Our deepest and truest self. May 5, 2019 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

John 21:1-19

Huston Smith, a scholar of religion, once wrote that in the history of the world there have been two persons whose lives were so extraordinary that people ultimately asked them not just, “Who are you?” but “What are you?” The first was Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, who said, “I am awake.” The second was Jesus of Nazareth, who’s response to that question shook those first disciples and continues to shake people to this very day. And what turned the world upside down was not Jesus claiming to be God. His answer to that question, “What are you?” is more shocking than that. And that answer is right before us in these lessons today.

Paul is on the road to Damascus when he is bowled over by the Risen Christ, who says to him, I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Don’t let that slip by you, because Paul is not actually persecuting Jesus, he is persecuting the followers of Jesus. But Jesus draws no distinction between himself and his followers. He and his followers are one. Move to the Gospel. The Risen Christ is not easily recognized. This happens so often in the resurrection stories that it cannot be an accident. And when Peter finally sees that it is Jesus, they have this powerful exchange. Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him, and when Peter insists he does, Jesus says, Then you must love my sheep. Jesus identifies with his sheep; his sheep are Jesus. The Risen One is his followers; his followers are the Risen One. Jesus not only incarnates the Christ of God; he incarnates the Christ in each of us. He is our deepest and truest self. Christ is us.

And if that doesn’t shake us up, perhaps it should. It literally blinds Paul, who cannot see for three days, But when he does see, dear God, he sees! It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me (Gal. 2:20) . . .  He tells the Colossians that he is called to proclaim the mystery that has been hidden throughout the ages and generations but has now been revealed to his saints . . . which is Christ in you (Eph. 1:26, 27). We are Christ-soaked people, he is in all of us and one with all of us. Paul says that we are the very Body of Christ. We should know this. After all, we are baptized into his death and resurrection, and we eat and drink him every week at the altar. He tells us that he will abide in us, and we will abide in him (John 15:4). He says directly, Just as you did it to one of the least of these . . .  you did it to me (Matt. 25:40). The message is strong and unmistakable.

And because this is so, there is no way to love Christ without loving other people; no way to love other people without loving Christ. And any attempt to do that, any attempt to separate Jesus from other people, will fail because it’s not true. As the First Letter of John so bluntly puts it: Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have see, cannot love love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also (1 John 4:20-21). Not they “should” love their brothers and sisters because God up in heaven is commanding them to, but they “must” love them because God is in those people and one with those people. It’s no wonder that people don’t recognize Jesus after his resurrection: he looks like anyone and everyone, because he is anyone and everyone. Christ is  the reality of God in all of us made flesh and fully realized. It was shocking then; it is shocking now.

During the Maundy Thursday service, we washed each others hands. And when we did so, we said, “The Christ in me serves the Christ in you.” That is not just poetic license: that is the way it is. Each one of us is a dwelling place of the Risen Christ. When we exchange the Peace with each other, we are exchanging the Peace with Jesus. When we love each other, we are loving Jesus.

This may be easier to accept when we think of the people closest to us, the people we have the most in common with, the people we love most easily. But it also applies to annoying people, the really difficult people in our lives, even our worst enemies. The same Christ who reached out to foreigners and outcasts, who told stories about Good Samaritans and justified tax collectors, and who forgave the soldiers who executed him embraces the whole world.

And if we see that, it really does change everything. It certainly means we can never demonize any human being for any reason. I know when people have angered or hurt me the most, what saves me is remembering that Christ is in them, identifying with their pain and their brokenness as surely as he is in me, identifying with my pain and my brokenness. I can’t love Jesus without loving them: I can’t. It’s not possible. I  may try, but it won’t work. And when I let the Christ in me love the Christ in them, there is always room for healing and reconciliation, there is always a reason not to despair, not to give in to hatred or hopelessness.

And please understand: this is not about having warm, fuzzy feelings or thinking that everyone always does wonderful things. This is about seeing Reality clearly, seeing what Paul sees after he is healed of his blindness, seeing what Peter sees in the home of Cornelius the Centurion, seeing that the Risen Christ is everywhere and in everyone. This is not something we can figure out intellectually: we need to experience it and live it. The Franciscan writer Richard Rohr has written, “The proof that you are a Christian is that you can see Christ everywhere else.” We don’t have to make Christ be everywhere else: he already is because he is Risen, and he fills the universe and every creature in it. We just need to open our eyes and see it — see him. He is in us and among us right now.