The Call To Peace
a sermon by Rev. Rebecca Segers

Psalm 16:1-2, 5-11
John 20:19-31 

When we ended last week, Easter Sunday, we were with Mary Magdalene and Jesus.  Mary had visited Jesus’ tomb, found it empty of all except two angels who questioned her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”  She responded in anxiety and grief, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”  Then she turned around as if to head home or least to leave the tomb, and standing before her was Jesus, but she did not recognize him.  She thought he was the gardener, the groundskeeper for the cemetery as it were.  He, too, said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” and then continued, “Whom are you looking for?”  Mary answered in a way that added force to her previous statement to the angels, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”  Jesus then called her name, “Mary!” and she recognized him.  He continued on, telling her to go to his brothers, we assume he means the disciples, and to say to them that he is ascending to his father and their father, his God and their God.  Mary does go to the disciples and tells them that she has seen the Lord.

The author of John does not tell us how the disciples respond to her news.  Luke gives us no more information than John does.  Matthew says that Jesus tells her to tell the disciples to go to Galilee and they will see him there.  They follow directions and he does indeed show up as he says he will.  Mark says that the women tell the disciples and they don’t believe them.

One thing is for sure.  Chaos is the order of the day.  Rumors or seem-to-be rumors are flying about.  Some people are probably hoping that the rumors are true.  Others don’t buy that Jesus is returned.  People were people at the turn of the Common Era, just as people are people now.  If Jesus were to return today, and some people had seen him and it was reported in the New York Times and Newsday and on ABC, NBC, CNN and Channel 12, some of us would believe, some of us would hope it was true, some of us would think it was a great hoax, some of us would be annoyed that the media was perpetrating this myth!

John does tell us that the disciples are all together; hiding out for fear that the same authorities that crucified Jesus are going to come and get them.  Imagine: the doors are locked and men and women are huddled in small groups talking about the events of the past few days, reviewing mistakes made and replaying how it might have gone had they done things differently.  John doesn’t tell us it is the Eleven in the room, but simply the disciples, so the cast of characters might have included both men and women, some of the eleven – we know actually that Thomas isn’t there, because of the next section – but there may have been others in addition to the eleven, both male and female.  Imagine the conversations going on: Peter is remorseful over having denied the Lord, John is wondering about the implications of having Mary, Jesus’ mother, added to his household, Mary might be there, too, adding her two cents worth into the mix, and perhaps Salome, or Mary the mother of James or Joanna who are all mentioned in other gospel stories as going to the tomb.  Perhaps there are others present that are not directly referred to in the gospels, but disciples nonetheless.

It is the end of the day; the light is fading.  The room probably has only a slit or two for windows.  It is dim with perhaps a couple of lamps lit so that one might see well enough to get around, but things are probably not clear.  Then, John says, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”

Not there was a knock at the door, so and so went over and opened it and Jesus entered.  But simply, “Jesus came and stood among them.”  As I’ve told you before, John is the gospel with the highest Christology, meaning, he focuses less on Jesus’ humanity and more on his divinity than the other gospels: Jesus is most God-like in his stories.  Here is yet another example of this.  Mary is told not to touch him in the earlier story and now Jesus can walk through walls.  He is positively non-corporeal.  This is not the case of Jesus in Luke who eats a piece of broiled fish with them and in Matthew where they take hold of his feet and worship him.  John’s Jesus is spirit now.  A visible one, but the risen Christ’s human form is able to do more and other things than it was before death.

And the disciples are terrified!  They were afraid before and now they think they’re seeing a ghost.  The first thing Jesus says is “Peace be with you.”  He reassures them.  But not by saying, “Hey, guys!  I’m back!” or “Look!  It’s me!” or anything that you would think the risen Christ might say.  Instead he wishes them “peace.”

The Greek word for “peace” is ειρηνη.  Now ειρηνη implies more than what in twenty-first century America might think of when we think of the word “peace.”  The first thing that might come to our minds is the idea of national tranquility or the state of exemption from the rage and havoc of war.  This would be perfectly plausible given the post-911 culture we live in.  Another way that we might define peace is as harmony between individuals.  This is similar to the previous definition, but on a local rather than a global level.  But the peace that Jesus is talking about is coming within a different context.  Remember, our disciples are huddled in a locked room together for fear of persecution by the Jews and ultimately the Romans.  They are afraid of being strung up, hung up and crucified, the most hideous and painful death by torture that man has ever devised.  This was a death that was not limited to men, but women and children were also crucified or hung up upon a tree until they asphyxiated, a process that could take hours or days depending on the way the person was positioned on the cross, something ancient records tell us the Roman soldiers used to vary simply to amuse themselves.

