A bunch of
terrified disciples, holed up together somewhere in the back alleyways of
Jerusalem. Jesus appearing out of
nowhere and speaking those precious words of freedom, “Peace be with you,” even
as he showed off his scarred hands and wounded feet.
Isn’t this
where we were last Sunday – same story, different Gospel? Today’s reading has a couple of added
details, of course – and they are really marvelous ones – definitely worth
noting.
It is in this
version of an appearance story that the disciples, in their doubt, confusion,
and disbelief, wondered whether this “whatever it was” that had crashed their
hideaway – at breakfast no less - and claimed to be the Risen Christ was in
reality only a ghost, just an apparition.
The rational
side of the disciples attempted to explain away the mysterious encounter - rather
like Ebeneezer Scrooge did in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Perhaps, like Mr. Scrooge initially thought on
that fateful Christmas Eve, the dinner gravy had been too rich, or a morsel of
meat just did not agree with them.
As
Presbyterian pastor, Mark Roberts writes, “You just gotta love those disciples! Even after the resurrection, they
still had the hardest time getting things right. Though they had heard that
Jesus had risen from the dead, and though Jesus Himself had predicted this,
when He appeared among them, they freaked out.”
However, once
again, instead of being angry at their ignorance or just downright belittling concerning
their lack of faith, Jesus graciously offered them proof – and not just his
hands and feet this time. In a
delightful addition that only the Gospel writer of Luke conveys, Jesus asks for
a piece of fish. Before their very eyes,
he wolfs it down and then simply asks, “Hey, could a ghost do that?” How
much more down to earth can you get?
The Gospel
writer so wants us to believe that Christ is risen, Christ is risen
indeed. The Gospel writer so wants us to
affirm that the love of God was profound enough and deep enough to overcome the
chains of death itself. The Gospel
writer so wants us to recognize that Jesus continues to this very day to maintain
a unique relationship with his followers and those who call him Lord – this in
spite of any folly, confusion, and doubt. For the Gospel writer, Jesus truly lives – not as a
resuscitated corpse like Lazarus, but as a new, albeit mysterious and
confounding, transformed being.
It is a
nice story. I am sure we can all agree
on that. However, come on, Easter Sunday
was two weeks ago now. How much longer
do we need to deal with this resurrection business? When do we move on? How many times do we need to be told that
Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed?
How many
different ways do we need to be reminded that, in the words of South African
activist and retired Anglican bishop, Desmond Tutu, “goodness is stronger than evil, love is stronger than hate, light is stronger than darkness, and
life is stronger than death?” How many
times do we need to recall that “victory is ours, victory is ours, through the
God who loves us?”
A noted pastor named R.W. Dale had preached scores of Easter sermons.
Then, one year, something different happened. Dale was completely overwhelmed
by the confession, "He is risen." Never before had the truth dawned
so forcefully. The pastor was
transformed. Subsequently, he instituted a policy calling for the congregation
to sing an Easter hymn every single Sunday of the year.
The answer to our question about how long, how
long do we dwell on the empty tomb and the fact of the Risen Christ is
encompassed in that policy. The answer
is that we never stop dwelling on it.
In fact, every Sunday is a “little
Easter.” Every Sunday when we come here
to worship, through our songs and our prayers and our words, we ought to be
reminded of the Risen Living Christ – every Sunday, not just on Easter.
One day a teacher asked the children in her fourth grade
class to name the person whom they considered the greatest human being alive in
the world today. The responses were
quick and varied.
A little boy spoke up and said,
"I think it's Tiger Woods. He's the greatest golfer in the world,
ever"
A little girl answered, "I
think it's the Pope because he cares for people and doesn't get paid for it at
all."
Another little boy proclaimed,
"I think it's my mom because she takes care of me and my brother."
Over and over again, kids cited one celebrity after another.
Finally another child spoke up, and
he replied, " I think it’s Jesus Christ because he loves everybody and is
always ready to help them."
The teacher smiled and replied,
"Well I certainly like your answer because I also admire Jesus. But
there's one thing that's wrong. I said the greatest living person, and of
course Jesus lived and died over two thousand years ago. Do you have another
name in mind?"
However, the child did not miss a
beat when he responded, "Oh no, that's not right at all. Jesus Christ is
alive!” The child patted his chest where
his heart would be and said, “He lives in me right now!" Sounds like a
Will or Emily answer to me – simple yet deeply profound.
Every Sunday, here in worship, we
ought to be reminded that Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed. Every Sunday, we ought to be reminded of the
nature of reconciliation and the power of love that lies at the heart of the
story of Jesus. Every Sunday, we ought
to be reminded that the Risen Christ indeed lives within us. Every Sunday, we ought to be reminded of the
challenge that such an intimate relationship presents to us. Every Sunday is an Easter Sunday, and so in a
sense we are never finished with this resurrection business. Easter is inside us now. It is part of us. We are – and always will be – Easter people.
