Sunday, April 08, 2018

The Community of the Risen Christ

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
April 8, 2018

Year B: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 4:32-35
Psalm 133
1 John 1:1-2:2
John 20:19-31

The Community of the Risen Christ
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            Although by now the world has moved on – although by now the Easter candy has been marked down and priced to sell – although by now most of the decorations have been taken down and baskets put away for another year – although by now the world has moved on from Easter – here in church, here in the community of the Risen Christ, here it is still Easter!
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            And, it is still Easter at the start of today’s gospel passage. To be precise, it is the evening of the first Easter, when the Risen Christ appears to his frightened disciples – the disciples who were frightened of the authorities who had killed Jesus – and also, perhaps, frightened of the Lord who had every reason to be disappointed and angry at their behavior just a few short days earlier.
            Yet, the first words of the Risen Christ to the community are: “Peace be with you.”
            But, as we know, not everyone was present in the community that night when the Risen Lord appeared, offering peace.
            The Apostle Thomas was missing – and I always wonder why. I always wonder where he was – why wasn’t he there with the rest of the community?
            We know almost nothing about Thomas. He only gets a few spoken lines in the Gospel of John, but although he’ll always be remembered as “Doubting Thomas,” the little we know indicates that in fact he was a man of courage.
            At one point when Jesus announces he’s heading into hostile territory, Thomas declares to his fellow disciples: “Let us also go that we may die with him.”
            And, at the Last Supper, it’s Thomas who has the courage to ask out loud what everybody was probably thinking but was too afraid to admit:
            “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”
            So, I always wonder why courageous Thomas wasn’t with the others, wasn’t part of the community that first Easter night.
            In my imagination, I see him off by himself somewhere – maybe out in the wilderness crying and shouting up at the sky – disgusted at himself and the others for their cowardice in abandoning Jesus in his suffering – angry maybe at God also, for seeming to also abandon Jesus – and furious at our broken world that kills messengers of hope and peace.
            But then the others report the most amazing news and Thomas… doubts. He doubts Jesus and his promise to rise again but even more than that he doubts the other disciples, he doubts the community – and, let’s face it, considering their pretty poor track record, we’d doubt them too.
            A week later, though, the Risen Christ appears to the community again and this time Thomas is there and he doesn’t have to touch the wounds because he sees all he needs to see and then says more than he probably understood:
            “My Lord and my God!”
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            The story of Doubting Thomas is of course meant to encourage us to believe even though we don’t see the Risen Christ in the flesh as he and the first disciples did.
            But, this year in particular, I notice that almost always in the gospels the Risen Christ appears not just to an individual – he could have appeared to Thomas wherever he was, right? – but, instead, the Risen Christ almost always appears to the community – almost always appears in the community.
            And, what was true for the first disciples is true for us today:
            We are the community of the Risen Christ.
            And, while it’s certainly true that we can encounter the Risen Christ as we walk through the park admiring the beauty of creation or as we look into the wondering eyes of a child or as we pray alone in our room, or anywhere anytime, the truth is that despite the church’s many flaws and failings, the Risen Christ appears most clearly here in the community, here when we are gathered together.
            And, as my predecessor, mentor, and friend Dave Hamilton said the last time he preached here at St. Paul’s, “I don’t have to believe it because I’ve seen it.”
            Since Dave will be here next Sunday he’s been on my mind more than usual and I’ve been thinking a lot about when Sue and I first arrived here and what this community of the Risen Christ has meant for us ever since.
            That first Sunday, nearly twenty years ago now, we walked in not knowing what to expect but we found this handsome old building and this beautifully diverse congregation and we also encountered a remarkable one-of-a-kind priest – sort of gruff guy, definitely smart and funny, and, most of all, always willing to show his scars and admit he’s just another sinner on the road just like the rest of us.
            That first Sunday, having spotted us as newcomers, Dave made a point of coming down the aisle at the peace, reached out his hand to us, and said,
            “Hi, I’m Dave. Welcome to St. Paul’s.”
            And, with a certainty I had rarely known before or have known since, I knew this was exactly right – the beginning of our membership in this community where Sue and I – and I’m hoping you too – see the Risen Christ all the time.
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            I’ve also been reflecting on Holy Week and Easter and, you know, for the past four years the highlight of Holy Week for me, and I’m sure at least some of you, has been our Good Friday Stations of the Cross Procession as we carry the cross to places of suffering and violence in our neighborhoods.
            However, you may be surprised to learn that not everyone thinks this is a good or even appropriate idea.
            Over the years I’ve heard from other Christians that our procession is not focused enough on Christ - that somehow we muddy the waters by focusing both on the suffering of Jesus two thousand years ago and the suffering of our neighbors today.
            In fact, a discussion along those lines broke out on Facebook after this year’s procession.
            While I sort of understand where people are coming from when they raise these concerns, my experience is that carrying the cross through our streets is pretty much the most Christ-centered thing we do all year – and I’m more deeply aware of and moved by Christ’s suffering when we’re out on the cracked sidewalks and potholed streets than when we’re safe and secure worshiping here in church.
            And carrying the cross through the streets and witnessing the brokenness of our community is also a most powerful reminder that the Risen Christ still bears the wounds of his crucifixion – that the Risen Christ is the wounded Christ who invited Thomas and invites us to see and even touch his wounds - and believe.
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            In today’s first lesson from the Acts of the Apostles we hear a probably at least somewhat idealized vision of the early Church where “the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul” and they shared all that they had and gave powerful testimony about the Risen Lord.
            The truth is that we are more often like the first disciples: frightened, confused, and divided – with some, like Thomas, separated from the community, at least for a time.
            Certainly much of the history of the Episcopal Church in Jersey City has been a discouraging tale of fear, confusion, and division – a long way from the church of Acts, the church of “one heart and soul.”
            But, you know, over the past few months, I’ve been seeing the Risen Christ more clearly in our communities – in this community – as we’ve worked to set aside our fear, confusion, and division and moved closer to the oneness that has been God’s dream and God’s will for us all along.
            Now, I can see the Risen Christ more clearly in this place – clearer even than that day that Sue and I first walked through those doors.
            As a great priest once said, “I don’t have to believe it, because I’ve seen it.”
            Yes, we still have a ways to go and our community won’t ever be perfect, and yet, here together as the Community of the Risen Christ, we can join with the Apostle Thomas who saw – who really saw – and cried out,
            “My Lord and my God!”
            Alleluia! Christ is risen!
            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
            Amen.