Easter 2B    John 20:19-31

“…the doors of the house where [they] met were locked for fear…” This is a description of Jesus’ disciples on that first Easter evening. They were afraid. So afraid! So much so that they were hidden, doors locked. It is a feeling we might find very familiar these days. At some point or another, we find ourselves afraid of what’s out there but recently, we have all found ourselves at home, afraid of what is out there, afraid of picking up or accidentally sharing a new and as yet largely unpredictable virus. Behind locked doors, afraid is a place many people in our world can find themselves, both physically and symbolically, and not only during times of a worldwide pandemic. But today we are keenly aware of how our fears can isolate us from others, leaving us locked up both literally and figuratively.

And it isn’t just this virus. We are terrified of violence, of strangers, of terrorism and crime. We are afraid for children in classrooms with active shooters and children kept in homes for fear of illness. In truth, it might be best to say that we are afraid of being vulnerable. When I used to visit my mother in Charlotte, I would listen to her talk about all the frightful things that occurred in her little suburban neighborhood, from people flying kites nearby to various salespeople who might have been casing her house. Maybe they were just trying to make a living or flying a kite. Or maybe they weren’t. Ultimately, it was her feelings of vulnerability that were the most frightening to her. And to me.

I wonder how many of us lie awake at night fearful that in the morning someone might accuse us of being followers of Jesus. That is what kept Jesus’ disciples fearfully behind closed doors on that first Easter evening. If they went out into the streets, someone might say, “We know that guy! He is a follower of Jesus. Bring him to trial and crucify him, too!”

Even if we do not understand what it is like to fear persecution for our religious beliefs, and in this country we absolutely do not experience this kind of persecution, we do understand what it means to be afraid. We share this human emotion with the followers of Jesus. And yet right in the middle of these fearful disciples stands the risen Jesus Christ. What does he say to his frightened, worried friends? Does he say: I’m really glad you bolted those doors! Or maybe put a big chair in front of it just to be safe. Or even: you’re just imagining things! There’s nothing to be afraid of! He gave no definitive answer on whether or not to wear masks.

“Peace be with you.”

That’s what he says. Peace be with you. Such an ordinary greeting and yet such an extraordinary gift in the middle of extraordinary times. What is this peace that Christ offers as they wrestle together with their deep anxiety and fear? What is this peace that Jesus offers us as we, too, struggle with deep fear and anxiety today? What is the peace Jesus brings into our broken and hurting world? It is not necessarily the kind of peace we might think about: merely the absence of fear and violence. Instead, it is a peace that gives a sense of relief along with freedom and encouragement to act in the world.

The peace of God as the relieving and releasing of anxiety and fear is, at the very same time, a peace that frees us to do the work of God in the world. The peace of God is in God’s freely given grace to us and it is not something the world can ever give us. It is not the kind of peace that comes from a quiet house or a free afternoon. Both of those are great, but Jesus is bringing about something more than these comparatively small things. It is a peace that turns us not inward in a brief and transient moment of distraction without conflict or fear, like an afternoon of binging the latest Netflix series, but moves us beyond ourselves, turning us outward. In our peaceless world, it is precisely the thing we need the most.

Before the crucified and risen Jesus sends his terrified disciples, and for that matter, you and me, out into the world, he gives us gifts. He gives the gift of himself. “Jesus said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hand and his side.” These disciples may not have spoken the same words that Thomas will later speak (I must see it to believe it) but they needed this gift of his presence just as much as he will. They needed something to hang their belief upon just as much as Thomas did. Funny how we always sort of look down on Thomas, but he misses this particular visit when Jesus shows the rest of the fright-filled disciples evidence of who he is and his being truly alive.

When we are feeling overwhelmed by fear, frustration or anxiety, do we ever say, “Where are you, God?” Where are you in this broken world filled to the brim with injustice; our world so torn by violence? Where are you in the suffering of my life and in the lives of those I love?

Where are you in the midst of our struggle with this virus? In the fall out of job loss and closing businesses that had been the pride and joy of the owner? In the staunched grief of losing loved ones without closure?

The wounds of Jesus’ crucified body, now risen to new life, give us some answers. God is not absent when we hurt, not missing from our times of fear, loneliness and lostness. Instead, Jesus is present right in the middle of it. That is a deep truth of the cross. God is present for us and for the whole of creation right there suffering and dying on the cross. As surely as he was present in the room with the disciples, not knocking on the door waiting to be let in, not on the edges supporting them and encouraging them as THEY struggled, but right smack in the middle of the room, God is with us all right now, too.

Jesus is right in the middle of the fear and doubt both then and now. Through Jesus’ life, suffering, death, and resurrection, God is not just looking down on us from heaven, Monday morning quarter-backing all our mistakes, telling us to just work a little harder or that there is nothing to be afraid of in the first place. Jesus is taking part, within our very being, bringing healing and peace in ways we cannot even fully understand.

When the crucified and risen Jesus Christ comes into our broken and fear-filled lives he not only gives us the gift of himself, but he also sends us into the world. “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so send I you.” Just think: into the violent world that had plotted against, betrayed and executed Jesus, he now sends his followers. Now, that’s a tough one! Notably, Jesus does not say: peace be with you and enjoy your retirement from discipleship. Nor does he say: peace be with you because the rest of your life is going to be a cake-walk. Actually, quite the opposite. Peace be with you and now I send you out into the world just as I was sent. The very same world. Peace is certainly assurance, removal of anxiety and fear. But the peace of Jesus isn’t a safe place far away from the world. It is also the freedom from the paralyzation of fear, the ability to take action and a re-connection with our troubled world around us.