Then in the midst of the fear and anxiety that the disciples are feeling, in the midst of their grief over the loss of their Lord and their concern over what they are to do next, Jesus comes and stands among them and gives them ειρηνη, “peace.”  He holds out his hands and shows them his side, that they might indeed know that it is truly him and not someone masquerading and then he repeats himself, saying ειρηνη ΄υμίν, which literally means “peace with you” but is translated with the verb intact that is implied “peace be with you” or I suppose it could also be thought of as “peace to you” or “peace in you.”  This is a different peace than anyone has ever known before.  This is the peace that comes over you before an operation or surgical procedure when you know that God is with you.  This is the peace of being in God’s presence, following God’s will.  This is the peace of Christ, that tranquil state of the soul who knows salvation and thus hope.

Anne Lamott, in her new book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, the book that by the way, the Book Discussion Group is reading this time around and I’ve gotten a jump on, tells a story about searching for this peace.  It is called “Red Cords” and starts with her telling of what she regards as an odd thing for a Presbyterian woman to wear – a thin red cotton cord that was blessed by the Dalai Lama, given to her by her Buddhist friend Jack Kornfield.  She says it’s quite ratty, with what looks like rings of laundry lint circling it.  She separates these rings with her thumbnail when she gets nervous; this reminds me in a way of a good Catholic saying the rosary.

Anne says she and Jack take walks together every few weeks when they’re both in town.  That on these walks, he teaches her as he teaches all his students, to slow down, breathe and take care of everyone, which she reminds us is the same message that Jesus taught – that breath is our connection to the holy spirit, to our bodies, minds and soul.  But breathing is not, unfortunately, one of her strong suits.  How many of us could claim the same?

Annie then goes on to tell a story of a day that was going very well until she had a huge fight with her teenaged son, Sam.  Over homework.  Which of course, he hadn’t done.  Well, she spluttered and fumed in the kitchen, stormed down the hall to her own bedroom, slammed the door and starting hitting it with her fist.  Then she laid down on the bed with her face in the mattress.  The cat came over to comfort her, but accidentally started chewing the red cord off her wrist.  Which brought Jack to her mind.  What would he do? she thought.  Usually his suggestion was to be kind, breathe and take a walk.  So she did.

It was drizzling outside, but she was so miserable and clueless that she put on a raincoat and tromped up into the open-space hills behind her house.  She takes the dog up there almost every day and finds it to be a quiet and holy space.  Up high on the hillside is a mysterious concrete piling where she likes to sit.  It provides her with a 360 degree view of her town and keeps her pants from getting wet.

Anne sat down.  The drizzle had stopped, but the air was still moist.  Although spring budding had not yet occurred, there was anticipation in the air and she could feel the leaves pushing through the willow trees even though there was no evidence quite yet of greenery.

She fiddled with her red cord, separating the rings of laundry lint that have appeared there.  She doesn’t know how they got there, but in addition to the three knots of blessing that Jack provided when he gave it to her, there are seven rings of lint.

Anne sat up on the hill, trying to relax.  She closed her eyes and began to get there when she realized how holy she was acting in the face of teenage angst and contempt and she began to be pleased with her grown-up spirituality, which of course then ruined it, when a woman arrived with three dogs.  She tried to close her eyes and breathe, to let the woman see that she was in holiness mode and it really wasn’t a good time to talk, but of course the woman didn’t get it, chatting away and so insistent upon conversation that Annie stood and reluctantly responded to her.  Finally, the woman went away, she sat back down to breathe in calm and grass and spring and oh, no…the smell of dog manure filled her nose, sharp as ammonia and foul.  It was, of course, on the bottom of her shoe.

She got up and pawed the offending shoe on the ground, but she was wearing one of those sneakers with thick grooves on the bottom and when she sat back down on the concrete piling and looked, there was an enormous amount of dog do embedded in its elaborate treads.

Muttering, she searched for a stick in the grass, and once she found one, she started picking it out, but it was slow going.  The poop was pebbly and stuck.  She says it was like picking burnt batter out of a waffle iron.  It took forever.

A light drizzle started up again, but Anne kept working at the shoe and then two things happened:  First, the project turned out to be strangely satisfying.  She slowly worked on the task, doing a good job of it and feeling good about that.  And next, she found herself in a state of joy.  She was focused, it was beautiful up on the hill and the poop was nearly out of her shoe.  And those three things added up to a lot more than the sum of the parts.

Anne says she doesn’t know why the most we can hope for on some days is to end up a little less nutty than the day before or why we have to become so vulnerable before we can connect with God.  But she also says she doesn’t know how she got rings of laundry lint on her red cord.  Sometimes the peace of Christ comes and we just need to be grateful that we’re sitting there in it.

