It’s Not About Them (or Us)

Rev. Kyle Clark

Gospel Lesson: John 20:9-31; 1 John 1:1-2:2

April 19, 2009

Second Sunday of Easter

 “We saw it, we heard it, we felt it with our own hands and now we’re telling you so that you can experience it too.” That’s what the writer of 1 John says.

Peter says, “We are witnesses to these things” in the fifth chapter of Acts.

Bold proclamations. full of confidence and assurance. The kind of statements that can only be made by someone who has experienced something; who has been there and done that.

I was sharing with the Bible study group last Wednesday about my first worship experience at seminary. I was not even a student there at the time; I was there on a recruitment visit. We had gathered in Perkins chapel, several hundred of us. I was sitting on the aisle seat next to a lady I had never seen before (I still remember her; she was in her late 30’s wearing a purple blouse, she was about this tall, had black hair and glasses). The service was eclectic to say the least. There was a cantor there leading us all in chants and musical responses to the call to worship and the Lord’s Prayer. There was a jazz ensemble and a classic organist.

And there were dancers – liturgical dancers. They danced the Bible and the Communion elements in during the opening procession. They danced during the hymns. And to my horror they danced during one hymn. I wasn’t so much offended by the dancing as I was terrified of what I saw – they were dancing down the aisle, pulling people out of the pews to dance with them and they were coming my way.  

Well, I began praying. I prayed harder and with more sincerity than I think I had ever prayed before, “Lord Jesus, pleeeease don’t let them come take me.” I was hiding behind the hymn book. I was trying to pull this lady (I know she thought I was either crazy or some kind of pervert) I was trying to pull her to the aisle instead of me. It was a memorable worship experience. I tell the story not as a mere recitation of facts, I was there. I saw it all. I heard it all. I was witness to this.

Boldly confident are the proclamations by the writer of 1 John. Assurance born out of experience is Peter’s statement of witness. So what is “it” that has been seen, heard and felt? What did Peter and the others witness?

Well, it wasn’t the resurrection. Yes, I remember that it was just last week that we celebrated Easter, the Resurrection Day. But, if you recall, there were no disciples who came to the tomb according Mark’s Gospel, only the two Marys and Salome, and they ran away scared and silent. While the other gospels have one or some of the disciples, including Peter and the disciple Jesus loved, coming to the tomb, there is not one instance where anyone witnessed the resurrection. In every case the tomb was empty. All that anyone witnessed at the tomb was emptiness and absence.  That’s the reason they were locked in that room the night of the first Easter. That’s why they were huddled together, afraid and confused.

What was witnessed, what was seen and heard and touched was the resurrected Jesus. And that is significant. What is even more significant is the manner, the way, the circumstances in which the resurrected Jesus was seen, heard, touched and witnessed.

The passage from John’s gospel that we read today is both familiar and unusual. The account of Jesus appearing first to the disciples and then later to Thomas is one of three post resurrection stories of Jesus appearing to those closest to him found in the gospels. For most of us they are well known stories – Mary Magdalene encounters Jesus in the garden, the two disciples meet Jesus on the road to Emmaus, and this story today of Jesus coming to the disciples in a closed room (twice in John’s Gospel) – the first time Thomas is not there, the second time he is..

This passage is unique in that it is one of very few passages that is read every year in the lectionary cycle. John 20:19-31 is read every year the Sunday after Easter. And every year it seems like poor Thomas gets drummed by preachers everywhere for his lack of belief. Often the preacher’s attention turn quickly from Thomas to us, admonishing us for our perceived lack of belief. On occasion we might have heard a sermon on this text encouraging us as believers to go, like the disciples that saw the risen Lord, and tell others, those like Thomas who “don’t believe.” While these are certainly sermon worthy topics, to focus our attention on the doubt of Thomas or the evangelizing efforts of other disciples, I think, is to miss the main point. You see, this passage is not about them at all. And if it is not about the disciples, nor is this passage about us.

God is the actor. God is the doer, the initiator. God invades the tomb and disrupts the natural order of things, the order that tells us dead means dead. God instead brings forth life where there is supposed to be no life. Things change when God gets involved. That’s what we get from the gospel. One contemporary preacher and theologian says that the gospel does more than simply speak to the world, the gospel wants to change the world.[1] God is active and intrusive. In Jesus God comes into the world first as a man, but more than a man. God came as one who healed, as the one who ate with anyone willing to share a meal, as the one who loved enemies as well as neighbors, as the one who confronted powers that oppressed and embraced those on the margins, as the one who called ordinary people to share in his ministry, as the one who proclaimed the reign of God and then was put on a cross. Then God came again to those who were closest to him, who had locked themselves up in a room, full of fear and confusion and doubt, as the same man raised from the grave.  God continues what God has begun.

You see, it doesn’t matter that the disciples were hunkered down behind locked doors. It doesn’t matter why Thomas was not with the disciples that first night of Easter. It doesn’t matter that they all were full of fear, full of doubt. God, in Christ, the risen Christ came to them. “Peace,” he said to them and showed them all his wounds. And they were overcome with joy.

It doesn’t matter where we are either. In our times of need God comes to us in the people who care, who will listen, who are willing to share our pain and walk with us on the difficult paths that we all will sometimes have to journey. God comes to us in those who pray for us, even when we are unaware. In our times of plenty God comes to us in the faces of those who are hurting, those who have been wounded, those who have been overlooked and cast aside, so that we who have also been wounded can care, and listen, and journey with them. God comes to us in the words of Scripture, in times of prayer, in times of fellowship and in the Communion meal. God comes with the promise of peace and assurance and acceptance.

The disciples thought their teacher had been taken from them, snatched away by death. No amount of admonition to “believe” would suffice for them. Telling them that they just needed to have faith wouldn’t work. Their world had been ripped apart, their hearts crushed. They were beyond hope. Memories of their time spent with Jesus were not enough. They needed something more than memories and words of admonition. So, God came back to them – the very ones who had run away in fear.

God knew what I needed that day in Perkins Chapel – I needed more than words of calming reassurance. I needed to not be dancing in the aisle. God came in the form of a young man sitting in the pew directly in front of me. He jumped out and started dancing before they could reach me. And I felt peace. Both at that moment, and a little later when we celebrated Holy Communion, I experienced the risen Christ in a powerful way, to the point of being moved to tears – real comfort, real assurance, real peace, real confidence that God was there and active and leading the way.

And God comes to us as well. Like the disciples, we need more than platitudes and theories. We need more than some preacher saying to us “ye of little faith, believe” for surely we are not capable of doing that on our own. We need God, we need the resurrected Christ.

So, God comes. In that moment, faith is given. Faith you see, is not something that we conjure up ourselves. Faith comes with Christ and Christ with faith. Faith is given. Faith is a result of encountering the risen Christ. Faith transforms. Faith is experiential. Faith, this kind of faith that allows people to boldly proclaim, “we have seen, we have heard, we have witnessed,” only comes from God, the God who intrudes in the world, invades the tomb, overcomes death, and refuses to give up on us.

So, you see, the resurrection is God’s way of “getting back what belongs to him.”[2] May we all, regardless of where we are or where we find ourselves, be aware of this active and intrusive God coming among us and when we do may we all respond with bold proclamation because ultimately it really is all about God.

Amen.