The resurrected Christ appears to his disciples and tells them, "You are the witnesses of these things."
The disciples were called witnesses. What do you think of when you hear the word "witness"? I think of Perry Mason, one of my favorite shows as a kid. A good witness could steal the whole episode. What else leaps to mind? I have another image that springs to mind; from my childhood Pentecostal days, of witnessing on street corners. Sometimes it felt more like shoving Jesus down someone's throat if they wanted it or not. But we understood that's what Jesus called us to do.
And, to some degree, I think this approach is correct. I don’t think aggressive evangelism is very successful today, but if we really believe that we have found a way that gives meaning and purpose to our lives, it would seem that we would be bursting to share what we have found with those we encounter each day. We are called to be witnesses. But I'm not sure that street corners are the best place to find people who are open to the Gospel.
We are each being called to be witnesses to the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Today, it is the church that keeps Jesus alive in our midst by becoming the risen body of Christ. Jesus the Christ has become known to us, through the witness of scripture, and through the witness of how Jesus Christ has touched our lives.
How has Jesus Christ touched your life? What are the particular things that you can proclaim as a witness for Christ?
Being a witness can be difficult. We don't know what to say, or when to say it, or when to stop. Don't feel bad. At first, right after the resurrection, the disciples didn't feel up to the job, and they weren’t. Jesus told them to wait, to not start being his witness yet. Jesus knew that though the disciples were full of enthusiasm and good intentions, when push came to shove, they were really only ordinary people. They were to wait, until they were filled with the Holy Spirit, until they were filled with the presence of the living God.
It is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit that allows the Church to become the body of Christ. When we try to run on our own power, or our own strength, we are setting ourselves up for failure. We cannot present an authentic witness to Jesus Christ without the Holy Spirit.
Who are the witnesses for the Church? Who affirms that we are indeed the resurrected body of Christ? If the Church is to be heard in this world, if the Gospel is to be preached to open ears, the Church must also have witnesses. Who speaks for the church today?
Unfortunately, the church’s witness to the world has not always been a positive one. Mahatma Gandhi followed the teachings of Jesus, but said he could never become a Christian because of the example of Christianity he had witnessed. Today, there are young people who will not even consider Christianity as an option because of the harsh message they hear coming from the Church.
But, we do have other examples in the history of the Church. One of these examples would be St. Lawrence, who was martyred in 258. He was the Archdeacon of Rome. His assignment was to maintaining the sacred vessels and disperse alms to the poor. Governor of Rome took Pope Sextus captive. He demanded to know, "Where are the treasures of the church?" When the Pope refused to give up the treasure, he was tortured to death. The Governor gave Lawrence the same demand. “Bring me the treasures of the Church. "Give me three days, and I will grant your demand," said Lawrence. When he returned threee days later, he was accompanied by crowd of the lame, blind, and deaf, the nobodies of society. “Here are the treasures of the church," proclaimed Lawrence.
If our message is to be heard, we need to proclaim it in both word and deed. If we are to be effective witnesses to Jesus Christ in today's world, we need witnesses that will say, "Yes, these people live the life that they profess."
We are called to be witnesses. May God grant that each of us might encounter the risen Christ, be empowered by the Holy Spirit, and show forth in our lives what we profess by our faith.
Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Easter, 2006
Easter 2006
Sometime between Friday and this morning, over 2000 years ago, something happened. We don’t know exactly what happened. All we have is the testimony of those who saw evidence of this “something” that first Easter morning. A wandering rabbi by the name of Jesus had been executed by the Romans for the crime of treason. They said he claimed to be king of the Jews.
Three days later, his tomb was found to be empty. Some of his followers told stories of seeing him alive. Throughout his small band of followers spread the message; “He is Risen!” At first, these followers weren’t sure what that meant exactly, except that one they loved, whose loss they had mourned, had somehow appeared once again in their midst.
