Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer (Psalm 19:14).

Monday, April 24, 2017

The Second Sunday of Easter - April 23

In This Room
John 20:19-31


All or most of you have received the letter I mailed this week saying that I will be moving to Montana.  If the Post Office sent yours to Nebraska or you recycled it without opening it, as I do with much of my mail, there are copies on the information tables.  The decision to go was both a very easy decision and a very hard decision.  Easy because there is no question it is the right thing for me at this time.  Hard, because it means leaving all of you.

My last Sunday here will be June 18.  So we have 8 weeks to reflect and share stories together.  Clergy in the church, apparently, have found that that is the “right” amount of time.

I’ve already been reflecting.  And I want to share one statistic with you.  A statistic, a number.  In my mind, at least, it’s connected to today’s Gospel reading.

We heard the familiar story from John’s Gospel of doubting Thomas.  The day of Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples were huddled together in fear in a room with the doors locked.  Jesus came to them to be with them in that room.  Never mind the locked doors.  Thomas wasn’t there and was reluctant to believe the other disciples’ story.  John tells us that a week later the disciples were again (still?) hiding in a locked room.  Thomas was with them.  And again Jesus came to with them in that room.

The statistic I want to share with you is the number of times since I have been here that we have gathered in this room to celebrate communion:  2,265.  I didn’t count each one.  We average about 170/year these days, multiplied by 13 ¼ years.  We have gathered in this room to celebrate the Holy Eucharist 2,265 times.

And Jesus has come to be with us in this room each and every one of those times.

This is not the only place that Jesus meets of course.  Nor is Communion the only occasion when we know him.

But, as Christians in a sacramental tradition, we affirm that he is always here in the breaking of the bread.  Always.  In this room when we gather around his table to break the bread and share the cup, he is with us.  Always.  When we participate in the sacrament of the New Covenant he shares himself with us.

In John’s account, Jesus walking through walls or Thomas touching his wounds is usually taken as “proof” of his resurrection and resurrected presence.

But for us today, I’m more interested in the walls and locked door as a metaphor.  Jesus came to be with the disciples despite the barriers they had put up.  Why were they hiding behind locked doors?  John says they were afraid.  Afraid that the situation that crucified Jesus was also a threat to them.  Were they maybe also trying to keep Jesus out?  Afraid of what his presence with them might mean for their lives?  In John, being enclosed and in darkness is a symbol for turning away from God. 

Regardless of why they were afraid, they put up what they hoped or imagined were impenetrable barriers.  And Jesus walked right through and came to them anyway.  Bringing light and life and peace.

We put up all sorts of barriers to keep Jesus out of our hearts and our lives.  And Jesus walks right through and comes to us anyway.

David Lose writes:  we gather so that we might…   be encountered by the Risen Christ one more time and be caught up in faith so that we may experience God’s abundant life.  We gather in this room at this table to be encountered by the Risen Christ.  Today for the 2,266 and 2,267th times.

He comes to be with us in this room, bringing abundant life and peace, oblivious to any barriers we may have put up.  He brings peace.  He says it over and over and over again.  Peace be with you.  My own peace I leave with you.

Thomas models for us the faithful response.  My Lord and My God!