Low
Sunday
Text: John 20:19-31
“Quasi modo
geniti infantes…” As newborn babes (desire the sincere milk of
the word…). So began our worship this
morning, as the choir sang that exhortation from the passage found in I Peter 2:2. A week ago today, the Feast of Pascha was the
supreme picture of crossing out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of
light; out of the wilderness into the land of milk and honey. It’s when many throughout the world are
baptized and “put on Christ” symbolized by their white albs worn during the
baptism. Now, eight days later, we
celebrate the “Sunday of putting away the albs” as
But I don’t care how low you may
feel today, no one could have felt any lower than those confused disciples that
were huddled in that room on the night of the resurrection. Judas was dead and who knows where Thomas
might have been; maybe at the local pub drowning his sorrows.
Yet, in the midst of their fear and panic, suddenly there was a Visitor who announced to them…“Peace to you.” Those are the very first words the risen Lord Jesus says to the gathered disciples on that blessed Pascha evening. Something important must be going on there.
“Peace to you.” Those words summarize the
result of Jesus’ work.
What does it mean that Jesus died? --- “Peace to you.”
What does it mean that Jesus rose again? ---“Peace to you.”
What now is God’s attitude to you? ---“Peace to you.”
It’s what everyone is searching for. World peace. Inner peace. But the fundamental condition of mankind is a lack of peace.
This week, I saw a hymn called, “Lord of Our Life,” and in it there’s a verse that prays to God for “Peace in our hearts, where sinful thoughts are raging.” The non-Christian feels no guilt or suffering on account of those raging sinful thoughts, but he still feels the effect of sin; he simply does not know how to name the problem.
Our problem is fundamentally a God-problem. God made
us to be in communion with Him: in Him “we live and move and have our being” as
So man searches for some solution.
Perhaps with better government, we can bring peace.
Perhaps with better education, we can enlighten mankind toward peace.
Perhaps if we lived by the Beatle’s John Lennon’s philosophy, and relaxed our attitudes and mores on sex, we can give
peace a chance.
Perhaps with better religion, or no religion at all, we can finally achieve
peace.
Sometimes we catch a glimpse of it, experiencing peace for a moment. The good gifts of God’s creation can still be enjoyed despite the fallenness of the world. But even that seems to always be fleeting and temporary. What we learn from the Word of God is that there is nothing we can do to attain, accomplish, win or gain eternal peace; and those without the law do not even realize the danger they are in. I wonder, just how many winners of the Nobel Peace Prize have actually had the “Peace of God” in their lives?
So when the priest says to, “The Lord be with you” it’s a short-hand version of “The Peace of the Lord be with you.” Hear it afresh in a few minutes when I say the complete version of it right after I fracture the priest’s host and put a fragment of it into the Chalice. When Jesus says “Peace to you,” it is far more than a greeting, or a wishful sentiment. When Jesus says, “Peace to you,” He gives it. His Word accomplishes what it says; those words deliver to you the benefits of the cross and resurrection. On Good Friday, Jesus said, “It is finished” – the things that make for our peace were accomplished. On Easter Sunday, the angel announced, “He is risen” – demonstrating that peace with God had been made, and the sentence of death no longer hangs over mankind. And on Pascha evening, and again the following Sunday, Jesus came where the Church was gathered and announced it to them: “Peace to you!” What Jesus has done in His cross and resurrection is the only way to a true and lasting peace.
And if you are anything like me, you hear that incredible, amazing story and say, “I would like that – no, I need it. My life is a mess, my heart is a mess, and I often feel no peace. I know darkness, I feel sin, I have failed in so many things, I have felt depression and despair, there are those whom I have hurt and those whom I have failed to help, and sometimes I am afraid of dying.” The Lord Jesus knows all of that. He experienced all the things we have, everything that is common to a human being. And just as He sought out His lost and fallen disciples to give them His peace, so has Jesus established the means to give us His peace. In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus establishes the Apostolic Office of Ministry, sending out these first pastors with the job of bringing the forgiveness of sins to people. That is the way—that is the only way—that they, that we, are going to have peace. Holy absolution—when the Pastor says, “I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”—that is God’s declaration of peace to you.
Now that can happen anytime, anywhere. But John’s Gospel shows us a pattern that begins from the day of Jesus’ resurrection, the first Easter: the disciples were gathering together—and Jesus kept on showing up in their midst—on the first day of the week, Sunday. This pattern continues down to the present day, as the disciples of Jesus still gather on the first day of the week to remember His resurrection, hear His word, receive His peace, and be in His presence as He promised: in His body and blood.
Now our naked eyes do not see that. With our eyes we see a man whose attire is quite a few centuries out of date; we see people getting ordinary bread dipped in wine; we see water splashed; and we have an image of a man being brutally executed as a criminal. It would be nice to have a little more to go on, something first-hand. Can it all really be true? Be honest with me! Haven’t you had a Sunday or two when you’ve come and the music might have been slightly off-key, and the sermon was a strike-out and not even a base hit, and you gave your last bit of money for the week, only to find in Monday’s mail, a bill due that you had forgotten about? Then you question, “am I just wasting my time by being in church on Sundays? Is this stuff EVEN true?”
That was Thomas’s situation: “Unless I see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.” We shouldn’t be too hard on Thomas. We often demonstrate a lack of faith, by our doubts and by our sins. But what we should take away from this is the compassion of Jesus. Thomas, who refuses to believe, is sought out by Jesus and shown mercy. The words of Jesus, “Peace to you,” are for Thomas. This means they are also for you and me. We do not deserve them. Our lives have demonstrated time and again that we are hard of heart, doubting, stubborn. But our Lord through His Church has sought us out, and He does not give up on you.
In the Sacred Scriptures, our Lord has given us the evidence that we need: the eyewitness testimony of what happened, that we too might believe and have life and peace. Our faith does not depend on a feeling or an experience, but on the objective truth, the history that the crucified Jesus really did rise from the dead, appearing to the disciples and to Thomas, and that in this Jesus we too may have life and peace.
So how shall we respond to this Gospel? First, when the troubles of life make us feel no peace, or when our doubts threaten our peace, or when our sins make us doubt the love of God, we must remember that God’s peace is an objective thing, not subject to the roller-coaster ride of our emotions and experiences. In repentance and faith, we run to where the Lord Jesus has put His peace – in the means of grace.
And second, receiving our Lord’s peace means we will strive to convey that peace to our neighbors; living at peace with them. Since we have peace with God, the Scripture says that, as far as it is depends on us, we should live peaceably with all people.
Christ is risen, dear friends, and the tokens of His peace He bestows to us in this wonderful Sacrament! Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!