April 23, 2006
(Second Sunday of Easter)

Seeing What We Believe

by The Rev. Carol Sanford, Curate

Acts 3:12a,13-15,17-26 or Isaiah 26:2-9,19  •  Psalm 111 or 118:19-24  •  1 John 5:1-6 or Acts 3:12a,13-15,17-26  •  John 20:19-31
(From The Lectionary Page)

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

I love this tradition of proclaiming the risen Christ with Alleluias. This bursting forth of joy always seems to carry with it all the blossoming trees and crashing thunderstorms and nesting birds of springtime in this part of the world. If you watch animals or young children, and, frankly, many adults (myself included), you will see that bursts of energy are part of the springtime experience. Car windows are rolled down on beautiful afternoons , parks are filled with Frisbee throwers and dog walkers, and the rabbits and squirrels in our neighborhood, at least, make driving challenging as they race around in their little animal frenzies of mating and nesting.

Our shouting of Alleluia matches that outpouring of energy for new life. Besides, it’s fun! Let’s do it again: Alleluia, Christ is risen! [The Lord is risen, indeed. Alleluia!] So, we are proclaiming our joy in Christ’s resurrection, and mirroring new life energy in the world as we proclaim new life in Christ.

And something else is happening when we proclaim our Alleluias. We are making a profound theological statement. The spell-check function on my computer doesn’t want us to say Christ is risen, and little green lines show up in the text every time I use the phrase. But although our proclamation may be grammatically puzzling, it is theologically precise. We say Christ is risen. We are speaking in the present tense. Christ has died; past tense. Christ will come again; future tense. Christ is risen; present tense!

We are proclaiming something that is occurring right now.
Christ is risen. Resurrection is a current event.

The Greek word in Scripture which we translate as ‘resurrection,’ comes from two words that mean ‘in the midst’ and ‘stand.’ To be resurrected means, in part, to be standing in the midst.

Our gospel says, When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’

Before we go any further, it’s important to remind ourselves that the disciples were Jews, so the reference to fear of the Jews is about a healthy fear of the authorities who were in on Jesus’ crucifixion; it is not a reference to persons of the Jewish faith.

So, the doors are locked and then what happens? Jesus comes and stands among them. This is sometimes represented as a sort of ghostly Jesus passing through walls like a character in a cheap horror movie. I find it more helpful to consider Jesus’ bypassing of locked doors as an illustration that the normal functions of human existence do not apply to resurrected life. Walls and locked doors could not separate Jesus from his beloved disciples. He was resurrected; he was standing in their midst.

We are the Episcopal cathedral at the heart of the city. How do we stand in the midst of Kansas City as members of the body of the risen Christ? In order to do so, we have some personal and cultural walls to walk through; walls of prejudice, ignorance and fear based on class, race or ethnicity, gender or political affiliation, disease, religious interpretation or even judgment of one another’s sin. We have walls that tell us that we are better than or less than or irreconcilably other than those around us. It does no good to pretend that such barriers do not exist; it is not following Jesus to hide our humanity. Jesus did not appear without wounds. In fact, those very wounds revealed Christ to Thomas.

In revealing his wounds, Jesus was offering visible proof of himself as the same one who was crucified, and within this he was also offering proof of his humanity and of his suffering. The perceived barrier between the human and the divine was shattered for Thomas in the perception of the wounds, just as the walls between us and others fall when our mutual vulnerability and need are revealed.

Was there an actual apostle named Thomas who stared into actual wounds that day in a room with locked doors? We have no way of answering that question by some sort of scientific proof, so let’s phrase it differently. Was there some shift in human life so profound that now, 2000 years later, we know that Christ is risen and standing in our midst?

I’m from Missouri and, like Doubting Thomas, I have to be shown. I have not seen a First Century crucified man stand before me in the flesh, but I have seen the risen Son of God.

I have seen love win out over fear as many of you take up new ministries, and I have seen generosity overrule discomfort as you pass on your wisdom and experience to others. I have seen compassion win out over prejudice as all sorts and conditions of persons are welcomed into this holy place. I have watched you walk through illness and suffering with dignity and faith.

Christ is visibly and woundedly present here in our midst seeking companionship and understanding, and Christ is just outside our doors, asking for food and assistance with bills. Christ is present when those needs are met with care and compassion, and also when we consider how to address the needs yet unfulfilled.

Christ walked among us yesterday at the AIDS Walk as parishioners, Trinity Teens, staff, clergy and children joined with the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception to overcome prejudice and raise money for care of the ill, and Christ was with the vestry and staff later in the afternoon as they worked through governance issues to facilitate our various ministries.

Christ is palpably present among us in the bread and the wine of the Holy Eucharist, and in the Holy Spirit present at baptism, and Christ is risen within and among us as we pray together and greet one another in his name.

I am from the Show-Me State and you are showing me the body of the risen Christ over and over again. I’ve heard it said that you can pretend to care, but you cannot pretend to show up. Many of us have been wounded and yet here we are with our alleluias and our presence and our prayers; faithful even in our doubts and questions. Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe.

As Christians, we are the named body of Christ in the world; if we are scarred and wounded or even still bleeding, but showing up to take our place in this community and at this altar, we are proof of the resurrected Christ. We are forgiven, healed, loved, blessed, reconciled, renewed and transformed. We are demonstrating life.

The scary part is to reveal our wounds and to look with faith upon the wounds of others.

Thomas sets a good precedent; it’s ok to ask, to question, to search for proof of some kind when surprising claims are made. Then Jesus takes it one step more and points to the blessing when we go ahead and believe, even when we do not yet see.

The springtime energy of new life is in this place, and it is sometimes messy and confusing, but if we keep coming to this table and greeting one another in the name of Christ, and if we remain focused on standing in the midst of this city as Christ’s greeting of Peace, I guarantee that we will come to see that which we have chosen to believe.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!