So what does that look like? Do we see the purpose of our faith as being responsible for giving us a refuge from the rough spots of life? I hope so! But is that where God stops? Is faith only a place we can feel safe; because while fear is powerful and painful, is that all we really expect of our faith? Is God not even more powerful than that? If that is the case, and that is all that God is good for, anti-anxiety medication would be better. Is it possible for us to see our faith and the power that builds communities in which God comforts, heals, supports AND sends out into the world? And to see that goes back into the world with us, too. Into the very hurtful world we came from. I believe this is not only possible, it is exactly what this Peace Jesus gives is all about.

Thankfully, we are not sent into the fearful, broken world all on our own. The risen Jesus Christ sends us, just as he sent the disciples and just as God sent him, into the world with the power of the Holy Spirit. “When Jesus had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” When Jesus was baptized in the Jordan, the Spirit comes to him and is active throughout his ministry. This is another of Jesus’ gifts for us. It is also the first step of Jesus’ fulfillment of a promise he made to his followers—the promise that he does not leave us alone and orphaned but will give us the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to comfort, guide, and strengthen us. This promise will be completed at Pentecost with the creation of the church, but it begins here, with these living breaths of Jesus; living breath of the crucified Jesus who ought to be dead but is instead alive!

There are times when it seems like we are all on our own and it is up to us to find a way to bring peace into the world. We can understandably feel overwhelmed and discouraged. We can feel burned out, incompetent, and decide to throw our hands in the air and give up on making a change in the world for the better. We might even decide to just withdraw from the world, tend to our personal issues, turn our back on the rest of those who need us and forget about it all.

Can’t feed everyone! There will always be violence or crime and I can’t really do anything about it. Poverty, loss, disease, war; it’s all a real shame but it’s not like I can do anything about it. Sometimes all the need, the never-ending, deep and abiding need that the world seems to have, can make our efforts seem useless.

And yet, we hear the words of Jesus: As the father has sent me, even so, send I you. Jesus’ words are very specific here: As The Father Has Sent Me. In the same way I was sent, he says, I’m sending you. He is not unaware of the worlds’ deep and unending need. He knows how hopeless it looks when there are 5000 people and only a couple of loaves of bread and fish. He knows, all too well, that endless are the crowds of those who suffer and need the help of others. He knows exactly what the eyes of a person in physical pain, gripped by illness, look like. But he also knows the endless power of the Holy Spirit. It is the same spirit he gives us; the Holy Spirit he breathes upon us, both as individuals and as a whole community of faith.

As many a wise person has said, peace is not simply the absence of conflict; Peace is the presence of justice. We may not always agree on the way to peace, in fact it is almost certain that we will each have different visions of what peace should look like, yet in the power of the Holy Spirit, we are all sent into the violent and fearful world to be peacemakers. The crucified and risen Jesus gives us the gift of himself, sends us the power of the Holy Spirit, and with these, he also gives us the gift of mercy.

Jesus gives us the gift of forgiveness and the freedom to forgive others as well; to be makers of peace in the fearful, broken world. When he sent his terrified disciples into the world Jesus said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” It possible that Jesus might actually mean that it truly matters whether or not I tell and show my neighbor, my colleague, my brother, sister, son, daughter, parent, the truth that God forgives them? For gives us both? When we are heavily weighed down with guilt and shame, it is nearly indiscernible from helplessness and fear. The hardest words to really believe are these: “you are forgiven”. Perhaps even more so: “God forgives you.” Yet that is the very good news we receive and are asked to take out into the world. Mercy. Forgiveness. Grace.

The simplicity of those words seems so small and powerless in a world that seems to constantly shout about all that we must do to be acceptable, to be ashamed of any flaw we might have, to seek revenge for any slight given!  And yet, these small words are what God speaks to us. These small words are more powerful than entire lifetimes of fear and shame and vengefulness.

You are forgiven. In the eyes of God, there is nothing in your past for which you need to atone, make up for or pay for, and there is nothing in the future you need to fear. There is nothing standing between you and God except love. By the power of the Holy Spirit given to us by Jesus himself we are free to trust our whole lives to God. That is good news…a truth so powerful that it frees us to go into the world to bear witness to that love, that grace, that mercy we’ve just experienced, by forgiving others in the same way, by serving our neighbor and by working for justice and peace.

This does seem hard right now doesn’t it? Stay at home, they tell us. And they are right. This is how we love our neighbor. Perhaps our going is going into the hospital or doctor’s office or to work in an essential job, to be one of those who stands between this virus and the vulnerable. Perhaps our going is going to a computer screen to teach children in a zoom meeting, or provide comfort and presence with a virtual tool. Perhaps, as is true for the overwhelming majority of us, our going out into the painful and broken world is resisting the urge to drive into town and risk our own health and that of others.

For certain, going into this broken world will look different for each of us and, in the not too distant future, it will look like walking into a world that will look quite different on the other side of this pandemic. It may look like giving when we would rather hold on to what we have, stretching our minds and hearts to understand the suffering of another and finding the courage to work for change.

I do not know what it will look like to walk out of our hiding rooms into the world, but what I do know is this: Jesus goes with us. This day and every day.

Jesus said, Peace be with you. As the father has sent me, even so send I you.