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Contrary to the message from last week's Gospel of Mark, John's Gospel puts a different spin on the Easter story.
In John's Gospel Mary Magdalene is the sole woman to visit the tomb. And as soon as she sees the stone has been rolled away,
she immediately high-tails it back to Peter and the mysteriously unnamed Beloved Disciple to give them the low-down, informing them that the body of Jesus had been stolen.
Peter and the other disciple rush to the tomb to see for themselves, after which, they exit the stage without a word, returning to their homes.
Meanwhile Mary, overcome with emotion in the graveyard, encounters the risen Christ and receives instructions to go and tell the rest of the disciples about her experience,
along with the information that Jesus will soon be ascending to heaven. And in John’s Gospel, as opposed to Mark's Gospel, she obeys the instructions that she has received.
And that's where this morning’s reading picks up. Mary has told the disciples the amazing news that Jesus is not dead as previously reported,
but has risen from the grave, that hope is not lost after all, that life has taken an incredible turn for the better. But despite her good news,
in our opening verse, we find the disciples, fearfully hiding in a house later that evening, locked away behind closed doors.
We're not told exactly what their fear was about. Maybe they were afraid that they would be next. After hearing the horrible details of the crucifixion of Jesus,
maybe they were afraid that their names were on some sort of government hit list, and that they would be the next ones to be crucified. Guilty by association.
Or maybe, after hearing the news that the tomb was empty, they realized that they were the most likely suspects to have stolen the body of Jesus.
Maybe they were afraid of the accusations, and so they were hiding themselves away until things had settled down a bit.
Or maybe, just maybe, they actually did believe Mary Magdalene. When Mary rushed back to the disciples and joyfully announced, "I have seen the Lord,"
maybe that wasn't such great news for these disciples who had scattered from Jesus on the night of the crucifixion, like cockroaches when the light is turned on.
Oh sure, Mary was excited; she was one of the few who remained with Jesus until the bitter end. Mary had not abandoned Jesus.
Maybe the disciples weren’t afraid of the Jews at all, but rather of Jesus, and the revenge he would take on them for their cowardly behavior.
Or maybe it was all of the above and even more. When fear begins to burrow its way into our lives, it's usually not one simple fear,
but rather, a legion of fears. So many fears that life appears to be overwhelming. Our own life is overwhelming with wars and economic crises that drag on and on,
extreme weather conditions that overwhelm and perplex us, violence in our neighborhoods and in lands far away, high unemployment, high gasoline prices, high health care costs,
a political season already filled with poisonous rhetoric and too little concern for the most vulnerable among us. And there are our own private griefs and burdens:
health problems, kid problems, too much work, too much worry, too much coming at us, so much to run away from, so much to fear.
What's an overwhelmed person of faith to do? Just one week after all the Easter fanfare, fear makes its way back into our lives,
and we're just not so sure we can really call ourselves an "Easter people," because we feel as if we’re living in a Good Friday world.
And so Jesus appears to the disciples, despite their fears. Despite their locked doors, Jesus enters into their lives, not taking revenge upon them as they might have feared.
Not shaming them or condemning them for their lack of faith, but rather, offering peace. In fact, they are the first words out of his mouth:
"Peace be with you." No matter what’s going on in your life, peace be with you.
No matter what conflicts engulf you that may be sapping the joy from your spirit, peace be with you.
No matter how much pain you are suffering because of grief, or loneliness, or disappointment, peace be with you.
That's how we always recognize God. When we sit in the presence of God, there is always peace. There is a sense that, despite the insanity of the moment, all will be well.
But not only did he offer up peace, we read that Jesus also showed them his hands and his side. He invited them to look upon the marks of his suffering.
It would almost seem as if he were offering them a second chance to suffer with him, since they had missed out on the event three days earlier.
That's another way we know that we're sitting in God's presence. God invites us to look upon the suffering around us. By doing so, we are invited into the compassion of Christ.
When we watch news clips of the tornadoes that destroy homes and rip apart lives, we are invited to look at the suffering of the survivors and offer up our compassion through action and prayer.
As the story unfolds of the Tulsa, Oklahoma neighborhood terrorized by a shooting spree that left five people dead, we are invited to look at the suffering and respond with compassion.
As the number of suicides continue to climb in high schools because of bullying, we are invited to look at the suffering and reach out with our hearts in compassion.
God always invites us to look at the suffering within the world and respond with a compassion that comes, not from us, but from God's own Spirit.
When we do, our own fears fade away and evaporate like fog on a sunny morning. Our own self-centered, paralyzing fear cannot exist
when we open up our doors which have been shutting out the needs of others, when we step outside of ourselves and look into the face of suffering. It just can't.
And with John's own version of Pentecost, we read that Jesus breathed on them and empowered them with the gift of the Holy Spirit.
It brings to mind the creative Spirit of God which hovered over the waters of chaos at the very beginning of creation.
A Spirit that brought into existence miracle after miracle of goodness. This same Spirit was breathed upon these disciples, giving them the ability to also bring goodness into the world –
a goodness marked by love and forgiveness. And then the scene softly fades away, leaving us with a sense of peace that all will indeed be well.
And in the next scene of John's Gospel, we encounter Thomas. Thomas, who missed out on all the action.
Thomas, who insists upon seeing what the others have seen, who demands to experience what they have experienced.
And our temptation is to shift our focus to this complex character, this doubter who hides inside every believing Christian –
the questioner in us that resists easy answers to hard questions of faith, who always wants a little more proof.
But if we spend too much energy examining the motives of Thomas, we'll miss, what I believe is a very important detail of this morning's story,
which takes place a week after the disciples' encounter with Jesus Christ. If we shift our gaze back to these disciples,
these disciples who have experienced the peace that passes all understanding, these disciples who have looked upon the suffering of their Lord
and who have received the gift of the Holy Spirit with the very breath of Jesus Christ – if we shift our gaze to these most blessed of all people,
where do we find them one week later? We find them still, still, in the same house locked away behind closed doors!
It's almost as if they are living out the parable that Jesus told of the three stewards who were given great sums of money by their master.
And one of those stewards hid away what was given to him, burying it, in fact, in the ground. These disciples have been given so much,
and they have done absolutely nothing with it! They continue to meet behind closed doors allowing into their presence only the people who know the password or secret handshake.
Even after experiencing the risen Christ, the disciples do not live as an Easter people.
And two thousand years later, I think that the Church continues to do the same sort of thing. We have been given the gift of God's Holy Spirit and sometimes,
I think, we continue to live as if nothing has happened. We still allow fear to overwhelm us.
We turn away from suffering and go on with our lives as if nothing matters but our own personal agendas. Feeling entitled to our resentments,
we come to the conclusion that forgiveness is actually a goal to which we are allowed to half-heartedly aspire, rather than put into practice.
And there is nothing in our lives to indicate God's peace is at all a part of our being. And it's only one week after Easter.
God invites us to open up the doors. And if we don't have enough faith to throw them wide open, then open them up just a crack.
That's all God needs to work miracles in our lives. That's all God needs to engulf us with peace, to grant us the courage to respond to suffering with compassion,
to give us the willingness to forgive, and to live out our lives free from fear. Good Friday is behind us.
And before us is a world just aching to experience the good news. Retired Bishop Barbara C. Harris has said, "We are an Easter people in a Good Friday world."
May God give us the courage to live out our lives – both individually and as a church –
as an Easter people, on the outside of our formerly closed and locked doors of fear. Amen.