Over time, this “something” that happened, this event, became the definitive moment in the faith tradition known as Christianity. Eventually it came to be understood to mean something like this; “through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot.”
We are no longer held captive by our fear of death. That is a wonderful thing in and of itself, but is that it? Is that what Easter is all about? Not being afraid to die?
I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t seem to cover the myriad of emotions I feel when confronted with the story of the resurrection. I think overcoming fear is a big part of it, but I’m not sure it is simply overcoming the fear of dying.
In the Gospel account, the risen Christ tells the women, “Do not be afraid.” That’s all well and good for them. If I was able to see Jesus Christ, the son of the living God risen from the grave, I wouldn’t be afraid either!
With those in the Gospel story, we proclaim, “He is risen!” What do we mean by that? If he is risen, then where is he?
It’s time for my thunderstorm story again. A little boy was scared during a thunderstorm. His Mom tried to comfort. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “God will keep you safe.”
“But Mom!” the little boy cried. “Right now, I need a God with skin on!”
Sometimes we all need a God with skin on. In order for this idea, this concept of resurrection and immortality to not just float away, it needs to be concrete; it needs to put on some flesh.
One way of understanding a sacrament, an outward sign of an inward grace, is that these things, wine, bread, water, oil, words, people, in a sense become for us concrete ways that we can hold on to the lofty concepts that they represent. We understand Jesus to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of God. We understand the Church to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of Jesus Christ. We, those who are baptized and filled with the spirit of the living God, are the Church. Each one of us is a living sacrament. Each one of us can be God, with skin on for each other. We can represent the risen Christ to one another.
It isn’t always easy to see Christ in your neighbor. Sometimes it’s because your neighbor is a jerk. But most times, I think we cannot see Christ clearly in others because our own vision has become cloudy. How do we clear our vision?
Friday night I spoke to you about suffering and death, and suggested that sometimes we have to let something die in order to make room for the new thing God might be doing. Sometimes we have to let go of something that we have been clinging to desperately in order to see the risen Christ in our midst.
I spoke of the little pit bull that lives within me, and the need for me to let my old friend die. I mentioned that the reason that now is the time to finally let go of the attack dog inside of me that has kept me safe for so long was because I felt God doing something new within me, and this pit bull, with his growls and long teeth, was barring the way for this new thing.
What is this new thing? I promised you if you came back this morning I’d tell you about it. Now I’m not sure just how to describe it. It’s a particular way to view our relationship with God, and our relationship with each other. It’s not really that new, I suppose. It’s Christianity in its most basic form, actually. It seems that somewhere along the way, most likely while paying too much attention to the barking of my pit bull, I seem to have forgotten some of these basic themes.
I’m relearning this relational approach to God through the writings of one author. Right now, I’m allowing this writer to be God, with skin on, for me.
I’m not going to mention the name of the author who seems to be ushering in a new chapter in my own spiritual life, as some folks might be inclined to run out and buy his books. That would be a mistake. Most likely you would be disappointed. He’s not a great writer, and his ideas are not that novel. He speaks to me right now. I’m not sure he would speak to you.
This guy describes himself as an evangelic, catholic, poetic, biblical, charismatic, contemplative, anabaptist, calvinist, anglican, green, incarnational, depressed, unfinished Christian. I love it! He refuses to be put in a box. I’ve worn most of those labels at one time or another in my life, but the idea that I don’t have to take one off to put another one on is refreshing to me. It eliminates a lot of the internal arguments I have with my little pit bull.
He speaks of evangelism; proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ, as a dance! A dance…how wonderful. He talks about nature as God's artwork, God's text, showing us so much about the Creator.
He describes the tension between science and faith this way; “Science sought to explain the world without God, it produced a story without meaning. And Christians, trying to recast the gospel in the language of science and reason, produced a propositional belief system that lost touch with the story that gave it power. I am interested in seeing science and faith as collaborators.”
