Acts 5:12a, 17-22,25-29
Revelation 1:(1-8)9-19
John 20:19-31
"Let me see those hands young man!" My mother would tell us kids before we could sit down at the dinner table. She would inspect each grubby little hand and say I know what you've been doing. "You' re not eating with hands like those," she'd say, "Think of all the germs on them. You march right back over to that sink and scrub them with soap this time. And don't you even think of coming back until they're clean."
I never understood how mom could decipher where our hands had been and what we were into, but she could. She could tell our daily history from our hands. I've found that you can tell a lot about a person from his hands. Rough strong hands might mean that a person does some form of physical labor or spends a lot of time in the outdoors, a sportsman maybe. Soft hands maybe an office worker or an artist. Our hands carry the marks, the battle scars, of who we are and where we have been and what we have.
My grandfather was a big powerful man who spent his life working the farm. He had massive, gnarled hands that could split wood and mend fences and crack walnuts, bare handed. Yet, put an infant in those hands and they became like butterflies, gentle caressing the baby's face. a soft, loving touch. You could tell this man had a kind, gentle soul. Sometimes, hands can be a mystery.
I read a story by Leslie Flynn who told of a small boy being raised in a frontier city by his grandmother.
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One
night the house catches on fire. The grandmother, trying to rescue the boy who was asleep in the bedroom
upstairs, is overcome by the smoke and dies in the fire. This frontier city doesn't have much of a fire
department. A crowd gathers around the house and they hear a small boy crying out for help. The lower floor
is a wall of flames and no one seems to know what to do. Suddenly, a man pushes through the crowd and
begins climbing an iron drainage pipe which runs to the roof. The pipe is hot from the fire, but he makes it to a
second floor window. The man crawls through the window and locates the boy. With the crowd cheering
encouragement, the man climbs back down the hot iron pipe with the boy on his back and his arms around his
neck. A few weeks later, a public meeting was held to determine in whose custody the boy would be placed. Each person wanting the child would be allowed to make a brief statement. The first man said, "I have a farm and would give the boy a good home. He would grow up on the farm and learn a trade." The second person to speak was the local school teacher. She said, "I am a school teacher and I would see to it that he received a good education." Finally, the banker said, "Mrs. Morton and I would be able to give the boy a fine home and a fine education. We would like him to come and live with us." The presiding officer looked around and asked, "Is there anyone else who would like to say anything?" From the back row, a man rose and said, "These other people may be able to offer some things I can't. All I can offer is my love." Then, he slowly removed his hands from his coat pockets. A gasp went up from the crowd because his hands were scarred terribly from climbing up and down the hot pipe. The boy recognized the man as the one who had saved his life and ran into his waiting arms. The farmer, teacher and the banker simply sat down. Everyone knew what the decision would be. The scarred hands proved that this man had given more than all the others.
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The 12 sat huddled together behind locked doors wringing their hands in fear. They were frightened of what could happen and they wanted to stay clear of the Judeans. Why did Jesus have to die? What is to become of us? Then he was in the midst of them. Just like that. Peace to you he says and shows them the scars on his hands and in his side. His scars, like our own, clearly define who he is. The history of his death and new life. Did they still hurt?
And they believed. All except Thomas, who was absent and when he heard of it would not believe until he could put his own finger into the scars and feel. Jesus showed them those hands. The same hands that had healed time and again and made miraculous things happen and lifted heavenward praising God. And believe he did. "My lord and my God!" said Thomas afterwards.
We all have a little of Thomas in us don't we? We all need to touch the scars a little bit time and again, just to make sure. I really do believe but let me just touch, just a little bit. Easter says go for it! I am alive. Come, touch me and see. I am breathing new life into each one of you and into the whole of creation. We need only to look around and see the scars of what we have done to God's creation. To touch and feel the scars of disappearing rainforests, deforestation, urban sprawl, pollution, a hole in the ozone. Entire species of animals becoming extinct. Gone forever. I invite you to look at the deep wounds we have carved into mother earth. I urge you to support those measures that will prevent further damage and protect our fragile environment. Created from the hands of God.
I implore you to take the time this Easter season to see the scars that people carry. To recognize the hurt and pain we all share and reach out your hands in love. And we, every one of us, as commissioned members of the priesthood of all believers can proclaim God's Easter message of healing and resurrection for our bodies and for all creation.