The Risk of Not Coming

Sermon on Acts 4:32-35 and John 20:19-31

St. James Evangelical Lutheran Church, Youngstown, PA

Sunday, April 19, 2009,

Second Sunday of Easter, Year B

(word count: 974)

The Risk of Not Coming

“I don't need to go to church. I'm spiritual but not religious. I can have an encounter with God out in the woods. What do I need to go to church for?”

We have all heard people make statements like these. It is true that we can encounter God anywhere, but in the Church we are guaranteed to encounter God. Jesus teaches us in Matthew, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” When we eat and drink Holy Communion, we encounter Christ. Jesus says of Holy Communion, “This is my body; this is my blood.” The Book of Concord teaches us that, when we eat and drink Holy Communion, we are eating and drinking the real body and blood of God himself. You can't get that by walking in the woods.

You might encounter God out in nature. Mary Magdalene does on Easter Day. Of course, what does Jesus tell her when she meets him? He says, “Go and tell the others.” In fact, over and over, when people encounter the risen Jesus, he urges them to go and tell. Don't keep it to yourself. Go, tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is alive. I wonder how many people who encounter God in the woods go and tell people about the encounter.

You might encounter God in nature, but you will definitely encounter God when you are with the believers, the Church. That's what happens to Thomas. The risen Jesus appears to the group of disciples. Thomas misses out because he is not there, not with the group. Where was he? Maybe he was in the woods. Maybe he was at work. Maybe he was sleeping in. We don't know. What we do know is that, wherever he was, he did not encounter Jesus there. Otherwise, Thomas would not have said, “I will not believe until I can see and touch him.” Wherever Thomas was, he did not encounter God there.

But he does encounter God when he is with the group, with the believers. Do you understand? It is only when he is with the other believers, with the Church, that Thomas meets the risen Christ. When you're alone, you might meet up with God, just as Mary Magdalene does, or you might end up like Thomas, who did not encounter God when alone. But when we are with the other believers, we will definitely meet up with God, just as Thomas eventually does.

“I don't need to go to Church. I can meet God in the woods.” Maybe. Come to Church, and God will be here. Guaranteed. Despite all our flaws, when we, the baptized, gather, God is here. Guaranteed.

So what? When I come to church I encounter God; so what? What benefits come from encountering God at church?

I wonder how Thomas would answer that question. What if Thomas had stayed away? What if Thomas had never encountered the risen Christ? Thomas would have continued to doubt, but when he does encounter Christ, he goes from being doubting Thomas to being devouting Thomas. When he sees the risen Jesus, Thomas declares, “My Lord and my God!”

Sunday worship may not dispel all our doubts, but attending worship Sunday after Sunday does strengthen us, thanks be to God. When we gather for worship and come face-to-face with our Lord and our God, Jesus Christ, we learn anew that evil will not win. It is easy for us to doubt, easy to get discouraged, tempting to think that evil will win, that Satan is the victor. “Yup, that's right. The world's going from bad to worse. People are shooting each other, politicians are corrupt and getting worse, the world is sick with violence, the economy is derailed and plummeting off a cliff.” Satan puts his arm around you and says, “That's right. Be pessimistic, be cynical, give up. Evil has won. It's all hopeless. Why even bother going to Church? Doesn't do any good. Just stay home. What's the point?”

It is tempting to think in this rotten, smelly way, but then the Spirit compels us to drag ourselves to worship. The risen Christ shows up. He shows you his scars. He says to you, “Do you see? Yes, sinful people crucified me. Yes, I died, but now I am alive. Good has won. God has vanquished Satan. Don't listen to the doom-sayers. Don't listen to the pessimists and cynics. Sure, the world has problems, but I am still risen. I am still your Lord and your God. I am here to feed you, fill you, teach you, strengthen you, challenge you. I breathe the Holy Spirit into you.” Do you see? The risen Christ means hope, new life.

April 20, tomorrow, reminds me of this truth in a special way. April 20 is Hitler's birthday. April 20 is also the birthday of my best male friend, Glenn, who is Jewish. Hitler's plan was to eliminate all Jews, but he failed, thanks be to God. Despite Hitler's efforts, Glenn and millions of other Jews are alive. Hitler lost; evil lost. Evil is strong; God is stronger. Christ was crucified, but Christ is alive. Do not doubt, but believe. Do you see? [have Christ statue]

We come to worship with our doubts, broken-hearts, weariness, sharp pains and dull aches, fears. We bring all of this to worship, and being in worship does not erase all of that. But in worship, Christ comes to us through Scripture, Holy Communion, one another. Christ comes to us, the baptized, and says, “See the scars. See the marks from the nails in my hands. Put your hand in my side. Evil did its worst to me, but look: I am alive! I am alive. I have won, and so you will, too. You are the baptized. Do not doubt, but believe!”

Rock Part Three: Easter

ROCK PART THREE

(word count: 743)

I cannot believe it. I don't know whether to be hopeful or terrified or both. Right now I'm just shocked. Jesus used to call me Peter, which means Rock, but I feel more like jell-o.