He reminds me that diversity is a good thing. “Life evolves to thrive in many different niches. The same should be true among Christians,” he says. "We need incredible diversity to fill many, many niches."
And most importantly, he speaks of Christianity as a relationship, not a set of beliefs. He calls for more conversations, and fewer debates.
The pit bull in me doesn’t like this guy. But right, now, he represents, for me, the whisperings of God.
How do I know that this author is right? I don’t. But when I close the book, and look around, I see evidence surrounding me of the truth of his words. And I see even more evidence for why the pit bull must be allowed to die. I want more conversations, more relationships, and the snarling attack dog within me is in the way.
If I am honest, the main reason I kept the pit bull around was because of my fears; fear of being rejected, fear of being wrong, fear of losing the debate, fear that God could not keep me safe. It’s time for me to hear my Risen Lord saying, “Do not be afraid!” It is time to place my faith in God, instead of an internal pit bull.
Christ is risen, and in our midst this morning. How do I know? Because I feel a new life emerging within me. Because I’ve encounter the risen Christ in the writings of a wonderful man. Because I see Christ being made manifest in the love Cherie offers me each day.
And, I know that my redeemer lives, because I see him in each one of you gathered here this morning.
Do not be afraid. He is risen. Alleluia!
Sometime between Friday and this morning, over 2000 years ago, something happened. We don’t know exactly what happened. All we have is the testimony of those who saw evidence of this “something” that first Easter morning. A wandering rabbi by the name of Jesus had been executed by the Romans for the crime of treason. They said he claimed to be king of the Jews.
Three days later, his tomb was found to be empty. Some of his followers told stories of seeing him alive. Throughout his small band of followers spread the message; “He is Risen!” At first, these followers weren’t sure what that meant exactly, except that one they loved, whose loss they had mourned, had somehow appeared once again in their midst.
Over time, this “something” that happened, this event, became the definitive moment in the faith tradition known as Christianity. Eventually it came to be understood to mean something like this; “through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot.”
We are no longer held captive by our fear of death. That is a wonderful thing in and of itself, but is that it? Is that what Easter is all about? Not being afraid to die?
I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t seem to cover the myriad of emotions I feel when confronted with the story of the resurrection. I think overcoming fear is a big part of it, but I’m not sure it is simply overcoming the fear of dying.
In the Gospel account, the risen Christ tells the women, “Do not be afraid.” That’s all well and good for them. If I was able to see Jesus Christ, the son of the living God risen from the grave, I wouldn’t be afraid either!
With those in the Gospel story, we proclaim, “He is risen!” What do we mean by that? If he is risen, then where is he?
It’s time for my thunderstorm story again. A little boy was scared during a thunderstorm. His Mom tried to comfort. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “God will keep you safe.”
“But Mom!” the little boy cried. “Right now, I need a God with skin on!”
Sometimes we all need a God with skin on. In order for this idea, this concept of resurrection and immortality to not just float away, it needs to be concrete; it needs to put on some flesh.
One way of understanding a sacrament, an outward sign of an inward grace, is that these things, wine, bread, water, oil, words, people, in a sense become for us concrete ways that we can hold on to the lofty concepts that they represent. We understand Jesus to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of God. We understand the Church to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of Jesus Christ. We, those who are baptized and filled with the spirit of the living God, are the Church. Each one of us is a living sacrament. Each one of us can be God, with skin on for each other. We can represent the risen Christ to one another.
It isn’t always easy to see Christ in your neighbor. Sometimes it’s because your neighbor is a jerk. But most times, I think we cannot see Christ clearly in others because our own vision has become cloudy. How do we clear our vision?
Friday night I spoke to you about suffering and death, and suggested that sometimes we have to let something die in order to make room for the new thing God might be doing. Sometimes we have to let go of something that we have been clinging to desperately in order to see the risen Christ in our midst.
