'Jesus himself stood among the disciples and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence.
Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things."'
--Luke 24: 36b-48
Happy Easter! Just making sure y’all remember we’re still in Easter – it’s the longest season of our church year, in fact, 50 days, so like Christmas, y’all can go around wishing people Happy Easter all the way up to May 9 and the Feast of the Ascension. Give it a try, and see what happens.
The argument can be made that it’s always Easter. Think about it, we live in a post-Resurrection world. In a very real sense, it’s always Easter, no matter what season of the church year we’re in. That’s why we celebrate Holy Eucharist every Sunday because the early followers of Jesus worshipped in solidarity with the day of Resurrection, so every Sunday is a sort-of mini-Easter, all year round.
We call such gatherings of ours Celebrations of the Holy Eucharist. That’s what Easter is, after all, a celebration, right? Sure, and at the same time it’s confusing, fearful, uncertain. At least, that’s how the disciples experienced it.
Last week we heard a post-Resurrection account from the Gospel of John in which Jesus seemingly appeared out of nowhere – or maybe even walked through a wall – and showed himself to his frightened disciples, including Thomas, who, rather than believe blindly demanded to have an experience of the resurrected Jesus. And this week it’s a similar story, now told by the Gospel of Luke, as Jesus shows up amongst the disciples, who are startled and terrified; and while they feel joy there’s also an element of disbelief: how is any of this possible?? Suddenly, he’s there. After nearly three days of sadness and despair, hope that has been utterly dashed and forsaken, with all that he had represented to them coming to a violent end, and now – poof – here he is again. All they had treasured had been suddenly ripped away, and now Jesus has decided to just not be dead anymore, and almost casually says, “Why are you frightened?”
As though he does not know. As though these past 72 excruciating hours have only been a small inconvenience. In their hiding place – likely that same upper room where they shared their last meal with him – they’ve been inundated by a flood of sorrow and fear as they’ve remembered – and maybe even tried to forget – all that has happened.
Here he stands. And what does he say to them? “Look at me. Look at my hands and my feet. See my scars.” They are not to look away from what troubles them, or avoid what brings them pain. He invites them to come closer to him. Touch him, see for themselves. They’re still not convinced, so he asks: do you have anything to eat? So casual, like an old friend showing up for dinner. It’s not entirely unlike the Eucharist, the sharing of bread and wine in a holy meal. It’s an initiation ceremony, as they are invited into the same life as the resurrected Jesus.
And here we see the hallmarks of that resurrected life, namely the appearance of the scars. The Rev. Nadia Bolz-Webber, the renowned Lutheran pastor and founder of the House for All Sinners and Saints, once wrote that we preachers are called to speak from the experiences of our scars, not our open wounds. What’s the difference, you might ask? The difference is that preaching from our wounds can be raw, to the point of moving us into a place of anger – righteous anger, we might say – creating a disconnect between us and the people with whom we minister, because we risk getting stuck there in our pain. But our scars represent healing. They represent hurt, yes, but also lessons learned. When we preach from our scars, rather than our wounds, we can be vulnerable without remaining stuck in our pain.
That advice may have been offered for us preachers, but sisters and brothers in the Lord Jesus, they are for all believers in resurrection. Because it is vital for us, as we share the Good News of the resurrection of Jesus, that we remember that he carries his scars with him, even when he his raised. Easter offers us all hope that things will be different, that anything is possible now that Jesus has gone to hell and come out clean on the other side. We have this hope, this Easter hope, and yet like the resurrected Jesus we still bear whatever scars we have born through whatever fiery hells we have been through. For Jesus to be raised with his scars still showing, means that even our pain can be redeemed and can teach us something about who we have been and who we will be. We can wear them proudly now, no longer afraid of them, but grateful even for where they brought us. Every broken road humanity had ever been down led to the empty tomb, and God bless the broken roads of our own lives that have led us to where we are, to these moments of celebration, where even our scars, our fears, our confusion, can be redeemed by our loving, liberating, and life-giving God.
Jesus shows up and meets the disciples in the midst of their fear; meets them right where they are. He doesn’t rebuke them. He doesn’t scold them. He offers them peace, the same peace we will pass with each other shortly, and he eats with them – maybe not the same meal we’ll share in a little while, after all fish would make for a very messy and smelly cleanup for altar guild. And he lets them see his scars, so that they know it’s really him. He shows his full self to them.
And to us. So that we who are ourselves prone to retreating to our hiding places built by our fears can look at our own scars, our own pain, and know that even they are redeemed and given new meaning. It was asked once by my favorite songwriter, “Can there be any sense in pain?” If the answer were no, then Jesus doesn’t keep his scars, doesn’t bear the marks of his own pain, his own broken road, as if none of it happened. Too often when folks experience pain, rejection, and abuse, they are told to wipe the slate clean, start over like none of it happened. "We don't talk about Bruno!"But we human beings can’t do that, not even Jesus. Even he doesn’t shy away the pain wrought by the cross, but through the resurrection, even that senseless pain is redeemed. And if we believe that the resurrection is real, not just for Jesus but for us all, then our own scars have been redeemed, too, and we can show our full selves, as well. That that is some good news, right there, for all of us.
Because we know it’s real, and because we know we can bear our scars proudly, we can also go and meet others in their fear. We can model for others that they need not be ashamed of their stories, no matter how painful, and that wearing their scars proudly, showing their full selves, brings meaning and hope And we can share what we have – bread, wine, maybe fish, maybe something more. This is what resurrected life – life in the ever-present reality of Easter – looks like.
