John
20:19-31
It is Easter evening and then it’s a week
later, the Sunday after Easter, when on both occasions in the gospel of John we
encounter the disciples holed up together in a house because of fear. Things
are uncertain. It’s not safe to go outside so they lock the doors and stay
home. Sound familiar?
Yet even as the disciples shelter in
place the resurrected Christ Jesus comes to them. Even though the doors are
locked, Jesus finds a way to enter in, stand among, and bring, “Peace.” It’s
the very first word that the Risen Lord speaks to his disciples - peace. A
peace which, as Jesus explained to them just days before on the night that he
was betrayed, is not the world’s peace. It’s not the kind that depends on
circumstances being just right. God’s peace is the kind that is present and
real and experienced no matter the threat, the fear, the struggle or the pain.
It’s the kind of peace that the disciples really needed in that moment. It’s
the kind of peace we really need in our moment too. The peace that only God can
give.
And God gives it freely. But there is a
part that we play. “Receive the Holy Spirit,” Jesus says. That word, “receive,”
is the same word that Jesus uses during the last supper when he gives the
bread. But in that case the same word is translated a bit differently with the
word “take.” As in, “Take, eat: This is my Body, which is given for you.” In
that context, we naturally understand that in order to receive the bread, the
body of Christ, there are some things we must do - like open our mouths, chew,
and swallow. In the same way, the gift of peace and life in the Spirit calls
upon us to participate in by actively taking, receiving. And perhaps a clue of
how we are to do that begins with how it is given, that is, through breath.
Jesus comes into the disciples’ home and comes into our homes, stands among us
and breathes onto us the Holy Spirit. We, in response, are not to stay closed,
holding our breath, but open, breathing in the Spirit - over and over and over
again.
The other day I heard someone comment, “I
know it’s Easter, but it still feels like Lent.” And I get that. When we were
sequestered in our homes during Lent that made more sense. But now that Easter
has come it feels incongruous that we are still holed up inside. Yet perhaps we
can take some consolation in knowing that we find ourselves in the very same
place as those first disciples. They didn’t rush out of their homes on Easter
day or even the following week. Figuring out how to receive and live into the
good news of God’s resurrection life took time - a lifetime, really. So Jesus
kept coming among them, meeting them where they were - just as he does with us
- offering his peace, breathing his life, and calling us to take, to receive.
For it is that life and peace of the Risen Lord that empowers us to meet and
live through the circumstances of our days - one day at a time, one breath at a
time. Because whether it feels like it or not, it is Easter. Christ is risen.
The Spirit is moving. Which means that no matter what we face we will always
make our song, “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!”