I spoke of the little pit bull that lives within me, and the need for me to let my old friend die. I mentioned that the reason that now is the time to finally let go of the attack dog inside of me that has kept me safe for so long was because I felt God doing something new within me, and this pit bull, with his growls and long teeth, was barring the way for this new thing.
What is this new thing? I promised you if you came back this morning I’d tell you about it. Now I’m not sure just how to describe it. It’s a particular way to view our relationship with God, and our relationship with each other. It’s not really that new, I suppose. It’s Christianity in its most basic form, actually. It seems that somewhere along the way, most likely while paying too much attention to the barking of my pit bull, I seem to have forgotten some of these basic themes.
I’m relearning this relational approach to God through the writings of one author. Right now, I’m allowing this writer to be God, with skin on, for me.
I’m not going to mention the name of the author who seems to be ushering in a new chapter in my own spiritual life, as some folks might be inclined to run out and buy his books. That would be a mistake. Most likely you would be disappointed. He’s not a great writer, and his ideas are not that novel. He speaks to me right now. I’m not sure he would speak to you.
This guy describes himself as an evangelic, catholic, poetic, biblical, charismatic, contemplative, anabaptist, calvinist, anglican, green, incarnational, depressed, unfinished Christian. I love it! He refuses to be put in a box. I’ve worn most of those labels at one time or another in my life, but the idea that I don’t have to take one off to put another one on is refreshing to me. It eliminates a lot of the internal arguments I have with my little pit bull.
He speaks of evangelism; proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ, as a dance! A dance…how wonderful. He talks about nature as God's artwork, God's text, showing us so much about the Creator.
He describes the tension between science and faith this way; “Science sought to explain the world without God, it produced a story without meaning. And Christians, trying to recast the gospel in the language of science and reason, produced a propositional belief system that lost touch with the story that gave it power. I am interested in seeing science and faith as collaborators.”
He reminds me that diversity is a good thing. “Life evolves to thrive in many different niches. The same should be true among Christians,” he says. "We need incredible diversity to fill many, many niches."
And most importantly, he speaks of Christianity as a relationship, not a set of beliefs. He calls for more conversations, and fewer debates.
The pit bull in me doesn’t like this guy. But right, now, he represents, for me, the whisperings of God.
How do I know that this author is right? I don’t. But when I close the book, and look around, I see evidence surrounding me of the truth of his words. And I see even more evidence for why the pit bull must be allowed to die. I want more conversations, more relationships, and the snarling attack dog within me is in the way.
If I am honest, the main reason I kept the pit bull around was because of my fears; fear of being rejected, fear of being wrong, fear of losing the debate, fear that God could not keep me safe. It’s time for me to hear my Risen Lord saying, “Do not be afraid!” It is time to place my faith in God, instead of an internal pit bull.
Christ is risen, and in our midst this morning. How do I know? Because I feel a new life emerging within me. Because I’ve encounter the risen Christ in the writings of a wonderful man. Because I see Christ being made manifest in the love Cherie offers me each day.
And, I know that my redeemer lives, because I see him in each one of you gathered here this morning.
Do not be afraid. He is risen. Alleluia!
Monday, April 03, 2006
April 3, 2006
In this morning’s Gospel, we hear of two resurrection appearances of Jesus. The Gospels were written to proclaim the Good News to all people. I think that these two resurrection stories are told so close together for a specific reason. They offer a witness to the ability of the resurrection to transform the lives of two very different kinds of people.
First, we have the disciples, minus Thomas, gathered behind a locked door, afraid that if anyone found them, what happened to Jesus would happen to them. They were afraid that they would become Act II, with matching crosses. So they were hiding,
Most of us can identify with this kind of fear. Fear of what might happen. Fear of what someone might do to us. Fear that something might happen to the children. Fear of the stranger. Fear of the unknown.
Our fear of the unknown can lead to our fear of change. If everything is orderly, everything is routine, then we believe we can be safe. Maybe we can, but I think we need to realize that this safety is often based on an illusion. Change is inevitable, no matter what we do.
