Preached on April 15th, 2018 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 24:36b-48 On this third Sunday of Easter we hear a third gospel story of the resurrection. We’ve heard from the gospels of Mark and John so far. Now we hear from Luke. It is still the third day. The women have been to the tomb and found it empty. In Luke’s case there were two men in dazzling clothes to give them the message that Jesus had risen. And then there were the two who traveled the road to Emmaus, and met a stranger they invited to dinner. Even though their hearts were warmed as this stranger explained the scriptures to them, they did not recognize Jesus until they sat down to eat and he broke bread in his characteristic way. At that moment he vanished from their sight. They got up right away and high tailed it back to Jerusalem to tell the others, who were gathered together in the room. The Lego Bible depicts the disciples’ hangout as a kind of morning after scene. The guys are playing cards. What else would they do … sitting there waiting for what comes next? There are empty beer cans scattered around the room and full ashtrays. It’s messy. They’ve gone through the full range of emotions these past couple of days: frustration, guilt, grief, doubt, anxiety, suspicion, restlessness, despondency and terror. Fear dominates. Their beloved leader has suffered a horrific death, and his body is missing. They have no assurance of security, other than to lock themselves away. If Pilate’s henchmen arrived at the door with their swords, they would have no defense. They’re numb and fidgety. They are traumatized. Five years ago, in April 2013, my entire family was out of town for the school vacation week. On the Monday evening we heard the news. There had been a bombing during the Boston Marathon. It was impossible to imagine the carnage of the scene. It was difficult to believe that this iconic Boston event usually so filled with good spirit and good will, had been disrupted by just two people bent on violence and destruction. Of course, my heart went out to all the runners: those who arrived exhausted and bewildered at the finish line and those further back, who heard confused reports of what was going on. My heart went out to those who were hurt, or whose loved ones were hurt, and those who were waiting for news of loved ones. My heart went out to the first responders and the hospital staff receiving the horrifically wounded. And my heart went out to all those on the scene who just did what they could. As soon as the news unfolded, my heart also went out to the staff and residents of the eldercare facility in Roslindale where I worked at the time. They would be on lockdown and scared. I knew that the news reports would blare out on the TV screens in the elderly residents rooms. Many of these residents had already been traumatized by the events of their lives: the holocaust, World Wars, immigration and resettling. They didn’t need more fear and anxiety to trigger their disturbing memories. The staff, nurses, aides and housekeeping would have to work not only the holiday, but every shift until the lockdown lifted. These carers carried their own traumas. The many immigrants from Haiti had recent memories of a devastating earthquake, as well as the ongoing trauma of displacement. But, as they went about their business, they would have to put those feelings aside to tend to the anxious elderly. My heart went out to all of them. And so, as we return to the traumatized disciples in that room on “lockdown” perhaps we can understand their state of trauma. They are in this state when Jesus comes and stands among them and says the one thing they need to hear: “Peace be with you.” He doesn’t go on to say that life will be blessed beyond the grave. That they can go now, safely with him to heaven. No, he doesn’t lay on a security blanket. Instead he shows them his hands and feet – perhaps still wounded from the cross – and he asks them to touch him. And he asks for something to eat. But then, he goes on to teach. He gets right back to scripture. He reminds them of God’s habit of doing unexpected things. He draws their attention back to Moses and the prophets. These are the biblical books that "proclaim God's word" for the people. They are reminded that God always affirms God’s people in the face of rejection and suffering. It is God’s habit to bring life from death. He reminds them of the possibility of repentance, and the hope of forgiveness. And in this moment, we see the disciples repent. They turn from their fears. They turn from their guilt and shame. They turn from their trauma. They turn from all of the things had caused them to shut down. This is just as well because they have been commissioned to begin their ministry in Jerusalem. They are to proclaim repentance and forgiveness of sins, not only for their own people but for all nations. The resurrected