2B Easter
11 Apr 2021
The second Sunday of Easter. Doubting Thomas Sunday. I read that at least three locations claim to have the index finger of Thomas as a relic. Who is to prove them wrong? Even DNA would likely not offer proof unless it were to conclusively show said finger did not come from someone of Palestinian origin. Then it would ruin the legend of the shrine; I suspect folks would just as soon leave sleeping dogs lay, or rather sleeping fingers.
The last time I preached on this text was at a wedding. When Reg and Bruce married here two years ago, the second Sunday of Easter is the day the
y chose, and the rubrics required me to use the lectionary texts. Luckily, they both thought it fit well with their own journey as a couple. The hermeneutics of suspicion is what the theologians would call healthy questioning.
So today I am giving Thomas a rest. Instead I want to talk about wounds and the Holy Spirit; two seeming disparate topics.
As a physician I have seen some awful stuff but nothing like what a soldier would see in the horror of war or what first responders find after mass shootings or mass disasters of any kind. Seeing something that raw; seeing humans reduced to something barely recognizable would take a toll on me and probably you that might leave us both in eternal PTSD. But it is not just the open wounds of wars or gun violence or any other form of physical violence; it is the wounds inside of us. We really don’t want to see those who are recently or permanently wounded inside of our churches. We want to see Jesus’ scars; welcome people with well healed scars into our midst; it is the open wounds that make us all uncomfortable. That was not the case with the disciples, those men and women gathered in a small room because of fear and depression. They, in fact, relished the wounds. Jesus came as flesh and blood with fresh, raw wounds and they welcomed him. Their fears were relieved.
At just the point of their relief does something astounding: he bequeaths the Holy Spirit upon them. He does this on the same day that the women had found the tomb empty. The spirit is given, literally thrown at them without a chance to say no, in that locked room on that first post resurrection Sunday evening. John does not require a cooling
off period or forty days of reflection. There was no chance to escape, no out, no saying, “Sorry Jesus, I am not ready for this; give me more time to think about it.” It was given, whether it was wanted was not an option offered by Jesus. I think the Spirit is given to all of us from the beginning of our lives; sadly many never sense the presence or the working of the Spirit in their own lives and yet many who are not Christian full of the Spirit. The wind blows on the good and the bad, the lost and lonely and those who are at peace.
Along with the spirit came the power to forgive or not forgive sin. That power of forgiveness was given to all, not just clerics. You have that power. And Jesus did not say to forgive all sins; he called his followers to know when to forgive and when to not forgive. There are times when one should not forgive: corporate sin such as genocide needs to be remembered. There comes a time when restorative justice calls for truth and reconciliation and then forgiveness is possible; but we never want to forgive such atrocities before restorative justice is implemented. Our own nation’s failure to acknowledge the sin and still ongoing legacy of racism is another example of what should not be forgiven until there is truth and then reconciliation and justice.
I am not sure I want this power to forgive or not forgive sins; it seems at times too big a burden to bear. I, unlike some in the Christian community, am not always sure what constitutes a sin. Some folks seem to know more about what God had, or has, in mind than God own self does. Those folks are in certainty of their role and judge and
juror. In a way I envy them their certainty; I am always in a state of questioning myself when I feel something is a sin. There are times when I am quite certain something is wrong and is what we call sin: when harm is brought to another human, even indirectly and unintentionally as in the damage done to millions by climate change, or to any living creature (other than for self-protection or consumption) or to anything that God has created is a sin. Other times the concept of sin seems more nuanced. Perhaps the definition of anything that separates us from the love of God should serve as the foundation.
We are left with much guidance: the example of Jesus himself in his life and work. Each Gospel relates attributes of Jesus and of a kindom life; it is perhaps distilled best in John as the commandment to love. Love is to care for all, whether in your family and your tribe or a distant land or a sworn enemy. That is one reason why I find the Holy Spirit so hard to accept. There are too many times I do not want to love my enemy, too many times I want only to care for those around me who care for and about me.
But our marching orders are clear: receive the Holy Spirit and live the Kindom life. The people who heard John’s Gospel were being rejected by mainstream Judaism; Christianity was developing into a separate faith and one lacking any protections from government. They were being expelled from the tribe in which they were raised; there was a significant risk of becoming an unwilling or perhaps a willing martyr. Nevertheless they persisted. Had you heard this Gospel you would be told to believe and have faith; Jesus was long dead an
d gone but he lived, and you believed by faith alone. Just as we believe not because we saw Jesus, but because we have faith.
We are to throw ourselves full force into a faith that always seems like one giant oxymoron. The founder of the faith overcomes death by dying. We are to love those who hate us; even to the point of offering our lives (which if we lose we will find). We are to forgive but never forget sin, for God demands both justice and forgiveness.
This is a hard faith you have chosen. But this is spring and it is the season of Easter. Joy should come into our lives. This week Alan, in his letter, included a Prayer for Play. The author pointed out that rolling down a hill or skipping did not constitute survival skills, but rather was play, pure and simple.
God created play and art and poets. And poets speak of resurrection.
And so says e.e. cummings:
i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth day of life and love and wings:and of the gay great happening illimitably earth) how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any-lifted from the no of all nothing-human mere
ly being doubt unimaginable You? (now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)[1]
[1] e. e. cummings. i thankyou God for most this amazing. 100 Selected Poems. Grove Press 1994. Eric Whitacre composed a chorale work incorporating the words of this poem.
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