There was a little boy who was learning to tie his shoes. When he finally mastered this skill, his mother praised him, telling him what a big boy he was now. Suddenly, the young child broke into tears. “What ‘s wrong?” his mother asked. “You should be so proud of yourself! Now you can tie your own shoes just like all the other kids.”
“But Mom!” the boy wailed, “now I’m going to have to do it myself for the rest of my life!”
William Auden once said;
We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And see our illusions die.
Change is inevitable. And maybe we suspect we won’t like it. It’s hard to see our illusions die. But its going to happen anyway. And we have no crystal ball. The fear of the unknown lurking in the misty future is something that no amount of planning, no carefully structured routines, no locked doors or gated communities, can protect us from.
The change in the disciples from the Last Supper to this scene of them huddling in fear is quite dramatic. Jesus was dead, and their world had turned upside down. The future was now completely unknown; but from what they could guess, it was not a very bright.
Then, suddenly, Jesus appears to the disciples in the midst of their fear. He didn’t come to them to take away their fear, but to be present with them in the midst of it. Jesus brought them a word of peace, but not necessarily a word of safety. Most of the disciples went on to face violent deaths. The peace Jesus brought was a peace born of courage. This was a peace that sprung from them seeing who they really were and what they had been called to do.
The situation outside that room did not change. They were still being hunted as criminals. Everything they had been afraid of was still the same. The change happened inside the room; inside each one of them. Jesus said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The spirit of the living God, dwelling within them, transformed these frightened men into messengers who boldly went out into the world proclaiming God’s love revealed through Jesus Christ.
That’s the story of the first resurrection appearance. Now let’s move on to the second one; the one starring Thomas.
Among every culture and every time in history, there are a few people who are unusual in that they seem to not react to fear the same way as the rest of us. Some of these people are the stuff of legends, the heroes of their generation. Their courage often draws us more timid souls to move beyond our fear, and to move forward into the unknown. I think Thomas was one of these types.
Notice that Thomas was not with the rest of the disciples hiding behind a locked door. He didn’t care if he got arrested. He wasn’t going to cower behind some locked door. He had things to do and people to see. He went on about his business.
You might recall earlier, during Jesus earthly ministry, there was a debate among Jesus and his disciples about returning to Judea, where the people had already tried to kill Jesus by stoning him.. Some of the disciples were afraid if they did, they all might be killed. But Jesus was insistent. Finally, Thomas spoke up saying, “Let us all go, that we may die with him.”
We can imagine that Thomas was a brave, no nonsense kind of guy. He was not afraid to face flying stones. After the crucifixion, he was not afraid of being arrested. But, as it is with some people with this kind of strong personality, he was a bit of a cynic. He is known by the label of “doubting Thomas.”
It does take a bit of courage to doubt, doesn’t it? Some people seem to be willing to believe anything, if such beliefs will help them feel safer. Sometimes, I think we are afraid to question some of our beliefs, as we are afraid that we might lose them; we are afraid of we dig too deep, we might somehow lose God. There is a danger of doubting so much that one becomes skeptical of everything. But, for the most part, I think that doubts can often be the springboard for spiritual growth.
The Thomas we meet in the Gospel has become quite the cynic. Here comes his friends, all excited about Jesus suddenly appearing to them. “Yea, right,” thinks Thomas. “The whole thing was a waste of time. We follow this carpenter around, and what happens? He is executed like a common criminal. And now these airheads show up with this bizarre story. They are in denial, big time. Face it fellows. He’s dead! It’s over! Go back to your homes, and get on with your lives!”
But they will not stop jabbering about this ghost they have seen. Finally, in frustration, Thomas shouts, “Look, here’s the deal; unless I can touch the wounds, unless You give me some kind of evidence that he is real, not some phantom projected out of your heads, I’m not buying it. Now leave me alone!”
But, his friends just keep on babbling about it, for all of the next week. Finally, desperate to shut them up, Thomas agrees to return with them to the room.
