eschatology" ends in
"-logy", which most linguistic botanists (including Grice and Geary) take
it as  the CRITERION of science.

Grice loved ichthyology, and laughed at the idea, when analysing the
concept of 'necessity', that we need 'ichthyological necessity'. But with
'eschatological' we are in a safer terrain, we hope.

Bede -- whose work is published by the  celebrated Loeb Classical Library
of Graeco-Roman literature, wo Bede is a bit  of a Roman there, says the the
originally heathen Anglo-Saxon, after becoming  Christians -- which, in the
words of Sellars and Yeatman, was a good thing,  'since England was bound to
be C. of E.' -- "before that time, the natives  worshipped odd gods by the
name of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday") --  adopted "Aurora"'s
name (since "easter" is cognate with 'aurora', as deriving  from a common
Indo-European verb meaning 'to shine' especially as the dawn or  the Roman
'aurora' shines). And not only the name, Bede adds, the Anglo-Saxons,  once
Christian, adopted many of the celebratory practices for their own mass of
Christ's resurrection. Almost all (implicature: but not ALL all) neighbouring
languages use a variant of Latin "Pascha" to name this holiday (see "paschal"
--  and USE 'paschal' if you want to invite a further implicature -- Grice's
conversational category of Modus or perspicuity -- 'be perspicuous [sic]',
'avoid obscurity of expression').

Bede is right. Why would the Anglo-Saxons draw from Hebrew, anyway. The
Romans did, though. "pascha" is the mere Greek translation -- remember  that
every aristocratic Roman boy had a Greek slave that taught him the  lingo --
'paidagogos' -- of "πάσχα", which is the Greek way of interpreting  some
obscure Hebrew terminology.

The Romans, when uttering

i. Pascha

if we are to credit Grice and Putnam ('causal theory of naming) referred to
the feast of the passover, or this "easter" (as Bede notes):

sollennibus Paschae, Tertuliano ad Uxor. 2, 4:
lege dedit pascham, id. in Carm. adv. Marc. 2, 80:
pascharum dies, Symm. Ep. 10, 77:
dominicum pascha celebrare, Hier. Ep. 96, n. 20:
post sanctum pascha, Aus. Ep. 10, 17:
paschate vicino, Hier. in Matt. 26, 3:
per tria paschata, id. in Dan. 9, 24.—

If Quine uses the example of "Gavagai" to mean 'rabbit' (in some
native-American language), it should be noted that if a Roman said,

ii. Pascha!

he could well be meaning, in a Griceian way, the paschal lamb -- such is
the use of "pascha" in the Vulgata 1 Cor. 5, 7; cf. id. Marc. 14, 12.

Not happy with the 'noun', trust the Romans to suffix. Hence 'pascha'
becomes adj. 'paschalis', to mean, in a Griceian way, 'of or belonging to the
Passover or to Easter,' i.e. paschal.

paschale tempus, Cod. Th. 9, 35, 4: dapes, Sedul. init.:
liber, that treats of the Passover, Hier. Ep. 99, n. 1.

A Griceian Roman utterer was possibly confused. There he is in Rome,
conversing in Greek with his Greek slave, about "πάσχα" (The Romans loved the
Greek letters -- since, as Seneca says, "they are so difficult to carve on
stone").

The 'paidagogos' -- a slave Roman boys used to learn Hellenic -- use use
this word to mean the Hebrew Passover. The 'paidagogos', being cultivated,
would  know it is from "pāsa[hudot ] 'pass over'" -- and it is THIS which the
original  Griceian meaning is ("Do not multiply the senses of 'pasqua'
beyond necessity").  This was Paschal feast, LXX Ex.12.48, etc., and also applied
to the paschal  supper, Ev.Matt. 26.17, 19,al., and as in Roman, to the
paschal lamb (θύειν τὸ  π. LXX Ex.12.21, al. ; “τὸ π. ἐτύθη Χριστός”
1 Ep.Cor.5.7.).

The Anglo-Saxons need NOT be confused by using "Easter". After, all, the
Christian practices on this day (and Grice and Oxford are Christian -- he was
fellow of "St. John's" -- what can be more Christian than that?) are
usually  interpreted in terms of baptism at "the pasch" (Easter), for which
compare  Tertullian, but the text does not specify this season, only that it was
done on  Sunday, and the instructions may apply to whenever the baptism was
to be  performed.

So, feel free to use "pasch", or "the pasch".

What MAY confuse the travelling Englishman (Grice visited Italy once after
graduation from Oxford) is that 'Aurora' is usually depicted in Italian
frescoes. And Aurora is Easter.

So, by uttering

iii. Aurora.

we may mean yet different things, Griceianly.