So, then, whatever does that mean
for us – and for the way we live outside of these four walls of worship? How can we make this message of Easter that we
affirm every Sunday morning live vibrantly in us day by day by day? Can we learn anything from this experience of
the disciples that the Gospel writer of Luke chose to include in his narrative?
Well, first off, perhaps like me you
can take great comfort in an observation of Mark Roberts (whom I quoted
earlier): “Now I don't know about you, (he said) but
this (the disciples’ reaction to the appearance of Jesus) gives me lots of
hope. It means that I don't have to be a paragon of faith to be a disciple of
Jesus. It means I can have my doubts, my fears, and my confusions, and still be
the kind of person Jesus accepts, no, the kind of person Jesus chooses,
to be one of His disciples. If you're someone who struggles with faith, if you
find yourself doubting and confused, you should be mightily encouraged by this
story. You're just the sort of person Jesus wants.”
And second, perhaps like me you can
derive great hope for the world in the fact that Jesus believed enough in a bunch of frightened, confused
defeatists who could not see past the four walls of their locked upper room,
believed in them enough to give them a mission –
and
that mission, according to this Gospel writer, was to be witnesses, witnesses
to all that God had done in their lives.
Now, whether you can rationally
fathom it or not, Jesus believes in us in the same way. We are not off the hook just because of the
millennia that lie between the Gospel writer’s frame of reference and
ours. Jesus gives us the same mission
that he gave to Peter, James, John, and the others. We too are called to be witnesses – witnesses
to all that God has done in our lives and in the world – and because we call
ourselves Christians – done through and in the Risen Christ.
Because we are Easter people, we
must also be witnesses. As William
Loader, a pastor of the Uniting Church of Australia, wrote: “For Luke, to fulfill the hope of the
resurrection is to tell the story of Jesus.”
Now I know that in a mainline
Protestant church such as ours, the idea of witnessing is enough to make one’s hair
curl. I am sure that even now as I speak
images of revival tents, altar calls, and knocking on doors like Mormons and
Jehovah’s Witnesses are flooding your brains.
However, I am here to tell you that witnessing does not have to be that
way. It does not have to make your hands
clammy or boost your blood pressure.
Lutheran seminary professor, David
Lose, puts it this way. “I actually think we… witness all the time…What
I mean is that we bear witness to things that are important to us (every day). We bear witness to the great movies or
television programs we've seen and want others to enjoy. (Hey, I got Donna
watching “The Middle” and “Modern Family”) We bear witness to the
accomplishments (or failures) of our sports teams. (Look at Lori around Super
Bowl time – or Muriel when the Red Sox are in the play offs.)
We bear witness to the important
events in our family or work lives. (Which one of us has not bragged about a
child or grandchild?)
We bear witness -- that is, tell
someone about -- the things that matter to us all the time.
It's not really all
that different when it comes to the faith.
Witnessing does not mean
shoving our faith down someone's throat or threatening them with eternal
hellfire if they don't believe like we do. It's simply telling others where we
sensed God at work -- at home or work, at church or school, through a stranger
or a friend, a doctor or teacher or neighbor, even through ourselves.
Bearing witness is nothing more than
saying where you think God is at work in your life and the world. We bear
witness all the time; we're just not used to thinking about doing it in terms
of our faith.”
Witnessing takes practice – and so I
challenge you as Easter people to do just that – practice. Intentionally practice with your family. Do you really know when your spouse or your
child sensed the spirit of God in their lives last week? Practice with your church friends. Do you really know when the person sitting
three rows back or two rows forward last felt deeply God’s closeness – or
perhaps complete absence? I have heard
people say that our church (even though we believe that God is at work here) is
one of the best-kept secrets in Raymond!
What do you think of that – and what are willing to do about that?
I am sure that the disciples had to
practice a bit among themselves before they ventured out to the ends of the
earth and transformed the world with their story. However, the potential difference between us
and the disciples is that at some point they actually did witness far and wide.
It was not a perfect story in the
sense that it was always well thought out and articulate, but then, they were
not telling it to perfect people, but rather simply to seekers like
themselves. And perhaps that made all
the difference.
You see, it is really quite a simple
mission that Jesus has given us. It just
takes practice. Go out (he says) – and
tell the story. That is it – rather
ordinary. Like Jesus appearing at
breakfast time and asking for a bite of fish to eat. Big deal!
So - fry up an egg, pour
some juice, and get to work.
by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church
www.rvccme.org
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