Easter 2
Acts 4:32-35; John 20:19-31
April 19, 2009
Has your life changed since Easter?
When we come upon the disciples in John’s Gospel story this morning, surprisingly little has changed since last week. Last week, two of the disciples had gone to Jesus’ tomb and discovered it was empty. Then, we were told, they returned to their homes. We didn’t get a report of the other disciples after they fled from Jesus’ side when he was arrested. But whatever they’ve been up to, it doesn’t merit mention in the Gospel stories. And this week, here are the disciples gathered together in a locked room. They’re fearful and wondering what has just happened. They know Jesus isn’t in the tomb -- they’ve heard that he has risen. But they still haven’t done anything about it.
And in sweeps Jesus, meeting them right where they are, somehow appearing with them in that locked room. And he says, “Stop sitting around! It’s time to get your minds out of the empty tomb and head out into the world!” Well, maybe he doesn’t say it in those words exactly. “As the Father has sent me,” Jesus instructs them, “so I send you.”
And finally, as we know from church history, it stuck.
No longer fearful, they left the safety of the locked room and rushed out into the world to share and live the story. They began to boldly tell about the God whose love for us prompted God to live among us, die for us, and rise again in triumph. They began to teach and heal and love and eat with the same kinds of people Jesus had. And in doing so, they threatened the values of the most powerful empire in the world and at least a few of them were killed as a result.
“As the Father has sent me,” Jesus instructs them, “so I send you.”
First God came into the world as Jesus and changed everything. Then it was the disciples’ turn to head into the world and change everything. And now, as we hear the Gospel story this morning, it’s our turn.
It’s our chance to take resurrection seriously.
When I was preparing for my sermon this week, I realized that this is my fourth year in a row preaching the Sunday after Easter. And every year it’s this same Gospel story about the disciples bunkered up in their locked room; this same story about poor Thomas who wanted to see before he believed; the same story where not a whole lot has changed since Easter. And also every year on this Sunday, we get this collect. On the second Sunday of Easter every year we pray that “all who have been reborn into the fellowship of Christ's Body may show forth in their lives what they profess by their faith.” May we show forth in our lives what we profess by our faith.
Every year that line stops me in my tracks.
Last week’s service was beautiful, with the flowers and the music and the joy of gathering together to celebrate. But, as our collect this morning so brutally reminds us, Easter isn’t bunnies and butterflies. Easter isn’t something to momentarily enjoy, a warm feeling in your heart. Easter is an explosion! Easter is what threw Jesus’ followers out into the world bursting with a story to tell and work to do. And now it’s our turn to have Easter redefine us, to have Easter recast our lives and give us an entirely new reality. To have Easter turn us into people who “show forth in our lives what we profess by our faith.”
Which of course will entail something entirely different for each one of us, but I’m going to share a vision of what I think I’ve seen that look like.
One summer when I was in college I visited my sister in Russia where she was working with African refugees. The refugees were men and women who had fled their countries because of persecution. They’d been forced to leave their homes, their friends, and often their families behind to start over with nothing in a new, strange land. They were sleeping on floors and sofas in cramped apartments with few amenities, struggling to find jobs, facing racism and sometimes threats and abuse from the local people. But these exiles had somehow managed to create a community despite their circumstances. They worshipped together, they laughed and cried together, and they ate together.
But their circle was not a closed one. One afternoon they invited my sister and me to lunch. We filled up the sparse apartment, sitting wherever we could and balancing paper plates piled with delicious African dishes on our knees. We shared stories and laughter. And then we had a sort of impromptu worship service that was deeper and more joyful than anything I’d ever experienced. They made me – a virtual stranger from around the world who spoke a different language and had a completely different life experience – feel a part of them. And they made me – a well-off educated woman with pretty much any future ahead of me I chose – want what they had. I learned that day, although I often forget, that having nothing can’t stop you from having everything. That having little needn’t stop you from sharing what you have. And that being poor doesn’t have to stop you from living abundantly.
To me, looking back, those kind and gracious hosts have always represented resurrection.
And my memory of that experience looks surprisingly like the snapshot we got this morning in our reading from Acts of the way the early followers of Jesus lived together in community. Here we see the earliest Christians, organized into a tightly knit community that shared worship, daily meals, and even their property. We are told that “the whole group was of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.” “With great power they gave testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus.” And “there was not a needy person among them.”
Oh, what a vision! However idealistic or short-lived or utterly impractical, what an incredible vision. And an incredible challenge to us.
Theologian Karl Barth said that scripture isn’t just revelation but vocation, most passages embedded with summons to us to live as disciples. The readings this morning that I find so challenging and convicting are addressed to me. And they’re addressed to you all too. We all have the same choice the disciples had in that locked room – will we remain in the safety of our status quo, or will we head out into the world and start living as Easter people?
As we learn from the experience of Peter and Paul (and people like Harriet Tubman and Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Mother Teresa and Kerry Kincannon who runs Rising Hope down on Route 1), taking resurrection seriously is no picnic. True resurrection will expose us and make us vulnerable. It will challenge our idols and disturb our powers. Living out Easter may involve conflict and risk, and it may mean giving up our security. But it also has the power to redeem our despair, expand our circles, and help us live and love and forgive with abundance.
In Acts we see the people’s response to the fresh news of the resurrection. What is ours?
Elizabeth Rees