Ēostre or Ostara -- in Old English: Ēastre, Northumbrian dialect Ēostre,
cognate with Old High German: *Ôstara (reconstructed form)) is a  Teutonic
divinity (of the type Wagner would worship) who, by way of the  Germanic
month bearing her name (Northumbrian: Ēosturmōnaþ; West Saxon:  Ēastermōnaþ;
Old High German: Ôstarmânoth), is the namesake of the festival of  Easter.

The next thing is to explore why the Romans, whose calendar was so full,
never seemed to have a special day to worship 'Aurora' ("unless they did,"
Geary  warns us).

Ēostre is attested solely by Bede in his 8th-century work "The Reckoning of
Time". In this apparently unrelated essay, Bede (who, like Sting, was from
Northumbria -- in those days, there was no "Tyne & Wear" -- this is
pre-1974  administrative postal changes and re-distribution of the territory of
the old  shires of old England) states that during "Ēosturmōnaþ" as the
equivalent of  "Aprilis", the heathen Anglo-Saxon held heathen feasts in Eostre's
honour.

INTERLUDE ON "Aprilis --:

Ā̆prīlis, is qs. contr. from aperilis, from aperio; cf. Varr. L. L. 6, 33,
p. 86 Müll.; Cincius ap. Macr. S. 1, 12; Serv. ad Verg. G. 1, 43 (orig.
adj.;  sc. mensis), m.,
I the month of April (as the month in which the earth opens  and softens):
Sex ubi luces Aprilis habebit, Ov. F. 4, 901.—With mensis  expressed: mense
Aprili, Cic. Phil. 2, 39, 100: Qui dies mensem Veneris marinae  Findit
Aprilem, Hor. C. 4, 11, 15.—Adj., of or pertaining to April: Nonarum  Aprilium,
Cic. Fam. 3, 11, 8; 1, 9, 8: Datis mane a. d. Id. April. Scriptis  litteris,
id. ad Brut. 2, 4, 1: Apriles Idus, Ov. F. 4, 621.

-- end of interlude.

Bede notes that, by his time (and a fortiori, by Sting's time), this
heathen tradition had 'died out' (he uses the figurative expression) and
replaced by the Christian Paschal month, a celebration of the resurrection of
Jesus.

What may confuse an Englishman, even a Griceian one, is that by uttering
"Easter" he is NOT meaning "east", although "Easter" IS cognate with "east".
The  addition of "-er" allows us here to say that we can multiply senses,
because we  have two lexemes. We should not multiply the senses of 'east'
beyond necessity.  But 'easter' is not strictly the same as 'east'.

Loeb found out that bringing Bede in Latin was good enough. What Bede says
may confuse the modern Englishman (including Sting, even if he is, like
Bede,  from Northumbria)

Eostur-monath, qui nunc Paschalis mensis interpretatur, quondam a Dea
illorum quæ Eostre vocabatur, et cui in illo festa celebrabant nomen habuit: a
cujus nomine nunc Paschale tempus cognominant, consueto antiquæ
observationis  vocabulo gaudia novæ solemnitatis vocantes.

This may remind one of Meinong. His favourite circle was 'square'. Meinong's
thesis supervisor said, in German:

i. That's ridiculous!

But Meinong's references to the 'quadratura circuli' impressed him and he 
got an A+ on his dissertation ("On the square circle and other Meinongian 
objects", by Meinong).

"as well as in many another shape,"

Well, triangles tend to be more boring. The etymythology of the 
triangularly-shaped cucumber sandwiches, eaten on Easter, is said to invite the 
implicature that their form symbolises the Trinity, the holy Trinity, that  is.

Meinong's point is a noble one, I'm not sure if refutable. Someone may say:

i. I'm not a liar.

And that's OK.

But if he says:

ii. I'm a liar.

that's not so okay. Because the utterer of (ii) should NOT be taken at his 
disavowal -- unless he is and we end up with Epimenides's paradox. 

We are considering now:

iii. Observe!

One may set the record straight (cfr. the Biblical origin of 'straight and 
narrow' -- the gate that the camel was supposed to cross --: "[Popper] does
say  the injunction [(iii)] led [the physics graduate] students to query 
(iv)."

iv. "Observe what?"

Is 'Observe!' hardly meaningful, or hardly meaningless?

I like 'hardly'. I would rank it as my third favourite adverb: the 
first being 'merely' and the second being 'utterly'.

"Hardly" sometimes invites  the wrong implicature, sometimes not.

It is sometimes confused with
"barely".  Cfr. "Observe!" could barely be made if the injunction were
meaningless."

