ALIVE! RISEN! HERE!
Acts 3: 13-15, 17-19; 1 John 2: 1-5a; Luke 24: 35-48
“Why are you troubled and why do questions arise in your hearts?” Lord, how could their hearts NOT be troubled and how could their minds NOT be cluttered with questions? So much has happened in just one week’s time and they have experienced a full spectrum of emotions. Just one week before, you triumphantly came to Jerusalem, hailed with hosannas, proclaimed as the messiah, the Son of David, the King of the Jews. Everything they had pinned their hopes on for three years seemed to finally be within their grasp. On Thursday, you shared the yearly Passover meal with them, yet somehow very different this year: the unleavened bread you told them was your body and the cup of wine your blood. You gave them a model of service by washing their feet and you proclaimed your deep and abiding love for them and called them, no longer servants, but friends. Then pandemonium and chaos! In the garden after the meal, one of them, handpicked by you, betrays you by handing you over to the Jewish authorities. They fight, they struggle, they scatter, they abandon. They hide behind locked doors, as they still do, hearing others describe the unthinkable - Arrest. Trial. Torture. Condemnation. Crucifixion. Death. Entombment. Their hearts shatter into a million pieces, as do their hopes and their dreams. And then, with the Sunday sunrise, come reports that the grave is empty, your body is gone, no longer held captive by the tomb. Some claim it has been stolen. Others claim you are resurrected, come back to life. Some claim they have even seen you . . . at the tomb . . . on the road to Emmaus. And now, despite locked doors, like the tomb, doors and stone walls cannot hold you! You invade their cells of despair and grief and confusion and stand in their midst. Are you a ghost? Are you an hallucination? Are you a memory? Are you just a dream for things to be as they once were just a few short days ago? “Why are you troubled and why do questions arise in your hearts?” Lord, how could their minds and their hearts be anything but?
Have you come to haunt them? Have you come to condemn them? Have you come to seek revenge on those who should have stood courageous, but ran away; should have remained faithful, but abandoned you; should have loved you as you loved them but who loved themselves more? NO! Instead, you stand before them and wish them PEACE. “Peace be with you,” you say. Shalom Aleichem. Your last words to them on Thursday night at the Last Supper become your first words to them tonight: “Peace be with you!” Shalom Aleichem. You show them your nail-pierced hands and your spear-punctured side. It is YOU! No ghost! No hallucination! No memory! No dream! But YOU alive again, yet somehow radically different. “Peace be with you.” And with that peace comes joy to their broken hearts. With that peace comes reassurance to their shattered faith. You are there, alive, present . . . because you have a love that stays . . . beyond death, despite infidelity,
But Lord, perhaps your question is more directed to me than to your Apostles. “Why are you troubled and why do questions arise in your heart?” Lord, how can my heart be anything but consumed with worries and my mind not cluttered with questions? Did you not hear the diagnosis? Do you not know of my self-doubts? Have you not seen my alienated relationships? Did you not see what I did that I don’t know if you, or anyone else can forgive, or if even I can forgive myself? Do you not know how I worry if I will be able to pay the bills and provide for my family? Did you not know that my feeling of self-worth has been destroyed by my unemployment? Have you not sensed that I am tired . . . so very tired? Tired that today is the same as yesterday, that yesterday was the same as the day before, and that there is no hope for my tomorrows? Tired that my life is aimless and seems to have no meaning? Tired that, no matter how much I try, no one seems to need me, appreciate me, love me? “Why are you troubled and why do questions arise in your heart?” Lord, how can my mind and my heart be anything but? And so, like the Apostles, I hide in a locked room, a room of fear, of hurt, of anger, of alienation, of doubt, of guilt, of grudges; locked behind doors that I hope will keep me from danger, from pain, from hurt, or maybe just from being too challenged.
But . . . can it be that, like the walls in the upper room, the walls that I have constructed are penetrable too? Can it be that, as death and a tomb could not hold you back, the locked doors to my rooms cannot hold you back either?
My Lord and my God! You stand before me in this season of renewal and rebirth, and you speak the word “peace” to ME! Shalom Aleichem! Peace to my mind! Peace to my heart! Peace to my soul! PEACE! Not the overused, contrived, insincere word that is part of our daily vocabulary, but Shalom Aleichem. Shalom is God’s peace. Shalom is order restored where there was once chaos. Shalom is harmony and well-being. Shalom is rest for a troubled spirit. Shalom is reunion where once there was alienation. Shalom is God’s salvation, God’s healing and liberating work of grace in the whole world. THAT’S the peace that you wish me . . . No, that’s the peace you offer me.
And like you did in that upper room with your Apostles, you stretch forth your scarred hands and bid me to examine them. And you take my hand and guide it as I probe the wound in your side and trace with my finger the depth of your love for me. You are ALIVE! You are RISEN! You are HERE! You are not forever nailed to a cross. Your body has not decayed in the dark dampness of a borrowed tomb. You are ALIVE! You are RISEN! You are HERE – for all eternity - to wipe away every tear, to give joy to every broken heart, to give consolation to every crushed spirit, to give reconciliation to every bruised soul, to give hope to everyone who lives in the shadow of darkness!
And so fellow freed captives of locked and seemingly impenetrable rooms, let us sing our Alleluias! Let us proclaim him to the ends of the earth! He commissioned his Apostles to preach his name to all nations, beginning in Jerusalem. Let us do the same, but beginning here, in Roxbury - in our homes, in our places of employment, in our schools. We proclaim what we know to be true. We have seen him with our own eyes, we have felt his love, we have experienced his mercy. We have felt his healing hands on our broken bodies, on our bruised hearts, on our crestfallen spirits. We have heard his gentle voice echoed in scripture and in prayer. He has fed and nourished us with the bread of life and the cup of eternal salvation, his own body and blood. He has opened our blind eyes to see what continues to be done to this day in his name. He has opened our ears to eternal truths. He has promised us that what happened to him will happen to us - We will arise from graves of death and despair and hopelessness, and lovelessness, and rise to new life, eternal life. We are His witnesses. We are an Easter People and Alleluia is our song. So, let us sing that joyful anthem, for the tomb has failed to hold him back, nor have the locked doors that we and the world place in his way. He is ALIVE! HE is RISEN! He is HERE!
For ME. For YOU.