So what happens next with the disciples?  Jesus has given them peace, and then he gives them a mission.  He tells them, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  And saying this, he breathes on them, telling them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”  Now this is John’s version of the Pentecost.  Here in this room full of frightened followers, Jesus passes the peace and the Holy Spirit.  Taking a group that seem no more likely to begin a world religion than fly to the moon, Jesus gives them all he has – His peace and His spirit – willing them to continue the job he has begun.

Then this story repeats in a way, only an individual level.  Thomas, who is not with the disciples when Jesus returns, comes back to the room.  We don’t know where he was or what he was doing.  Perhaps he was scoping out the scene in the marketplace finding out whether it is safe for them to come out of hiding.  Maybe he was buying food for them, taking the risk for them all in being seen in public.  He might have been visiting other followers, comforting them or perhaps he had familial obligations, after all he is known as the Twin, which means there is at least one other relative that is important to him around.  Whatever he was doing, he comes back to the room where everyone is hiding and finds out that he has missed the event of his lifetime.  Jesus showed up and he wasn’t there!

How many of us have had this feeling before?  We have a friend who seems to be in such connection with God while we seem to always out to lunch when the miracle arrives?  I’m sure Thomas was frustrated and furious, especially if he had been taking care of the whole group in his outing.  Plus he’s gotten a bad rap for 2000 years for being angry and unbelieving.

Come on, folks.  Let’s tell the truth here.  Thomas is no different from the rest of the disciples.  Mary has come and told them all about her seeing Jesus at the tomb.  They don’t believe her.  The couple from Emmaus has told everyone, the disciples included, about their supper with Jesus on the road.  They don’t believe them.  It is not until they see the Lord with their own eyes, until he comes and stands in the room with them and gives them peace that they believe.  So Thomas is no more doubting, no more skeptical, no more unbelieving than the rest of them.  But the poor guy has been maligned for centuries for his doubt.

I want us to look at this passage a new way today.  You see, I don’t think the point is that Thomas doubted as this passage has been traditionally interpreted.  I think the point the author is making is that Jesus is there for us globally and locally, in groups and as individuals.  Jesus comes to the disciples and gives them what they need to believe.  He shows them his hands and side and they rejoice.  He is there for them as he is here for us today in this sanctuary as a community.  He is here in this body, this group, this people – in our worship and praise, in our breath and our breathing, surrounding us and filling us as we spend time in corporate devotion.  But Jesus is also there for us individually when we need him.  Jesus knows that Thomas wasn’t there the day before.  Jesus hears his crying out in dismay and disappointment and frustration, “I will not believe until I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side.”  And Jesus shows up for him.  Jesus gives Thomas what he needs individually just as he gives to the disciples corporately.  And then, to top it off, he provides for us in the future, too.  He finishes off his appearance to Thomas with a beautiful statement, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

This is traditionally interpreted as a smack in the face to Thomas.  Jesus as disciplinarian, chiding the student who didn’t get it.  But there’s nothing here to suggest that Jesus’ tone of voice is unkind or reproachful.  Instead, it seems to me, that Jesus is offering hope to those who come after him.  He is gently saying to Thomas, “How lucky you are that I am here, now, for you.  For there will be others that come after who will not have me in the flesh.  Let them know just as you do that I am here and with them.  Let them believe and have life in me, too.”

Jesus is sending a message through Thomas that he is here and will continue to be here for all of us, granting us ειρηνη, “peace” when we ask for it.  It may not come in ways that we understand: it may show up while we’re doing a menial task like cleaning the kitchen, or doing the laundry or cleaning dog do out of a shoe.  It may be that we experience Christ’s peace by ourselves or when we are with others – I know I had a moment of such serenity and love and joy on Maundy Thursday as I looked out around the table of fellow worshippers sharing soup and conversation that it was definitely from God.  But how blessed was I to have Christ’s peace at that moment filtered through me.  It may be that we experience ειρηνη exactly when we expect to and it may come at other moments that are totally unexpected.

But this is the gift that we have been given.  Jesus calls us to peace.  The first words he says upon seeing them after his resurrection are “Peace be with you.”  The first words.  It is his call to them, to Thomas and to us.  Peace be with you, my friends.  Christ’s peace.  The peace that passes all understanding and that lets us know that we are his forever.  The peace that allows us to let go of family members’ angst, and our own lack of belief, and the trauma of living in a post-911 world with a war in Iraq and natural disasters around the globe.  The peace that enables us to fear nothing, but to know that God is with us, now and to the end of the age.  Amen.