This may depend on what we apply 'mean' to:

A. The expression may be meaningless.
B. The utterer may still mean something by it.

This was Ziff's example to support Grice. His example was, by uttering a 
succession of phones that sounded meaningless in English (but which is 
meaningful in some native American language), the professor meant that he was 
crazy. Ziff says this follow from Grice's analysis of meaning in terms of 
intention. But Stampe and Paton, "On Ziff on Grice" refudiate Ziff. For surely,
by uttering "gavagai gavagai gavagai", the professor did NOT intend this 
intention ("I'm uttering something meaningless") to be recognised. The 
professor's whole point was to get his addressee believe that he (the professor)
was crazy by using something that the addressee could not make head or
tails of  (figuratively)

Consider:

iv. Observe WHAT, darling?

If I had been in THAT class, surely I would have provided a neat report: 
"The walls are white, the board is clean and Popper has yet written none of
his  handwriting on it. There are two big windows overlooking the campus. It
is sunny  and I wonder what I'm doing here. I've just seen a flock of
robins flying -- the  windows being so big. The windows have no curtains, which I
think in bad taste.  The floor is not that clean. My fellow students don't
know what they are doing  here either. Now I will concentrate on Popper. His
nose is not big, but it's not  small either. He seldom smiles. I see a
spider behind him, but possibly  inocuous. The door is closed, and I wonder if
we are not LOCKED in here. The  desk is a mess, typical. Popper brought loads
of papers and I expect he won't  read them to us. There is a pot with a
plant that seems to be in terrible need  of water. The roof is, audaciously,
red. I wonder why I applied to this college.  There is a central lamp on the
roof, hanging. It is so kitch that I have to  concentrate on NOT observing
it, as it totally disconcentrates me. I'm using a  nice pen for writing this,
and I wonder why, because when Popper gave us back  our previous notes, he
used a cheap pencil, rather! Now there is a little cloud,  I can see through
the window, blocking the sun, but it'll soon pass, I'm  sure."

Popper uses some synonym of 'meaningless' when
discussing this case. And I think it has to do with the 'priority thesis'
we  were considering. I shall have to revise this. Because Popper seems to
bring  back this reminiscences as an answer to the question whether
observation is  theory-laden? Popper seems in his reminiscence to confuse a few
things, since I  think he also brings in, for good measure, G. A. Paul's problem,
"Is there a  problem about sense data?". And so, he is wondering about the
_what_ in "observe  what?". A sense-datum? Or a 'material' object, or a
thing? A phainomenon, or a  noumenon?

In German, 'Meinung' -- which is cognate with Grice's favourite word, 
'meaning' -- may mean 'opine'. It's different from 'sinnlos' (senseless), and so
I will need to revise what word Popper actually used and which one he
might have  been having in mind in his Austrian-speaking mind. There is an usage
of  'meaningless' where it means something like 'purposeless', or 'otiose'.
But I do  NOT think Popper is having in mind clever observations like
Vendler when he  noticed that a waiter leaving the table by saying:

v. Enjoy!

he is being 'meaningless' because enjoyment cannot be controlled 
rationally. So,

vi. Will you close that door, please? Only gypsies who live in tents leave 
doors unclosed like that, darling.

is different.

vii. Close the door!

-- unlike "Enjoy!" -- is within the rational control of the addressee. 
That's why Ali Baba,

viii. Open, Sesame!

is 'otiose' and meaningless, because a door cannot obey that injunction. It
would be different if Popper were to give that injunction in a morgue, to
a set  of corpses. Because THEY could not 'observe'. So there are loads of 
qualifications to bring in.

Popper's point about the pov (a favourite acronym with Popperians) is well 
taken, and indeed, when I read that reminiscence by Popper I was reminded, 
naturally of Grice's first Immanuel Kant lecture (at Stanford) on reason and 
reasoning. Because he says that to say things like

ix.

I have 2 hands.
If I had 3 more hands, I would have 5 hands.
If I were to have double 5, I'd have 10 hands.
If 4 hands were removed, 6 hands would remain.
-----------------
Therefore, I would have 4 more hands than I have now.

Grice finds the reasoning 'brilliant, if otiose at heart' (figuratively).

Should we use 'observation' in scare quotes?

Just checking I see Popper claims:

x. Clearly, the instruction "Observe!" is absurd.

Now let's see what synonyms in German we have for "absurd". The Romans used
the word to mean 'meaningless':

xi. Credo, quia absurdum est.

---- INTERLUDE ON Popper's "absurd".

