Easter 2 (3/30/08) “Peace Be with You”

Text: John 20.19-31

“When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’” It was a remarkable greeting on a remarkable evening. “Peace be with you.” Last week we heard Matthew’s story of how the women, rushing from the tomb on Easter morning, heard the risen Lord say, “Greetings!” or “Hello!” The Greek word there really is the typical word of salutation in the ancient Greek world. But in today’s passage, Jesus’ words are very Jewish: “Shalom alekem”—“Peace be with you.”

“Peace.” It is such a simple word, and such an important one. In our twentieth century world, it is perhaps most often thought of in political terms. We long for peace in Iraq, or Afghanistan, or Tibet—and what we mean by that is that we long for an end to hostility and violence. We seek some way to break down the walls between peoples. Of course that is a noble aspiration, if seemingly elusive.

But when Jesus speaks this word of “Peace,” he means something a bit different. In a sense, he, too, has in mind “breaking down walls”—indeed, he demonstrates it by appearing suddenly and miraculously in this room where the doors have been resolutely locked and barred. But the walls he here breaks down are not merely those between people, but between us and God.

There is first of all the wall of sin and guilt. The gospels do not dwell on this characteristic of the disciples, but can you imagine what they are feeling this Easter evening? All of them have failed. They have fallen asleep when Christ asked them to keep watch; they have deserted Christ, denied Christ. Now the women have told them that Christ is alive. Can you imagine anyone feeling more oppressed by their own failure, their own sin?

Yet Christ breaks through the wall of sin and says, “Peace be with you.” He speaks to them of forgiveness. He does not judge them, he does not condemn them. There is not even a word here of, “How could you have done that?” No, there is simply mercy, compassion, forgiveness—offered freely.

Perhaps you recall the story of that great man of God, Cardinal Joseph Bernardin. A young man named Steven Cook accused the Cardinal of having sexually abused him many years ago. In part because so many such stories have turned out to be true, many people were disposed to believe it, and a man whose integrity and faithfulness had been widely admired was called into question. But it turned out that the accusations were false. Steven Cook acknowledged that he had lied, that his claims had arisen out of his own anger and bitterness at the church and his own despair as a young man who was dying of AIDS. When this became known, the Cardinal privately invited Steven Cook to meet with him. The Cardinal, who was himself dying of cancer, prayed with his accuser and freely forgave him. Afterward, Steven Cook said, “A big burden has been lifted from me today. I feel healed and very much at peace.” Bernardin’s own account of the incident was published in a little book which carried the title The Gift of Peace.

And how about us? I know how I have failed Christ. You know how you have failed him. And yet we know that when we gather here, the words we hear are words of grace, words of peace. “I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins.” “This is my body, given for you.” Yes, Christ breaks through the wall of sin and guilt in our lives, and speaks those wonderful words, “Peace be with you.”

Then there is the wall of doubt. That is the wall that faces Thomas, surely one of our favorite disciples because he seems so brutally honest. He will not believe on the word of the others, but he must see for himself—see, perhaps, not just with his eyes or his hands, but see with his heart.

But Jesus appears to him, and bids him peace. He breaks down the walls of doubt—not with condemnation, or reproof, but with his patient presence. So has it been with countless disciples through the centuries. Consider St. Augustine—a man whose youth was spent running as far from Christ as he could manage, but who was gently and persuasively wooed and won, and who went on to become one of the greatest Christian bishops and thinkers in all history. Consider John Wesley—a pious man, who nonetheless could not feel certain of Christ’s love for him until one night he felt his “heart strangely warmed” and a whole new world of trust and love opened before him. Consider C. S. Lewis—a skeptic, an agnostic, who finally turned to Christ and was “surprised by joy.” For all of these, Christ broke down the wall of doubt and spoke those welcome words, “Peace be with you.”

And perhaps for you as well. Christ never demands unthinking, simplistic acceptance. He asks for trust—and trust is sometimes a long process. We wrestle with our doubts. Why is the world the way it is? Why would God allow the things that happen? What is the meaning of all this? And for many of us, the doubts never completely vanish. We are always asking questions. But when Christ says, “Peace be with you,” he is signaling to us that it is possible to trust without having all the questions answered. Indeed, doubt is in many respects the most powerful teacher, for it leads us to trust not in our own understanding or effort, but in God himself. We sang a hymn on Maundy Thursday evening with this line: “Your wondrous ways are not confined within the limits of my mind.” When Christ appears, breaking down the walls of doubt, he speaks peace to our heart. When the heart learns to trust, the mind easily follows.

Finally there is the wall of fear. The disciples, John says, had locked the doors “for fear of the Jews.” But fear has been a problem all along for these followers of Jesus. Fear caused them to scatter when things got tough. Fear made Peter deny that he even knew his Master. No, fear is nothing new to them.

Yet now Jesus appears to them, and in doing so, he breaks down the wall of fear. The ones who have been so terrified suddenly find themselves imbued with new courage and strength. Where does this courage come from? Well, I suspect that their fear had arisen from the feeling that they were without defense against some terrible evil. That’s usually the source of fear, is it not? We are afraid because something threatens us against which we have no power. In the minds of the disciples, the threat is the vengeance and malice of the Jewish leaders. They have seen that malice result in violence and death, and they are afraid they may be next.

But our fears are not so different. We are, perhaps, afraid of illness, afraid of death. We are afraid of financial ruin, or failure; afraid of what the future will bring. All these fears captivate us because we do not think we can do anything to save ourselves.

Yet Jesus breaks through the wall of fear and says, “Peace be with you.” To the disciples, his very presence is the evidence that what they feared in fact had no power. Death has no dominion over Jesus! And if Jesus is, in fact, more powerful than death, then what is there to fear? If he is there with them, nothing can harm them.

A pastor sat beside the bed of a young man in the last stages of leukemia. Struggling to form words, the dying man said, “Do you know what I’ve learned?” “What have you learned?” asked his friend. “I’ve learned that life is not like a VCR. When the times of troubles come, there is no fast-forwarding through them.” There was silence for a moment, then he spoke again. “Do you know what else I’ve learned? That Jesus is there, in every single frame; and right now, that’s enough.” Jesus is there, in every single frame of our life, breaking through the walls of fear, bidding us peace. Jesus is here, reminding us, as he did the disciples in that locked room, that there is no need to fear, for he is with us and nothing can separate us from him.

I found this poem by Robert Hale in my files:

Fear creeps in like a poisonous fog,

making us pull down the shades and double lock the doors.

Fear erects barriers of the mind

more real than barbed wire or the Berlin Wall.

Trembling disciples behind our barricades of fear,

we have forgotten the Master

who walked through all barriers.

And you, trembling disciple: today Jesus breaks through the walls of sin, doubt and fear and he says to you, “Peace be with you.”