Day of the Church Year: 2nd Sunday of Easter
Scripture Passage: John 20:19-31
In John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene travels to Jesus’ tomb on Easter morning and discovers the stone rolled away from the entrance. She runs to tell Peter and another disciple who go to the tomb to investigate and find only the linen wrappings. The gospel writer John tells us they “believe” but that they then simply go home. Quite anticlimactically, after discovering Jesus’ empty tomb, John 20:10 reads: “Then the disciples returned to their homes.” That’s it. There’s a longer, better story involving Mary Magdalene, but the next time the disciples enter the picture is in today’s reading, John 20:19-31. It’s Easter evening, and they’re not rejoicing. They’re not sharing the good news of Jesus’ resurrection with anyone. They’re not making plans for a post-resurrection life with Jesus. No. They are literally locked in their meeting house for fear of the Judeans. Now, there are good reasons for this. Jesus is a convicted criminal, and they are known followers of his. Jesus’ body is missing, and they would be suspect of stealing the body to make false claims of resurrection. Though Peter and another disciple quote-unquote believe Jesus is raised from the dead, note that they only rejoice once they see him in the flesh, specifically his hands and side, casting doubt on their faith. Whatever their reasons, the doors of the disciples’ meeting house are locked. Thanks be to God locks on doors are no match for Jesus. Suddenly, Jesus appears among them, says “Peace be with you,” shows them his hands and side, sends them out, and breathes the Holy Spirit upon them. Usually, on this Sunday, the so-called Doubting Thomas steals the show. He’s not there when Jesus shows up on Easter evening and doesn’t believe his friends when they tell him Jesus has been raised from the dead. But notice that a week later, when Thomas is with the rest of the disciples, even though Jesus had shared with them his peace, sent them out, and given them the Holy Spirit the week before, they are still shut up in their meeting house. Still. The gospel of John will continue for another chapter, but in none of what remains do the disciples share the good news of Jesus’ resurrection with anyone outside their own small group. Even though Jesus shares his peace with them, even though Jesus sends them out, even though they have received the Holy Spirit.
At risk of being too sarcastic for preaching, I wonder: has the 21st century American church learned from and emulated the disciples all too well on this point? Have we, the church at large, shut and even locked our doors and failed to share the good news of Christ?
Our third guiding principle here at Grace, Share the good news of Christ, probably makes most of us slightly uncomfortable for in a highly secular age, what does this really mean? Is Jesus calling us to stand on street corners and shout: Christ is risen? If we did that, I wonder if anyone would shout back: Christ is risen indeed! Is Jesus calling us to knock on the doors of our neighbors and hand them Grace brochures and invite them to church? Is Jesus calling us to buy billboard space and fill it with messages like: God is good-all the time. All the time-God is good? These questions make us laugh, make us wonder, make us uncomfortable. We, the church, have handled evangelism strategies with tongs, carefully crafting programs where we share the good news of Christ in ways alien to us, acts of evangelism we wouldn’t normally do. I think we are as confounded as the disciples by the resurrection of Jesus. I think we’re not sure what we’re proclaiming. I think we’re unclear as to what, exactly, we’re doing at church at all. Just like the disciples, we have received the peace of Christ which passes understanding. We have received the Holy Spirit in baptism. We are sent out each Sunday: “Go in peace. Share the good news” to which we respond: Thanks be to God! But how do we actually do this, and what are we actually saying?
In a book entitled Breathing Spaces, Lutheran pastor Heidi Neumark writes about ministry at Transfiguration Lutheran Church in the south Bronx, her first call out of seminary in the 1980s. When she first came to serve there, each Sunday, the ushers would unlock the church doors and let in those who had traveled to the south Bronx to attend worship. Once all the members were accounted for, they would re-lock the doors and begin worship. They would literally lock the doors for the people of Transfiguration were scared of the people who lived in the neighborhood. As happens in many communities, as the neighborhood around Transfiguration changed, members of the church moved out but were still coming to worship on Sunday mornings. No one from the neighborhood joined this worshiping community...for obvious reasons. They couldn’t get in! When Pastor Heidi came, she unlocked the front doors of the church, propped them open, and gradually, children from the neighborhood began to congregate there. When some of them wanted to paint a mural on the church doors, she enthusiastically agreed. Opening the doors led to a transfigured ministry—and a transfigured neighborhood. The church eventually welcomed in people from the neighborhood, built a vibrant community, and, through partnerships, built affordable housing there in the south Bronx.
Sharing the good news of Christ need not be a street corner, brochure-giving, billboard-involved task. It can be but doesn’t necessarily need to be. Here at Grace, we have literally unlocked and opened our doors every summer for the past 17 summers for heat respite, and this has led to new avenues for building community. Among those who seek relief from the heat in Hope Hall. Among us who make up the core volunteers for respite. Among ministry partner groups who come to serve a meal. Among service providers who become friends of the congregation. Beyond the daily table prayer, there is nothing explicitly religious about heat respite, but providing hospitality for and building community among those seeking relief from the heat shares the good news of Christ without us saying a word.
As our neighborhood changes around us, I wonder how else we might open our doors. In an outreach coordinator interview a couple weeks ago, when asked how she had heard about the position, a candidate commented that she had passed the church many times and wondered if we were open. Which gave me and Solveig pause. Perhaps it was a fleeting comment, and of course, she could have googled us and answered her own question. But as the image of the disciples huddled together in their meeting house behind closed doors flashes by us this morning, I do wonder: are we open to our community, especially as it changes? If we are, to whom might we open our doors? Perhaps our neighbor arts institutions, schools, coffee shops, and apartment-dwellers? If we are, who might we call to ask: how can we help? How can we be good neighbors?
These are not rhetorical questions. Christ is risen and has sent us out. Out of our locked buildings, out with the peace of Christ to share, out and empowered by the Holy Spirit. As we, as you personally engage with anyone in our community, please ask: how can Grace help? How can we be good neighbors? This past Friday, when I met someone at a coffee shop on Roosevelt, the barista was telling us the city will not pick up recycling at their location. I imagine there is a reason, and I hope it’s a good one. But I gave her my card and said: I’m the pastor of the church up the alley. Maybe we could help?
Christ is risen, and the news is too good to shut and lock our doors. So say it with me: Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! Alleluia! Amen.