Sunday, April 23, 2017

The Wounded God

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ
April 23, 2017

Year A: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

The Wounded God
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            Last week we had the most amazing Easter celebrations here at St. Paul’s.
            I think they were about as perfect as anything we’ve ever done, about as perfect as our worship can be.
            This place always looks great, but on Sunday it was a glimpse of heaven.
            I loved looking out at so many people, so many diverse and beautiful people, who came to church for many reasons, I guess, but, in the deepest parts of their hearts, they – we – were here for Good News, for the best news of all time:
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            The music at the Easter Vigil and the 10:00 Easter Day service was about as good as it gets – and at 10:00 we started with the premiere of our Children’s Bell Choir.
            When I heard those beautiful tones rung by our beautiful kids, I knew everything was going to be just fine.
            And, of course, there were the baptisms.
            What an honor and a blessing to baptize Liam and Luca McCahill at the Vigil (who were pretty good sports during a long service that went way past their bedtimes) and then on Easter morning to baptize Luca Thompson who gave a nice loud cry as he officially joined our Christian community.
            I could go on, but, thanks to the hard work of some dedicated and loving people, it all really was amazing.
            On Sunday afternoon, despite being pretty tired, it felt like I practically floated out of church.
            It really was Easter.
            And, since Easter is more than just a day, since Easter is a whole season of fifty days, it’s still Easter today.
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed!
            It’s still Easter for us and in today’s gospel lesson it’s still Easter for the disciples.
            Actually, for them, it’s Easter evening.
            But, unlike us, they’re not joyful, at least not yet. For the disciples, it must have been a most confusing time.
            These closest followers of Jesus were still understandably afraid of the authorities, afraid that what had happened to Jesus was now going to happen to them, so afraid that they kept the doors locked.
            But, at the same time, some of them had seen the empty tomb, and by now all of them had heard the stories of something unexpected, had heard that maybe God had made yet another unexpected turn, made the most unexpected turn of all, raising Jesus from the dead.
            When I try to visualize the scene, I can imagine the room as very quiet but I can also imagine the room filled with lots of chatter as the disciples traded stories, trying to make sense of what had happened, of what was happening.
            Suddenly, into this most confusing scene, steps the Risen Christ.
            A locked door is no obstacle for him.
            “Peace be with you,” he says.
            And, then, notice what the Risen Christ does next: he shows his wounds, shows his wounded hands and his wounded side.
            Jesus knows that the disciples will recognize the Risen Christ most clearly by his wounds.
            This is still the same Jesus, risen, transformed, and wounded.
            The wounded God.
            Of course, not everybody was there that night to see the Risen Christ.
            The Apostle Thomas was absent and when the other disciples tell him about seeing the Risen Lord he famously doubts them, and knowing the disciples’ track record, I’m pretty sure we would doubt them, too.
            But, Thomas doesn’t just doubt. Thomas insists that he will only recognize Jesus by his wounds:
            Thomas says, “Unless 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, I will not believe.”
            And, sure enough, we’re told that a week later the Risen Christ appears again to the disciples, and this time Thomas is there.
            The Risen, but still wounded, Christ shows Thomas his hands and his side – and that’s all the apostle needs to see.
            In joy and shock, Thomas cries out the truth, saying more than he probably understood, “My Lord and my God!”
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            The disciples recognize the Risen Christ by his wounds.
            This is still the same Jesus, risen, transformed, but still wounded.
            The wounded God.
            You know, if we were God, if we were writing the story, I bet that after Easter, we’d make sure that Jesus’ wounds were completely healed, that they vanished without even the faintest scar, right?
            But, no, the wounds of Jesus remain, reminding us of the cross, reminding us that, in a sense, God is wounded, too – reminding us that, if we look, this wounded God can be seen in the wounds, and among the wounded, all around us.
            So, yes, last week we recognized the Risen Christ when we gathered for our Easter celebrations, when we heard the glorious music and smelled the fragrance of the flowers, when we washed three children in the water of Baptism and when we heard the Word of God and received Christ’s Body and Blood.
            But, if we looked, we could also recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ on Good Friday.
            If we looked, we could also recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ when we were joined by a man whose wife had just died a few days earlier in a very public and tragic way, a man who couldn’t think of a better place to be than walking with Jesus and walking with us.
            If we looked, we could also recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ when we walked up and down the streets and sidewalks, sidestepping broken glass and gaping holes in the concrete, past some well-kept homes and many more in disrepair, as we were watched by people hanging out of windows or hanging out on corners, trying to make sense of this strange spectacle.
            If we looked, we could also recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ in the faces of at least two grieving mothers who walked with us, two women still mourning the senselessly violent deaths of their sons, whom they loved so much.
            If we looked, we could also recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ, at each station, at each place where a brother or sister was injured or killed, dying for not very much at all, so many wounded and wasted lives.
            If we looked, we could also recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ, in the police officers walking and riding with us, men and women who go to work each day not sure if they’ll make it back home, cops who, at the end of our walk, all came forward to gratefully to receive a blessing.
            As the Apostle Thomas understood, if we look, we can recognize Risen Christ in the wounds. We can recognize the Risen Christ in the wounded – and not just on Good Friday.
            Last week, on Easter Day, while you and I were still floating after our beautiful celebrations, there was yet another shooting in Jersey City, a shooting that left a nineteen year-old young man dead and a ten year-old girl seriously injured.
            If we look, we can also recognize the Risen, but still wounded Christ, right there at that bloodstained spot on Ocean Avenue.
            And, the wounds are not just a result of violence and murder.
            If we look, we can recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ in the wounds of the people around us, the people who are so disappointed by how their lives turned out, the people who are so afraid of the future, the people mourning lost loves, the people regretting the roads not taken, the people who couldn’t work up the courage or the energy to be here with us last week.
            And, yes, if we look, we can recognize the Risen, but still wounded, Christ in our own wounds, in our own woundedness.
            Last week the Risen Christ was especially present here in this beautiful place, but the Risen Christ was and is also always especially present in our wounds.
            The wounded God lives among - and loves - all of us wounded people, breaking through locked doors to say, “Peace be with you.”
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            Amen.