A Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter
The Rev. Patricia Gillespie
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 98
1 John 1:1-2:2
Luke 24:36b-48
"Yea, Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ..." Walking in the darkness.
Been there. Done that. It's true for most of us. It happens when ... The doctor says it's cancer. (Or) a loved one betrays us. (Or) we face the devastation of unemployment.
The dark places of our lives. The hollow, aching empty black holes of loss. It may be the overwhelming darkness of the death of a loved one or the shadows of disappointed hopes, large and small Or our own shadows -- our failures, our selfishness, our sin.
We know what it's like to walk in darkness. Most of us, too, know how it feels when someone lets a hint of light - a hint of hope - into our darkness. When someone says things like: "The cancer is in remission." "I still love you.." "There will be no layoffs." It's just too good to be true.
Like the disciples in that dark room when faced with the Risen Lord, we know the confusion of fear and wonder, and we know the doubt and the joy that disbelieves.
Fearful wonder -- In the middle of our darkness shines the Easter Light This is the message ... "that God is light and in God there is no darkness at all."
Our churches should all be brightly lit because God says, "Let there be light!" and then God calls the light good. ... because God says, "I am the Light of the World." ... because God lights up our lives, like tongues of flame.
"God is light and in God there is no darkness at all" We are asked to walk in the light --- So I won't look at the darkness, only at God. I'll shut out everything else with blinders.
Don't look! I won't look at Ann's cane, because it reminds me that our bodies fail us. I won't look at the river, because it reminds me of flood victims.
I don't want to be reminded of the brokenness and woundedness of world I want to see only light. I won't look at the darkness where no one is beating swords into plowshares, and where only a select and selfish few have their own vines and fig trees.
I won't look at the TV, because I'll see starving children with fragile shoulders and swollen bellies. I won't look at the newspaper, because I'll see 7th graders carrying guns to school. I won't look inside at myself, for fear of the shadows within. I'll look only at the light .... "If we say we have no sin we deceive our selves ..."
The closer we get to the light, the harder it is to deceive ourselves. The brighter the light, the darker the shadows appear. And when we try to shut out the shadows, we risk shutting out the light as well. And, if we don't see the shadows, how will we recognize or desire the light?
"If we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us."
We have darkness. We all know it's there. We live in the shadows of our guilt and sin, the shadows of our fear and doubt.
"Fear and Doubt" -- sounds familiar, kinda like last week?
It's a familiar story, today's gospel. Remember last week's story was our Twin, Doubting Thomas. For now, I'm not concerned about whether Luke & John are reporting different events or the same one. Or whether one gospel writer is revising the other's story. What is important is that each gospel writer knew a truth about Jesus and is trying to pass it on to us in story.
And in both stories, when Jesus comes into that dark fear-filled room, three things happen: peace, forgiveness, and touch.
Jesus says "PEACE be with you," and fears, guilt, sin are overcome. Peace is offered right away, up front and it is unasked for.
Peace is the of fruit of FORGIVENESS, though forgiveness is only mentioned AFTER the greeting of peace. Without forgiveness how can there be peace? When peace is shared, the forgiveness is there already.
And then there is TOUCH. Touch can be a sacramental sign, that outward and visible sign of the unseen gift of forgiveness. Without forgiveness, real touch is difficult if not impossible.
We are talking here about RECONCILIATION: When reconciliation happens, sins are forgiven, peace is exchanged, and lives are touched in every sense of the word.
In the sacrament we call "reconciliation" (or "confession," or "penance"), this is the essence of what happens : with the touch, the laying on of hands, sins are forgiven, and peace is exchanged.
And it happens here every Sunday before the Eucharist: Reconciliation: that combination of forgiveness, peace, and touch. Each Sunday we make our confession and receive forgiveness. We exchange God's peace and we touch one another.
Touch is important. You remember, perhaps, the story of the child who was afraid of the dark? When an adult tried to reassure her with, "You're not alone, God is with you." Her response was, "But I need somebody with skin on!"
Somebody with skin on. Been there. Done that: It's in today's gospel reading.
The disciples see Jesus' hands and feet. Jesus is hungry and eats fish. Jesus is touchable, not a ghost, but a person of substance -- somebody with skin on.
"Touch me and see," Jesus says, "See that it is I myself."
Touch and see Jesus --
God with skin,
God with wounds.
Touch and see Jesus --
God who hungers and thirsts,
God who has walked in the in the valley of the shadow of death.
Touch and see Jesus –
God who feeds us today at God's table.
In THIS very God there is no darkness at all.
This God is the Resurrection Light that shows us the shadows and then floods our lives with light and life.
This is RECONCILIATION -- reconciliation with God, with one another, and with ourselves.
Put down your blinders: do not fear looking into the darkness, do not fear touching the wounds, do not fear facing your own hurts and sins, because God offers us reconciliation.
Put down your blinders, see the light, and say to one another, "Peace be with you."