MUMC Sermon-04/30/2006

This morning I will begin where Javier left off last week. “Peace be with you.” The words that echoed throughout the gospel lesson last week, spoken by Jesus to the astonished disciples and again to doubting Thomas, appear this week as well. Today we read Luke’s version of Jesus’ encounter with his disciples after the resurrection. The story couldn’t be more different than John’s, with the exception Jesus’ words to his friends, “Peace be with you.” It is as though this blessing is as important to the story as the fact that Jesus is alive again, for this is the only other detail shared by both accounts. So I say we proceed with that importance in mind.

This presumes, of course, that the fact Jesus is alive again is important to begin with. So before we get to peace, let’s talk about the resurrection. Much has been made of the possibility, authenticity, or likelihood of this event. Scholars have devoted entire lives to one side of the resurrection spectrum or the other. Many who “believe in” the resurrection keep it quiet at cocktail parties; many who do not keep it quiet here.

And because we are here, and not at a cocktail party, I want to say a few words on behalf of those who have quietly staked their tents on the doubting side of the field. In my opinion, there’s no need to keep it quiet at all, no matter the depth of your doubt. “Doubt that the crucified Jesus was also raised from the dead, doubt that God really did defeat death and evil, none of this is original with us…[it began with] Jesus’ first followers. [As Luke says,] ‘They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost.’” [1]

“Most Easter doubters whom I know are less startled and terrified than they are baffled. A couple of weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, with all the celebration and great music and the crowd, perhaps [you] were willing to believe. But just a few Sundays later, in the sober light of post-Easter…who can say for sure what it all means? [2]

“And what then of our doubt? [Well,] what does the risen Christ do? [How does Jesus receive the doubt and fear of his friends? Luke tells us] he ‘stood among them,’ and says to them, ‘Peace!’”[3] With two things Jesus responds to this doubt, this fear, this uncertainty: he shows up and he offers them peace. Which is exactly what we do every week near the beginning of our worship service. First, we show up, and then we offer one another a sign of peace. Doesn’t this act take on a little more meaning when you realize where we got it?

Good writers, I have heard it said, are those who know how to borrow well from better writers. Which is what we’re trying to do every Sunday, borrow well from Jesus. And this particular moment we borrow is not just some random Polaroid snapshot from his life; it is taken from an occasion of the disciples’ deep doubt and fear. And so when we repeat this week in and week out as a part of worship, it is as though we are saying to one another, “I know, I’m not sure either.” “You’re scared too, aren’t you?” “Jesus is alive? Can it really be?” In this act we all take on the role of bewildered disciples, as we hear the words they heard 2,000 years ago, “Peace be with you.” It’s a bold thing, to acknowledge such doubts and fears in a place like this. But the boldness has just begun.

Because in this act, not only do we hear the words, “Peace be with you,” we say them. We say them. We borrow, not only from the anxious disciples, but from the risen Jesus himself. And when we claim his words as our own, we claim the truth of his risen life as well. When we say, “Peace be with you,” we are saying, “Somehow the life I’m living is impossible without God. It’s miraculous really. And the amazing thing is, I’m realizing that my life isn’t mostly for me; it’s for you. And to you, in this moment, the single most important thing I can possibly say is, Peace be with you.”

And what of this peace? Given the context we’ve borrowed it from, it surely means more than “Have a nice day.” It’s much closer to the prophet Micah’s vision, from our Old Testament lesson today:

For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between many peoples, and shall arbitrate between strong nations far away; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more; but they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken. For all the peoples walk, each in the name of its god, but we will walk in the name of the Lord our God forever and ever. (Micah 5.1-4, NRSV)

If this is peace, then what can we say? Peace is no respecter of differences, national or otherwise. Peace is hard fought, but not with weapons. It is hard fought because swords don’t turn into plows by themselves; they are beaten, sweated over, and wrought. Peace is, most certainly, an absence of war; but most certainly it is more than that. Peace is also the absence of fear, the kind of inner turmoil that holds us all captive. Which makes me wonder, with all those protesting war, who is protesting fear?

Maybe we could. And we could begin with each other. We can stage poster-less protests on one another’s behalves (remember, our lives aren’t mostly for us), defiantly offering to one another “a sign of Christ’s peace.” We could repent for the ways we may have introduced fear into one another’s lives: by our words, our secrets, or our jealousy; by our lies, or gossip, or own fear. We could take our weapons of choice—whether we brandish them loudly or in secret—stop using them against each other, and beat them into tools for cultivating the fruits of love among us, our families, and our world.

When you think of it this way, really what are our options? Not to? I suppose, but there is not a single reason out there good enough to justify that. So with that settled, when? Later? Again, no reason. It has to be now.

This morning, we stand in the same place as the disciples did long ago. The life of the risen Jesus is ours to live. He has given us his peace, and it is now, now, ours to give. In closing, and hoping my earlier suggestion about writers is correct, I’ll borrow from Javier: “Peace be with you. Peace be with you. Peace be with you.” Amen.

[1] Willimon, William. Pulpit Resource, Vol. 34, No. 2, Year B, (p. 26)

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.