He died. The women saw the whole thing, the crucifixion. The centurions took the body down from the cross, all bloody and battered. John saw. Others saw. He was dead. Not sleeping. Dead.

I went to the viewing at the funeral home. I saw his body in the casket. I dropped to my knees and sobbed right. My wife put her arm around me. I looked up and saw Jesus lying there, in the casket. It was him. His rugged face, swarthy skin, square jawline. I've looked into that face a million times. There was no mistake. It was Jesus. He looked like he was sleeping, but he was dead.

We thought Jesus might have a closed casket because he had been beaten so badly, but he didn't look too bad. The funeral director, John Lopatich, had done an excellent job with the makeup and clothes to hide the wounds. I stood up, reached out, touched his face.

I spoke with John Lopatich. “Is he really dead?” I asked him. John nodded. “Yes, Peter. He's really dead.” “Are you sure?” I asked. John said, “Yes, I drained all the blood out of him myself. I worked on his body. He didn't move, didn't breathe. I've been doing this job a long time. I know a dead body when I see one, and Peter, I am afraid to say that Jesus is really dead.”

I nodded and walked away, still nodding. My wife guided me to a chair.

Then they had the funeral. I don't remember what the pastor said in the homily; I'm sure it was fine. We all drove to the cemetery. Jesus' casket was placed in the upper cemetery here at St. James. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. There stood the casket containing Jesus' poor, dead body. After the service, I leaned in and gave the casket a kiss. I walked away, crying, my wife holding me close. Then we went to the church basement and ate fried chicken, halushki, and gob cake.

Last night I came back to the grave site by myself. The casket had been lowered. Back fill had been shoveled in. Now there was a mound of dirt, and, at the end of the mound, a temporary grave marker that read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, REST IN PEACE.

That all happened yesterday, Saturday. At the end of the day, I went to bed, cried, did not sleep well. This morning, when the sun came up, I was wide awake, thinking about all that I had experienced with Jesus. I recalled how I had denied him three times. As I lay there, I prayed, “God, if I could do it all over, I would not deny him. I wish I had another chance. Please give me another chance.”

The phone rang. Who was calling at 7 on a Sunday morning? My wife didn't wake up; she was just snoring away. The phone kept ringing. I looked at the caller ID. It was Mary Magdalene's cell.

“Peter, something happened,” she said. “We went to the grave this morning to place some flowers there, and it was all dug up. We looked down into the hole. The casket was there, but it was open, and sitting in the casket was a young man, probably about eighteen, wearing a white robe. He told us that Jesus has been raised from the dead and that we were to go and tell you and the other disciples that he will meet you in Galilee.”

I said, “Mary, what are you talking about?” She told me everything again, and I thought this could not be right. I said I'd have to call her back and hung up. I needed a moment to think.

My wife rolled over. “What's going on, honey?” she asked. I told her, and she said, “Well, that makes sense. Didn't he used to tell you that he would die and come back to life?”

My wife was right, of course. I got dressed and drove to the cemetery. I looked into the hole in the ground. The open casket was there, but there was no young man.

I'm so confused. This is all frightening, strange. Could he truly be alive? Look! There he is! Do you see him?

Rock (Part Two)

ROCK PART TWO

word count: 397

Where are we headed? God, hold me up. I am falling.

Just a few hours ago, we were celebrating Passover. During the seder, he held up a pita and tore it in half. He said, “Take, eat; this is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” I didn't understand. I just stared at him. We passed the bread around and ate. The room was quiet from bewilderment tinted with holiness. I chewed the bread. The wheat flavor was rich, the texture gritty. I thought, “This is his body. This is his body.” What does that mean?

Later, he held up the chalice. He said, “Take this; drink. This is my blood given for you and for all for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in remembrance of me.” He passed the chalice. We each drank. The tart wine warmed my chest. His blood. Drinking blood. How strange. What does that mean? I could spend a lifetime thinking about that. I will.

“Do this in remembrance of me,” he said. I will do it in remembrance of him. At least I can get that right, I hope.

Maybe I can somehow make up for the horrible sin I committed against him. Can I? Will I? Can I ever do enough to make up for what I did against him this morning?

This morning, this morning, I denied him. To protect myself, I said three times that I did not know him. The first time was in response to a servant girl. What a weakling I am, letting a servant girl intimidate me. Some rock. A little while later, I denied him again. An hour after that, I denied him a third time. I got defensive. I swore an oath. I hissed, “I do not know him!”

Then I heard the rooster. I remembered what he had said: “Before the rooster crows twice you will deny me three times.” In response, I had said, “Never. Even if I have to die for you, I will never deny you.” Blah, blah, blah. Empty talk. Typical me. A whole lot of talk, but, when the pressure's on, I crumble. I'm not a rock. I denied him. To save myself, I said I did not know him. I chickened out. I failed. I'm a coward. O!

God, forgive me. [Lean over font.] Hold me up. Hold me up.