Text: John 20:18-20
Almost every Easter, we focus on the tomb.
We focus on the women.
We spend all of our time and attention on that glorious moment when they discover the tomb is empty and Jesus is alive and they have a story to tell.
But this morning, I want to focus on the rest of the disciples.
As my friend, Rev. Allison Lanza, reminded me a few weeks ago, the rest of the disciples were not at the tomb.
They were not in the garden.
They were not taking risks and bringing oils to honor the body of their Lord.
As Rev. Lanza wrote,
“On the very first Easter the disciples were locked in their house. It was dangerous for them to come out… They were living in a time of such despair and such fear. If they left their homes their lives and the lives of their loved ones might be at risk.”
Only a few of us are able to gather here at this empty church to lead worship for this morning… just like only a few ever gathered to witness the empty tomb.
The rest of the disciples… the rest of the church… the rest of the faithful…
Well, you are home.
You are home where you are safe.
You are home where you are doing everything you can to protect your loved ones.
You are home because it is dangerous not just for ourselves, but for our vulnerable neighbors as well, to go out.
It is not irrational fear keeping you home… but very real concerns and worries and sensible measures that we need to take to care for one another.
This year, we may not be dressed up in fancy clothes and crowding into the pews.
One of our biggest disappointments might be missing out on that beautiful and delicious Easter Breakfast put on by VIM.
We aren’t watching the kiddos squeal and run past each other finding eggs and crashing after eating all the candy.
But maybe what we are experiencing this year is a glimpse into what that very first Easter was like for those who followed Jesus.
It wasn’t about candy or food or clothes.
It was a group of people who were grieving and lonely and scared.
They were heartbroken and frustrated.
Everything they had planned and all of the possibility vanished on the cross.
They were desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.
We don’t have to imagine what that was like.
We are living it.
We have loved ones who have tested positive for Covid-19 and you are worried about them and unable to go visit.
We are longing for connection and know you shouldn’t risk it.
We are grieving people in our lives that we have lost but have been unable to go and properly mourn.
All of the plans that we had for this spring… concerts, games, graduation, weddings… heck, even simply barbeques or camping trips or playdates…
In the blink of an eye it was gone.
Postponed indefinitely.
We are desperate for a glimmer of hope, a hint of good news, a ray of possibility.
I have to be honest… somewhere early in the midst of this crisis, I suggested that we postpone Easter.
I just couldn’t wrap my head around Easter with the church filled up with people.
I couldn’t imagine laughing and singing and praising God and shouting CHRIST IS RISEN… without having all of you shouting it back to me.
And Easter is technically a moving holiday… we celebrate it on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox… which is another way of saying, it doesn’t matter what day it is.
So I got this idea that we should just wait and sit in Lent for a little while longer and postpone Easter until that Sunday when all of us could gather and hug and sing and shout and stuff our faces with food.
But then I realized… this was not going to be a delay of a week or two.
And maybe more than ever we need a glimmer of hope.
We need a hint of good news.
We need to see that ray of possibility.
Easter wasn’t cancelled or postponed or forgotten because the disciples were huddled together, shut behind locked doors, closed off to the world.
Easter wasn’t limited to the few people who were able to gather at the empty church… I mean tomb… on that morning.
Easter wasn’t simply a rumor or a story told by others.
And you know what, that first Easter wasn’t even something the disciples had to risk their own lives to go out and experience.
No, John tells us in his gospel account that even there amid the apprehension and uncertainty and fear, the miracle of Easter showed up.
The resurrected Jesus somehow slipped passed those dead bolts and latches and stood among them.
Right where they were.
In the safety of their homes.
God-with-us… Immanuel.
On Easter Sunday, there were a few who were called to go out and proclaim the story.
In some ways, I resonate with Mary, tasked with bringing the news from the empty tomb to share it with all of you.
But not everyone could.
Not everyone was safe.
Easter was for them, too.
I don’t know what your Easter will be like this year, but here is one thing for which I am certain.
God is with you.
The Lord of Life is with you.
The Hope of the World is in your midst.
And when he showed up with those first disciples in their homes, the first words he uttered acknowledge their… our… difficult reality.
“Peace be with you.”
He didn’t scold them.
He didn’t open the doors and push them out into the world.
Jesus offers a word of reassurance.
He simply offers peace.
Peace unlike any else that the world gives.
A breath of the spirit that reminded them of the words spoken just days earlier as they gathered around the table in the upper room.
“do not Let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 NRSV)
“In the world you have distress. But be encouraged! I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33 CEB)
We sometimes think about peace as a calm.
Or as the absence of war.
But the Hebrew use of peace was an all-encompassing word of complete and total well-being.
It meant salvation.
It meant being “uninjured and safe, whole and sound.” [1]
Jesus stands in their midst, wounds still visible, and yet he reassures them that all is whole and well and that his earthly work among them is complete.
Jesus is our peace.
He is our shalom.
Through him, we are restored to God…
We are restored to one another…
And we are sent forth to restore the world…
My prayer for you, today, is that that same peace would show up in your homes.
That the Easter blessing of peace might find you wherever you are.
I pray that in spite of everything, you might be able to breathe in that gift of peace.
The apostle Paul knew a little something about being under house arrest, imprisoned, unable to go out and visit and care for those whom he had grown to love.
But even in a prison cell, the peace of Christ was with him.
And so his words to the people of Philippi, I share now with you.
4 Rejoice[c] in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.[d] 5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Wherever you are this morning, friends, let that
Easter gift of blessed peace fill your lives.
Amen.
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