And Jesus does appear. And Thomas experiences the risen Christ. This strong, courageous cynic drops to his knees, proclaiming, “MY Lord and My God!”
Thomas was transformed that day, as the disciples had been a week before. The cynicism born from doubt was gone. His courage now became even greater. Some early traditions claim that Thomas carried the message of the Gospel as far as India.
I think we need to take to heart these two stories. We might be people bound by fear. Or we might be one of those courageous folk who have become a bit skeptical of those who lean on what we see as false hopes for protection. Regardless of what kind of person, or community, we are, Jesus stands in our midst, offering us peace, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. “Christ comes to Christians regardless of what their quality of life together may be.,” writes Herbert Driscoll. Christ’s unfailing love and unconquerable power penetrates all locked doors. Christ’s presence among us has nothing to do with our deserving his presence, or our willingness to receive it.
Easter sets us free of our fear, and of our bitter cynicism. We are strengthened through the Holy Spirit to affirm that the risen Christ is in our midst. We become bold enough to dare to see the face of the risen Christ in the person sitting next to us this morning. We are empowered to go forth from this place and proclaim that our savior lives, and offers us a life that is deathless and everlasting.
Jesus is saying to each of us today; “Take courage; for I have overcome the world!” This is the message we are called to offer all of humanity. We no longer have to hide in fear. We no longer have to live in bitter cynicism built on broken dreams. We have been given a new spirit, and a new vision, that goes beyond this world. We have been given the gift of God’s love. We have been given God’s spirit, making us the hands of the risen Christ in the world today. Let us proclaim this good news to the world with our every word and deed.
Alleluia Christ is risen!
First, we have the disciples, minus Thomas, gathered behind a locked door, afraid that if anyone found them, what happened to Jesus would happen to them. They were afraid that they would become Act II, with matching crosses. So they were hiding,
Most of us can identify with this kind of fear. Fear of what might happen. Fear of what someone might do to us. Fear that something might happen to the children. Fear of the stranger. Fear of the unknown.
Our fear of the unknown can lead to our fear of change. If everything is orderly, everything is routine, then we believe we can be safe. Maybe we can, but I think we need to realize that this safety is often based on an illusion. Change is inevitable, no matter what we do.
There was a little boy who was learning to tie his shoes. When he finally mastered this skill, his mother praised him, telling him what a big boy he was now. Suddenly, the young child broke into tears. “What ‘s wrong?” his mother asked. “You should be so proud of yourself! Now you can tie your own shoes just like all the other kids.”
“But Mom!” the boy wailed, “now I’m going to have to do it myself for the rest of my life!”
William Auden once said;
We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And see our illusions die.
Change is inevitable. And maybe we suspect we won’t like it. It’s hard to see our illusions die. But its going to happen anyway. And we have no crystal ball. The fear of the unknown lurking in the misty future is something that no amount of planning, no carefully structured routines, no locked doors or gated communities, can protect us from.
The change in the disciples from the Last Supper to this scene of them huddling in fear is quite dramatic. Jesus was dead, and their world had turned upside down. The future was now completely unknown; but from what they could guess, it was not a very bright.
Then, suddenly, Jesus appears to the disciples in the midst of their fear. He didn’t come to them to take away their fear, but to be present with them in the midst of it. Jesus brought them a word of peace, but not necessarily a word of safety. Most of the disciples went on to face violent deaths. The peace Jesus brought was a peace born of courage. This was a peace that sprung from them seeing who they really were and what they had been called to do.
The situation outside that room did not change. They were still being hunted as criminals. Everything they had been afraid of was still the same. The change happened inside the room; inside each one of them. Jesus said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The spirit of the living God, dwelling within them, transformed these frightened men into messengers who boldly went out into the world proclaiming God’s love revealed through Jesus Christ.
That’s the story of the first resurrection appearance. Now let’s move on to the second one; the one starring Thomas.
