Behind locked doors afraid—of all
the places to be on Easter! I mean hadn’t they heard the news? Hadn’t
Peter and John given them the word after they’d raced to the tomb?
After all that had happened that day what pray tell was there for them
to be afraid of? Were they still afraid of those who had put Jesus to
death? Were they somehow fearful of those who still weren’t
convinced—who’d seen how they’d failed to protect Jesus and instead run
like cockroaches from the light. When it comes right down to it, fear
and shame are hard to shake, even on Easter Sunday. Of all places to
be, behind locked doors, afraid, maybe it’s not such a surprise
after all.
If we’re honest with ourselves, we can
see that it’s not an altogether unfamiliar place for us to be either
behind locked doors, afraid—as those who live isolated by
fears of every kind, fears that until recently we could have never
imagined. There are other fears too. Most of us spend at least
some time worrying about our own future, the prospect of debilitating
illness, of unforeseen situations and circumstances that would prevent
us from being able to provide for ourselves or our loved ones.
I read a report not too long ago about
how hesitant people are to open the door when someone knocks. I know
that at our house, if we don’t know the person we see through the
peephole, chances are the door is going to remain locked. After all,
these days, a person can’t be too cautious, right? The fears that lay
hold of us are real and in many cases justified, so like the disciples
on that first Easter we lock the doors, turn out the lights and keep to
ourselves hoping desperately that we won’t be found out.
But it is precisely to those who won’t
open the door, who live in fear the risen Christ comes. Thought, when
you stop and think about it, maybe he should have gone somewhere else
first. I mean, if you or I were resurrected, we might want to show
ourselves to Pontius Pilate so he could see what a mistake he’d made.
Surely, we’d want to track down old Caiphas to tell him to check out his
Bible one more time, or the crowds who’d cried out “crucify” to give
them their comeuppance. Instead, Jesus appears to the disciples,
incompetent, naïve cowards that they are.
To frightened fools like them, like us,
Jesus speaks a strange word. Peace be with you. “After this he
showed them his hands and his side”. Now, I suppose it’s a nice
sounding idea, especially here in church, but not altogether practical
or realistic. I mean we live in a culture that tells us that real peace
comes at a price—working long, hard hours to pay for a fancy home
complete with a high tech security system, spending a half a trillion
dollars a year (more than half of the rest of the world) to defend our
national interests, constructing a multi billion dollar wall along our
southern border to stem the tide of undesirable illegal immigration.
Once we make ourselves invulnerable and completely safe, then and only
then peace will be ours.
But the crucified and risen Jesus will
have nothing to do with peace on our terms. For Jesus the only real
peace is bound up in the still visible wounds he suffered on the cross.
And that’s a hard message for us to grasp. In a world filled with and
wounded by fear, in a world torn apart by violence, it’s hard not to
wonder where God is. But, Jesus’ wounded hands and side reveal to us
and to the world that now there is no place so dark, so full of fear
that God is not there even now, fully present for us and for all
creation. Through Jesus life, his suffering, his death and
resurrection, God is active in our lives and in our world, to bring
healing and peace in ways that we can’t even begin to fully grasp.
And as the crucified, risen Christ breaks
into the darkness of our fearful, sinful lives, he in turn sends us with
the gift of peace, the gift given to us that we are called to share,
peace quite unlike any the world has ever known. The great theologian
Joseph Sittler once spoke of the tension of peace as both rest and
movement. “When the world is regarded as a succulent resource to be
squeezed for its juice of joy, it turns out to be a thief, a liar, and a
cheat. And yet, when the world is received as a gift, a grace, an ever
astounding wonder, it can be rightly enjoyed and justly used.” As those
who have been called and sent by Jesus, as those who have received his
word of peace for our lives, we are set free to live within that
tension, ambiguity, and uncertainty.
Now that isn’t to say that here in the
afterglow of Easter life is easy and we have it all together. Not at
all, at times our fears get the best of us, even in the church.
“Sometimes, I wonder,” writes ELCA Bishop Mark Hanson, “dare I say
worry—do we look to the church to provide us a refuge from the
world, rather than a community of faith that sends us into the
world?”