Popper is using 'absurd' figuratively, i.e. metaphorically. The Romans used
it literally to mean 'out of tune'. But figurative usages are already
found, qua  implicaturae, in Roman speech. Of persons and things, 'absurdus',
'absurda' and  'absurdum' meant irrational, incongruous, _absurd_, silly,
_senseless_,  stupid.

ratio inepta atque absurda, Terenzio Ad. 3, 3, 22:
hoc pravum, ineptum, absurdum atque alienum a vitā meā videtur, id. ib. 5,
8, 21:
carmen cum ceteris rebus absurdum tum vero in illo, Cicerone Mur. 26:
illud quam incredibile, quam absurdum! id.
Sull. 20: absurda res est caveri, id.
Balb. 37: bene dicere haud absurdum est, is not inglorious, per litotem 
for, is praiseworthy, glorious,
Sall. C. 3
Kritz.—Homo absurdus, a man who is fit or good for nothing: sin plane 
abhorrebit et erit absurdus,
Cicerone, de Or. 2, 20, 85:
absurdus ingenio, Tacito, H. 3, 62; cf.:
sermo comis, nec absurdum ingenium, id. A. 13, 45.
—Comp., Cicerone. Phil. 8, 41; id. N. D. 1, 16; id. Fin. 2, 13.—Sup., Cic.
Att. 7, 13.
—Adv.: absurdē.
1    Lit., discordantly:  canere, Cic. Tusc. 2, 4, 12.—
2    Fig.,  irrationally, absurdly, Plaut. Ep. 3, 1, 6; Cic. Rep. 2, 15;
id. Div. 2, 58, 219  al.—Comp., Cic. Phil. 8, 1, 4.—Sup., Aug. Trin. 4 fin.

It may be a typical Roman expression, not a Hellenic one, for once!

--- END OF INTERLUDE.

A 'decade' of Popperian discussion is usually ambiguous in usage if not meaning.

The Romans used 'decade', literally, "ten parts", of anything (that had ten
parts), originally in reference to the books of Livy -- which were divided
in ten parts to faciliate its reading by Roman students.

"Cui bono?"

Well, this is a trick. The apparently rhetorical question (x-question, 
rather than yes/no question, as usually rhetorical questions go) is  used to
invite the implicature (cancellable) that the agent  having done action A may
be found among those who have something to  gain, usually inviting the
extra-implicature that this is done, with  an eye toward _financial_ gain.

In fact Cicerone, who discusses 'absurdum' in his Rhetoric, in his speech 
"Pro Roscio Amerino" attributed the first use of "cui bono" (the Romans lack
the  interrogation sign, but they did raise the intonation, grave as their
reputation  has passed to be) to the Roman consul and censor Lucius Cassius
Longinus  Ravilla, if you heard of him (His mother called him just "Lucy")

Cicerone:

L. Cassius ille quem populus Romanus verissimum et sapientissimum  iudicem
putabat identidem in causis quaerere solebat 'cui bono'  fuisset.

(Rougly translated: "The famous Lucius Cassius, whom the Roman people used 
to regard as a very honest and wise judge, was in the habit of asking, time
and  again, 'To whose benefit?'"

-- By using "time and again," Cicerone is inviting the implicature, "BORING
Lucy".

For the record, another example of Cicerone using "cui bono" is in his 
defence of Milo, in the Pro Milone. He even makes a reference to Cassius: "let 
that maxim of Cassius apply".

If Cicerone had known of Grice he would not have said, "Let that wise 
Grecian maxim apply," but "Let that wise Griceian maxim apply."

So let us apply to resurrection. "Observe," the apostle said: "The tomb is 
empty". "Surely he resurrected". "Does that follow?," the other apostle
asked.  "Cui bono?" To the everlasting glory of God, of course.

Indeed, the first element we encounter in the framework of the Easter 
events is the empty tomb.

An observational statement if ever there was one.

In itself,

xii. Jesus's tomb is empty.

surely is NOT what Grice would have as "a direct proof" or 'index'  (Grice
loved Peirce's 'technocrypticisms') of Resurrection.

Surely, the absence of Christ's body from the tomb could be explained 
otherwise.

Ask Hanson, and consider his explorations on 'inference to the best 
explanation'. Is abductive reasoning at play here, if we don't want to offend 
Popper by overusing an empiricist idea of 'induction'?

Even if not an index -- i.e. we wouldn't say

xiii. Jesus's tomb's being empty means-n that Jesus resurrected.

--- nonetheless, the empty tomb was seen or observed (perhaps, granted, by 
those who were displaying 'theory-laden' observation -- still an essential
sign  for all those concerned with this particular tomb.

The discovery (a favourite word with Popper and Hanson) of the emtpy tomb 
by Jesus's disciples was the first step toward recognizing the very "fact"
of  the Resurrection, or state of affairs (to use Wittgensteinian parlance --
"The  world is all that is the case."