Jesus brings peace to an atmosphere of fear, trauma, emotional shutdown, and physical lockdown. This understanding of peace, Shalom in Hebrew, is not only the absence of distress or conflict. It is an experience wholeness, wellbeing and restoration. It is the opposite of shut-down. Jesus words of peace bring healing the disciples’ trauma and enable their minds to open to possibilities. The United Church of Christ’s own Old South Church, right on Boylston Street in Boston is known as “the church of the finish line.” Each year, the Sunday before the marathon – this Sunday – they hold “blessing of the athletes” services. The marathon runners are invited to come into the church for a special blessing. Hands are place on their shoulders. The blessing proclaimed from the pulpit asks God to keep them safe and to give them perseverance, that “they may run and not grow weary, walk and not faint.” The year I served Old South as a ministerial intern, it was my great honor and privilege to bless the athletes that had overflowed the large sanctuary into the narthex. The year following the horrific events of the marathon bombing, some of the Old South church ladies initiated a special project. They invited the knitters and crochet-ers of UCC churches to create “peace” scarves for the 2014 Blessing of the Athletes. These scarves were to be knit in the blue and gold colors of the Boston Athletic Association. The organizers wanted the courageous runners, both returning and new, to experience a special blessing that year. The knitters got started and the project spread like wildfire. Boston area stores ran out of blue and gold yarn and had to ship in more. The scarves poured in from UCC churches all over the country. The organizers had hoped for a few hundred scarves in the 10 weeks leading up to the Marathon. They actually received more than 7,300. The scarves did not only come from American churches. The Islamic Society of Boston, put out a call to Muslims to knit. “Salaam scarves” poured in. As did scarves from all around the world. On Easter, 2014, the day of resurrection, the Old South ministry was able to bless numerous athletes wrapping the scarves around their necks as a tangible message of Shalom, “peace be with you.” These were not just one-way messages. Many runners wrote back to their scarves’ creators or posted on the church facebook page. The most poignant messages came from runners who were unable to finish the 2013 marathon and had come back in 2014. One recipient wrote “I felt honored to receive [my scarf] at the blessing of the athletes at Old South Church on Easter Sunday. What a beautiful service and a kind way to inspire me to run with strength and finish the race I started in 2013. Thank you, Boston, scarf knitters and Old South Church!!” A week or so after the 2015 event I was back at work in the chaplain’s office at the Hebrew Rehab Center. I answered the phone to hear from a representative of the Jewish Chaplains Council. “We’re just calling to see how you all are doing,” she said. For a moment I didn’t know what she meant. Then I realized, she was reaching out to Boston area facilities, knowing the trauma that people would still be feeling. I passed along the message to my supervisor. Later I learned that the Israeli Trauma Coalition had sent a team to lead workshops for clergy, school and hospital personnel in the Boston area. It was their message of peace, Shalom, for Boston. It is understandable that the marathon bombing provoked fear and trauma in our culture. But, in our lives today, we are assaulted by many other fears. If we do not challenge these fears, they threaten put us on lockdown in our own private rooms of trauma. We are on lockdown due to fears of criminals in our communities. We are on lockdown due to fears cultivated by racism and suspicion of “the other” in our neighborhoods. We are on lockdown due to fears of bullies, in work, school or family, who wish to exert control over us. We are on lockdown due to those who tell us there is nothing to be done, except to hunker down and keep strangers out. And so, I pray that in our places of lockdown, the risen Jesus will stand among us with his message of peace. So that we will not be afraid to cultivate communities of friendship and neighborliness to hinder criminal activity. So that we will not be afraid to stand against racism and suspicion, befriending those who are treated as “other.” So that we will resist bullies, standing our ground when they attempt to control us. So that we break out of our locked down homes and rooms to build bridges, befriending strangers who fear us, perhaps, as much as we fear them. My friends, the peace of the risen Jesus is not a security blanket to cover us. It is marathon scarf around our neck. So let us put on our scarves and get in the race. May all God’s people say, Amen
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