Vicar Brett Wilson – Easter 2A – John 20:19-31 – CELC Lanc - 5/1/11
You accidentally broke your mother's vase, or your dad just found out through the grapevine what your friends were actually up to last weekend, or you just know that report card is coming in the mail.
So out of fear, you run to your room, and lock the door behind you, waiting . . .
And when you hear the doorknob turn or the knock rap on the door, your stomach sinks, because you can imagine the exact phrase that will be hurled, and that you deserve it.
These feelings don't leave us in childhood.
We can predict the phrases all too well - What happened? Where were you? Why didn't you stand up for me? You really screwed up this time . . .
And those phrases of accusation aren't really what hurt us, but the truth, that we have hurt ourselves.
We run to our rooms, not out of fear of the parent coming with a punishment, but out of fear of the truth of what we have done ourselves.
Those disciples sat in the room, locked for fear – fear of the forces on the outside, but also fearful for what they had done. They had betrayed him. They pretended they didn't know him. As he died, they ran away and hid. They were fearful, ashamed, and frightened of the world that seemed to be turning on them and on itself. And they, like we do so often, literally or metaphorically, run to their room, lock the door, and hide.
And then, locked up by their fear, Jesus come and stood among them. Imagine being one of the disciples, in the room, looking at the risen Lord who has appeared among you. I think, if we realize that moment, we might remember that feeling at the pit of our stomach, when mom or dad came to our room, and you just knew you had done something wrong. You sink into your seat, just waiting for what you think you know is coming.
But Jesus doesn't. Jesus doesn't say, “What happened?” “Where were you?” or “Man, you really screwed up.”
Jesus greets them saying, “Peace.”
Peace be with you.
Jesus simply says peace. This peace, in place where we would expect words of reprimand, disappointment, or command, is forgiveness. And it is surprising.
Peace is powerful and surprising – because it breaks our expectations, our reasonably learned logic of crime and punishment, of revenge, of hurt. Jesus' peace ends all cycles of hurt. Jesus' peace comes from wounded hands, which he shows them, as if to say, these hands, this side, stops all your fears, all your divisions, unlocked all doors.
. . . Often people tell me that, oh, I've been away from church for so long. Or people ask me – can I really come back to God? I haven't been good. . . I've run away from God. That's what sin is, turned into ourselves, and locked the door trying to keep God out. We've all done it.
We are like children ashamed of their own accidents and sins, fearful of the world. We need Christ to come into our room, and tell us the truth about ourselves. And that truth is, Peace be with you. God doesn't accuse, but invite.
This beautiful story from the gospel, a witness of the risen Christ, is for every person. Every person has had doubt, has been fearful, has fled from God, has sinned. No matter who you are, what you've done or think you've done, no matter who you've betrayed, or how far you have tried to go from God, Jesus doesn't say to you “you screwed up.” Jesus says “peace.” Peace that forgives, peace that reconciles us to God. You are not accused, you are forgiven, welcomed, and invited.
Peace be with you. This is Jesus' greeting, and it is our greeting to those closest to us, and to the world. We are blessed, because in baptism, in the Holy Spirit, in communion with God at his table, we receive God's full forgiveness, full peace, but also an invitation, a job to do. The first time Jesus appears in the locked room he says, “As the father has sent me, so I send you.” You are sent. There isn't an instruction guide given at this point or a manual on mission work, but Jesus' peace tells us our job description. We begin every worship service with confession, and then we hear God's words of forgiveness. Thanks be to God! And then, we share the peace, first among those gathered here, in this room, but then out in the world, as we too are sent, to go in PEACE and serve the LORD.
I think that dismissal phrase turned around explains itself – how do we serve the Lord? By going in peace – as Jesus did – disregarding old betrayals, hurts, and fears, and offering peace. I see it here as we will in just a moment do this together, as we offer peace to each other, and shake hands. At the congregation I grew up in, this rough looking older man, a veteran, with hands as big and rough as his ruddy face, would always perk up at the time of the peace. He would shake each person's hand, but look you right in the eye, and say “Peace, brother” or “Peace, sister.” He knew some names, but during the peace, he would only say those phrases, as he greeted each sister or brother in Christ in peace, because that is how we are called to relate to one another.
It was a sincere, surprising gesture from a man I thought I could read like a book.
When we hear the storms start to rumble . . . we think we know what's coming next. Arguments build, storms destroy, waters crash. But our Lord is Jesus, the one who stilled the storm, who calmed the seas. Jesus the risen Lord who comes into our rooms, even locked, every day, to invite us, to share his peace. Locked up by fear, the disciples may have thought they deserved a reprimand, but Jesus gives peace. Peace be with you. You are invited. Amen.
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