Among every culture and every time in history, there are a few people who are unusual in that they seem to not react to fear the same way as the rest of us. Some of these people are the stuff of legends, the heroes of their generation. Their courage often draws us more timid souls to move beyond our fear, and to move forward into the unknown. I think Thomas was one of these types.
Notice that Thomas was not with the rest of the disciples hiding behind a locked door. He didn’t care if he got arrested. He wasn’t going to cower behind some locked door. He had things to do and people to see. He went on about his business.
You might recall earlier, during Jesus earthly ministry, there was a debate among Jesus and his disciples about returning to Judea, where the people had already tried to kill Jesus by stoning him.. Some of the disciples were afraid if they did, they all might be killed. But Jesus was insistent. Finally, Thomas spoke up saying, “Let us all go, that we may die with him.”
We can imagine that Thomas was a brave, no nonsense kind of guy. He was not afraid to face flying stones. After the crucifixion, he was not afraid of being arrested. But, as it is with some people with this kind of strong personality, he was a bit of a cynic. He is known by the label of “doubting Thomas.”
It does take a bit of courage to doubt, doesn’t it? Some people seem to be willing to believe anything, if such beliefs will help them feel safer. Sometimes, I think we are afraid to question some of our beliefs, as we are afraid that we might lose them; we are afraid of we dig too deep, we might somehow lose God. There is a danger of doubting so much that one becomes skeptical of everything. But, for the most part, I think that doubts can often be the springboard for spiritual growth.
The Thomas we meet in the Gospel has become quite the cynic. Here comes his friends, all excited about Jesus suddenly appearing to them. “Yea, right,” thinks Thomas. “The whole thing was a waste of time. We follow this carpenter around, and what happens? He is executed like a common criminal. And now these airheads show up with this bizarre story. They are in denial, big time. Face it fellows. He’s dead! It’s over! Go back to your homes, and get on with your lives!”
But they will not stop jabbering about this ghost they have seen. Finally, in frustration, Thomas shouts, “Look, here’s the deal; unless I can touch the wounds, unless You give me some kind of evidence that he is real, not some phantom projected out of your heads, I’m not buying it. Now leave me alone!”
But, his friends just keep on babbling about it, for all of the next week. Finally, desperate to shut them up, Thomas agrees to return with them to the room.
And Jesus does appear. And Thomas experiences the risen Christ. This strong, courageous cynic drops to his knees, proclaiming, “MY Lord and My God!”
Thomas was transformed that day, as the disciples had been a week before. The cynicism born from doubt was gone. His courage now became even greater. Some early traditions claim that Thomas carried the message of the Gospel as far as India.
I think we need to take to heart these two stories. We might be people bound by fear. Or we might be one of those courageous folk who have become a bit skeptical of those who lean on what we see as false hopes for protection. Regardless of what kind of person, or community, we are, Jesus stands in our midst, offering us peace, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. “Christ comes to Christians regardless of what their quality of life together may be.,” writes Herbert Driscoll. Christ’s unfailing love and unconquerable power penetrates all locked doors. Christ’s presence among us has nothing to do with our deserving his presence, or our willingness to receive it.
Easter sets us free of our fear, and of our bitter cynicism. We are strengthened through the Holy Spirit to affirm that the risen Christ is in our midst. We become bold enough to dare to see the face of the risen Christ in the person sitting next to us this morning. We are empowered to go forth from this place and proclaim that our savior lives, and offers us a life that is deathless and everlasting.
Jesus is saying to each of us today; “Take courage; for I have overcome the world!” This is the message we are called to offer all of humanity. We no longer have to hide in fear. We no longer have to live in bitter cynicism built on broken dreams. We have been given a new spirit, and a new vision, that goes beyond this world. We have been given the gift of God’s love. We have been given God’s spirit, making us the hands of the risen Christ in the world today. Let us proclaim this good news to the world with our every word and deed.
Alleluia Christ is risen!
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