This was the case, first with the holy women, and then with St. Peter (as 
he then wasn't).

The disciple "whom Jesus loved", i.e. Peter, affirmed that when he  (Peter)
entered the empty tomb and discovered "the linen cloths lying  there", "he
saw and believed".

Popper would have observed and perhaps DISbelieved, but that is neither 
here nor there.

Joe Orton wrote, "What the butler saw" (to be staged this year on the 
Westport playhouse"). What Peter saw was an empty tomb. He "believed" he said, 
not that the tomb was empty (that would be otiose -- cfr. 'seeing is 
believing'). Rather he believed that Jesus had resurrected.

By "seeing and believing", Peter is implicating that he realized from  the
empty tomb's condition that the absence of Jesus' body could NOT have  been
of animal (e.g. jackal) or human doing and, furthermore, that Jesus had not 
simply returned to earthly life as had been the case with Lazarus.

Mary Magdalene and the holy women who came to finish anointing the body of 
Jesus, which had been buried in haste because the Sabbath began on the
evening  of Good Friday, were allegedly the first to see the Risen One.

"See" is factive. So if we say that Magdalene (Strawson was a fellow of 
Magdalen, not to be confused with Cambridge's Magdalene) saw the risen one,
the  risen one was there to be seen (cfr. Grice, "Macbeth saw Banquo.") --
unless we  'disimplicate' and remain sceptic.

The women were the first messengers of Christ's Resurrection for the 
apostles themselves.

The apostles were the next who saw the resurrected Jesus  appears.

First Peter, then the remaining eleven (it is after this tradition that 
English football has 11 players on each team, since Peter was the first).

Peter had been called to strengthen the faith of his "brothers", and so 
"sees" the Risen One before them.

It is on the basis of Peter's eye-witness testimony  that remaining eleven
exclaimed in unison: "The Lord has risen indeed,  and has appeared to
Simon!"

The invited implicature is

xiv. Peter = Simon.

-- where "Peter" is Jesus's wise use of "Petros", masculine of "Petra" 
(stone, feminine in Latin), seeing that Peter was male.

"Blessed are you, Simon, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and 
blood, but by my Father in heaven.
And I tell you that you are Peter ("Petros"), and on this rock ("petra") I 
will build my church.

-- the rest is St. Peter's in Rome.

Later, by means of touch and the sharing of a meal, the risen Jesus 
establishes direct contact with his disciples.

Jesus invites them in this way to recognize that he is NOT a  ghost.

The example interested Grice ("Macbeth saw Banquo") to the point of coining
'disimplicature'. "If we say that Hamlet saw his father, when all he saw
was the  GHOST of his father, we are not therefore misusing 'see' which
ENTAILS  that what is seen is OUT THERE to be seen, precisely. Rather, I would
like  to introduce as term of art 'disimplicature', for those occasions,
unlike  implicature, where we mean more than we say, but where we mean LESS than
we say:  we merely drop the entailment that 'what is seen' needs to be out
there to be  seen; and we are not necessarily engaged in a sloppy or loose
use of 'see' that  LACKS this entailment."

So Jesus was not a ghost (but cfr. "Holy Ghost" -- cfr. Trinity)

Above all, Jesus invites his apostles to verify (to use Ayer's favourite 
word) that the risen body in which he appears to them is the SAME body that 
had been tortured and crucified, for it still bears the traces of his 
Passion.

There is a famous painting by Caravaggio on this.

Grice was of course interested. Because by 'body', Jesus is making an 
indirect reference to Grice's theory of personal identity. For Grice,

xv. I fell from the stairs.

means 'my body' fell from the stairs, as

xvi. I was hit by a cricket ball in the head.

(Grice, "Personal identity"). But

xvii. I am thinking of joining the navy soon.

-- Grice was writing this in 1939 -- it is not Grice's body, but his 
_mind_.

So Jesus's authentic, real body possesses, and this is the 'paschal 
mystery', if you will, the new properties of a glorious body -- something  the
materialist Descartes will find hard to conceive: a body not limited by  space
and time (res extensa) but able to be present how and when he wills.

Jesus's humanity can no longer be confined to earth, and belongs henceforth
only to the Father's divine realm.

It is only for this eschatological reason too that the risen Jesus enjoys 
the sovereign freedom of appearing as he wishes: in the guise of a gardener
or  in other forms familiar to his disciples, precisely to awaken their
faith, which  invites the implicature (Platonic in nature) that the faith was
there to be  awoken!

A happy Griceian Easter, all implicatures invited!