Sermon for Easter 2 A, April 19, 2020 John 20:19-31 House of Prayer Lutheran Church

We’re more than a month into social distancing because of this pandemic. The good news is that our collective sacrifices are working. People know that we are all in this together. The rate at which COVID-19 is spreading is beginning to slow down--we are starting to flatten the curve. In many places we are preserving the capacity of the healthcare system to treat those who have the coronavirus and other diseases, especially among the most vulnerable. We have spared countless thousands from infection, suffering, or even death. Doctors learn more about this virus and how to treat it every day, and each day scientists and researchers get closer to a vaccine. Many more of us would be suffering right now if we did not begin social distancing when we did, and keep it up for as long as we have.

The bad news is that we are all still suffering one way or another. We’ve seen what happens in places like New York where the healthcare system gets stretched to the breaking point. We’ve heard from healthcare workers in our own community who have seen up close how bad this virus can be. We’ve read the obituaries of people from all walks of life, common and famous, who have died from coronavirus. Maybe we even knew some of them. We know people who’ve been infected, and see how widely the symptoms can vary. Some people are asymptomatic while others wouldn’t wish what they’ve been through on their worst enemy. There is still a lot we don’t know about this virus.

Adding to all that, we’ve all been isolated to one degree or another. Many feel anxious doing something like grocery shopping, which we never would have thought twice about in the past. Many feel worn-down, tired, lonely, stir-crazy. Many worry where the next paycheck will come from, or even the next meal. Our individual experiences can vary quite a bit, but this pandemic is still a collective trauma that takes a toll on everyone--mentally, physically, and spiritually. There is no getting around it.

As we turn to today’s gospel reading from St. John--the story of Doubting Thomas, one week after God raised Jesus from the dead--I am struck once again by the similarities between what the disciples went through, and what we’re going through. Just as so many of us are now behind our doors hiding from a destructive virus, the disciples were hiding behind locked doors stuck in their fear or lack of control. Like us, their lives had been disrupted--and even though God planted the seeds of hope by raising the crucified Jesus from the tomb, they still lived with uncertainty. Like us, it was a risk for them to go out in public. Like us, they were unable to live as they normally would because their priority was to protect themselves for now until they made it to the point where they could begin building life with a “new normal”.

Like us, Jesus knows the challenges the disciples were facing, and that’s why he appears among them. He doesn’t let closed doors get in the way of him being with his people. Jesus knows what we’re facing and what we’re feeling, which is why he appears among his disciples and says, “Peace be with you.” He knows that his presence and promises will bring comfort and hope. This is the same reason why Jesus wants us to put our faith in him today, because we can trust him to be truly present with us in the midst of the anxieties and uncertainties of life.

Jesus knows that we need the comfort and hope of having his presence in our lives. He knows that the “peace of God” that he shares among us is both a peace that is beyond our understanding, and a peace that we can share with others. Even while we are physically apart from one another, we can still send a prayer, a phone call, a zoom conversation, a text message, a video, even an old-fashioned letter. We can still turn to God’s Word in the Bible, and God’s promises that are written on our hearts and souls, and in all these ways we can receive the “peace of God” for ourselves and share the “peace of God” with others.

There is something interesting that happens to the disciples when the risen Christ appears among them in their locked room. He doesn’t say, “I’m going to bust you out of here and put you someplace else.” Instead he leaves them right where they are but promises that he will always be present with them through the Holy Spirit. Like the disciples, the peace that Christ gives us does not remove us from the place of difficulty. Instead, his is a peace within the difficulty that God gives us when we put our trust in Christ and hand our burdens over to him.

Another interesting thing that happens to the disciples is the way Jesus proves that it is really him--not by his glory, but by his wounds and scars! His suffering connects with their suffering. He’s not someone who ran away from the problems--instead he willingly took the sin of the world upon his body. That’s how they know it’s really him. And that’s how we know it’s really Christ among us--because our suffering connects us to his suffering, which connects us to the suffering of the world. And the risen Christ holds it all in the embrace of his wounded hands and side, in order to lift us all to the heart of God.

So we shouldn’t be too hard on poor old Doubting Thomas. His story is our story. He just wanted what the other disciples experienced when Jesus appeared to give them his peace and show them his scars. Thomas wasn’t there with them at the time--maybe he was the one who had to do the grocery shopping? I mean, they still had to eat. Maybe Thomas worked in an “essential trade” and needed to risk going out in public on behalf of the others? Thomas is actually considered the patron saint of builders and construction workers, so maybe he had a contract to fulfill?

Whatever the reason, he just wants what the other disciples had already got: not to be removed from the difficulty, but to receive the Peace of Christ within the difficulty. To see the scars and the wounds so he knows it’s really Jesus who is with him. And when Jesus finally answers Thomas’ prayer, and appears before him, and invites him to see and touch his wounded hands and side--then Thomas knows right away, and offers one of the greatest confessions of faith in the Bible saying simply “My Lord and my God!”

It’s through the wounds and scars of life that the grace and love of God get in. And though it will affect each person differently, we’ll all be carrying scars from living through this pandemic. And we will still need the peace and presence of Christ to keep on giving us comfort and hope because sadly there will be more scars yet to come, until a vaccine becomes widespread.

But like Thomas (who wanted to touch and see the scars for himself), when we acknowledge the scars we are dealing with, the losses we’ve been dealt, the disappointments we’ve endured, the grief and difficulties of trying to navigate as best we can through this very strange time--that is how we touch and see the wounds of Jesus, and have the promise of peace right in the midst of our troubles.

We live in hope through Christ who has formed us, his people, to be his body out in the world. Our scars are his scars. Our wounds are his wounds. His peace is our peace. His grace is our grace. Even when--especially when--we hide behind the doors and sit with our doubt, uncertainty, fear, anxiety, unknowing, or even sickness or death--Christ is with us, and through believing in him, we have life in his name. Amen.