A sermon for the Sunday after Easter, based on John 20:19-23 and Acts 4:32-35

It was late that Sunday evening and they were gathered together behind locked doors because they were afraid. They were afraid and they were distressed. They were distressed because in just a few days — just days! — the world as they knew it had ceased to exist.

Because he had become their world. It was their life to follow him, to listen to him, to learn from him, yes, maybe even to try to emulate him. Just days ago, they had still been with him in the lake country, moving from town to town, house to house, synagogue to synagogue, he astonishing the people with his air of authority and his healing touch and his urgent message — “The time is now! God is on the move among you now!”

They had warned him, urged him, begged him not to go to Jerusalem, not this time, not this year. They knew who and what was waiting for him there. They did not doubt that he knew too, but he went anyway and they went with him. The people saw him as he neared the city. The people saw him and recognized him and hailed his arrival with shouts and enthusiastic praise.

But then … it all unravelled … so fast. Judas — one of them! — Judas and Roman soldiers and Temple guards accosting him in the garden, taking him, binding him, hauling him off. Hauled before the high priest and then a Roman tribunal. Questioned and mocked and beaten … and executed.

And executed …

He was gone, he was dead, and the world as they knew it was gone. They had no one to follow now, no one to listen to now, no one to learn from, nowhere to go, nothing to do. They were afraid, they were distressed, they were at a loss, looking for answers, looking for peace.

And Jesus came among them, and said, “Peace be with you.”

It is Sunday morning and we are gathered, not together, because we can’t be together, but gathered virtually, seeing each other, hearing each other, but not touching, not being together. We are afraid and distressed. We are distressed because in just a few days it seemed — days that became weeks that became months and now a year and more — the world as we knew it ceased to exist.

An infectious and deadly virus has put all of us at risk, but even when it has not touched our bodies, it has
ravaged our souls. Some of the rhythms of our lives are seemingly the same. We sleep, eat, read, check the news, take a trip to the grocery, maybe take a walk in the woods, but so much is not, so much has been lost. No long-planned trip to Scotland, no trips to the museum or the art gallery, no concerts, no dinner parties, no going to the movies, no going to a game.

All these may seem extra, expendable, superfluous, but it is so much of our humanness that has been taken away, so much of what we do in community, so much of what we do with each other: the work we do together, the things we create together, the holidays we celebrate together, the new places or new ideas or new adventures we discover together. There is no being together. Our lives have become like our computer avatars: virtual, two-dimensional, insensate, isolated. There is no singing, no hugging, no handshakes. There is no communion.

Relaxed restrictions and accelerated vaccinations bring us a glimmer of hope, but we don’t know, we just don’t know. Infection rates are widely increasing, not decreasing, and new variants provoke new worries. So we are at a loss still, we are distressed still, and we are afraid still, looking for answers, looking for peace.

And Jesus comes among us, and says, “Peace be with you.”

Peace be with you …

Peace is Jesus’ gift to you, right here and right now. Not to some of you, but to all of you. Not because you have earned it or asked for it or even believed it, but simply because he gives it.

Peace be with you, peace that far surpasses all human understanding, peace that keeps you safe, peace that makes you well, peace that fills you up with every kind of good thing, peace that brings you every kind of blessing.

Peace be with you. It is his gift, and because it is his to give, you cannot lose it. This peace is unshakeable. No one and nothing can take it away from you. It is yours, it is ours, for always, today and tomorrow … always.

Peace be with you … in the midst of doubt, in the midst of uncertainty, in the midst of distress. This peace is not absence, not absence of conflict or absence of struggle or absence of pain. This peace is presence, the presence of Jesus and all he brings with him, the presence of endurance, the presence of strength, the presence of wisdom, the presence of joy, the presence of life that is full and meaningful and good.

Peace be with you. Peace of mind, yes, but more than that, so much more than that. Not inner peace, but human peace, peace of mind and soul and body, peace of the whole of us, and peace between us, peace as we eat and sleep and walk and work, peace as we watch and listen, peace as we think and feel and choose, peace as we vote and as we give and as we offer help, peace as we believe and as we live what we believe, peace as we speak words of peace, and peace as we make peace. For peace is also a way.

Peace is a gift and peace is a way.

There was no one among them who was in need. Do you hear? There was no one among them who was in need! All had enough, all had enough to live and to live well.

Because Jesus made them one. It wasn’t me against you anymore or me in competition with you or even me alongside you. It wasn’t me taking care of myself and mine anymore, but we, we taking care of each other, not merely caring about each other, but caring for each other, not sharing what we can spare, but sharing what we have.

There was no one among them who was in need, because Jesus made them one, and because the resurrection of Jesus set them free, free from fear, free from the need to store up in barns, free from having to make personal security priority #1, free to be generous, free to be wildly generous, free to be in love with this life, free to be in love with each other.

Resurrection is not just a spiritual reality; it is a human reality. Resurrection is not a promise for another life; resurrection is a promise for this life.

Resurrection is the promise — no, resurrection is the fact — that what is best, what is most precious, what is most beautiful, about the life we have, here and now, cannot and will not be taken from us.

Today we are not promised joy, we have joy, because Jesus lives and has made us alive with him. And today we are not promised peace, we have peace, because Jesus gives it. Because Jesus gives it.

Peace is his gift and peace is our way.

Peace be with you.