My friends, none of us is cast us out into
a fear filled, violent, broken world to fend for ourselves. Listen,
“When Jesus had said this to them, he breathed on them and said to them
‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” If resurrection is the first gift of
Easter, here is the second. There are plenty of times when it seems
like we’re all alone in the world, when we feel like its completely up
to us to find our way, to get the job done, to bring peace into our
corner of the world. So, we bring all of our resources to bear, our
time, our energy, our gifts, but all too often we find ourselves
overwhelmed, feeling totally inadequate to do what we think God wants us
to do, so we grow discouraged. We give up and begin to turn inward and
away from God’s world all around us. And of course our reasoning is
airtight. Our justification well founded. “We’ve got enough problems
of our own to worry about someone else’s” or “we’ve got to take care of
ourselves first before we extend a hand to others.”
But look, Jesus doesn’t wait until the
disciples have it all together. The doors are still locked, they still
don’t fully understand, their faith is still weak and shaky. “As the
Father sends me, so I send you!” disciples, Christ’s Word breaks into
our locked-up, fearful lives and sends us out with a real presence, the
power of the Holy Spirit that we experience together as the people of
God, together with peace that seems so elusive in the world today
whether in Iraq, Israel and the Occupied Territories, or in our own
communities, in the places where we live, work and go about our lives,
peace that that is understood not merely as the absence of conflict, but
more fully as well being for all.
The final and most precious gift that the
risen Jesus comes to give is the hope and promise of the Gospel. But
just what is the “Gospel”, what is the “good news” except for a nice
sounding word that the preacher tosses our way every Sunday? The
Gospel, the good news my friends, is that through the death and
resurrection of Jesus Christ God gives new life, He forgives sinners,
sinners like you and me!
And as those who are forgiven, we are
called to be about forgiveness in our lives. “Receive the Holy Spirit,
if you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you retain the
sins of any, they are retained.” I sometimes wonder if forgiveness is
the most difficult task to which we are called as God’s people. In the
aftermath of 9/11, a church member was upset about the way people in his
church were talking about the need for forgiveness. He made an
appointment with the pastor and told her, “We’ve got to be careful, in a
nation under attack, not to take this forgiveness business too far.”
And yet, was not Christ willing to take the business of forgiveness all
the way to the cross? What Jesus is saying to us today is that if we
fail to tell our neighbors, our friends, our families that God in Jesus
Christ forgives “you” then we bear responsibility for their sins.
Again, I know as well as anyone how truly
difficult genuine forgiveness can be. And yet, I recalled an incident
an incident that I became aware of a few years ago around the time of
Easter, that showed how profound and powerful the gift of forgiveness
really is. Amid the loud cries of “he is risen. He is risen indeed”
someone I know was able to express her forgiveness of another who had
caused her great pain. Does that mean that all is forgotten, that
bygones are bygones, that everything is peachy? No, not all, there is
still work to be done, still trust that must be built again, but I am
convinced that the forgiveness, the letting go that God has begun to
work in this person has come about only through the power of the
crucified and risen Christ at work in her and in the lives of all God’s
people.
“If you forgive the sins of any, they are
forgiven. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” How does
Christ’s promise lead us to relate to that family member, friend or
member of the church from whom we feel alienated, to whom we’ve spoken a
harsh word, over whom we hold a grudge. In some ways, it’s a whole lot
easier to hold onto our resentments than to seek reconciliation, far
more comfortable to live secure behind locked doors than to trust in the
promise of the Crucified Christ who is alive in the world and calls us
to meet him there. But as Easter people, we are blessed, gifted by God
with peace, with the power of the Holy Spirit, and the good news of
forgiveness. We don’t have to live in the darkness behind locked doors
anymore. In Christ we have been set free from all that binds us, set
free to live by faith in the joyous light of Easter.
God’s hand has triumphed. The power of
sin and death has ended. Like a great cosmic explosion, Easter propels
us bursting with a word to the world. The word is resurrection. Of all
people, God has called us to speak, to get out of here and tell
somebody! By the gift of the Spirit we are made able, equipped with all
that we need to go and tell this Easter season. And Christ goes before,
to show us the way. Let us trust in the one who is our way.
Amen.
Pastor Brian
Peterson
