The Feast of Pentecost, Year A

God’s Power to Transform

Readings: Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:24-34; 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13; John 20: 19-23

When I was in my curacy my supervisor, Harold Roberts, came into my office just before Pentecost with a picture of the outpouring of the Spirit. “What’s wrong with this picture?” he asked me.

I took a good look at it. It was a picture of the upper room, filled with people, men and women, and over each one of them was a tongue of fire. It seemed to me to be a pretty reasonable and accurate depiction of Pentecost, so I said to him, “Not a thing! Looks good to me?

“But there are women in the picture,” he said to me. “Was he bating me?” I thought to myself.

“Indeed there are!” I remarked. “I have always understood that the whole community was gathered together.”

And so we began to read the passage of Scripture from the Acts of the Apostles. Harold decided at that point that it was just the inclusive nature of the New Revised Standard Version of Scripture from which we were reading. So I got out my Greek Testament, and sure enough, in Greek there is a clear distinction between the first chapter which is recounting the events of Jesus and his disciples, and the second chapter which makes it clear that the whole community was gathered together. “They were all there,” it says. Women, men, children, all of the faithful assembled for worship. The Spirit of God moved them in an astounding way. The Spirit moved all of them, these beleaguered people who had been hiding out in fear ever since the execution of their leader. And it had an astounding effect on them. They were suddenly transformed. In fact, the transformation is so great that Luke can scarcely find the words to express it. It was a sound, he says, “like the rush of a violent wind.” Then the sound gave way to tongues of fire that settled on each person. Each one was filled with that gentle spirit which swept through the place that day.

And what a difference it made in their lives! They were inspired to speak in other languages. They were freed up to preach the Gospel. They understood the risen Christ to be the Lord of their lives. They proclaimed the Good News of the Gospel, that Jesus Christ who is risen is alive for evermore. So awesome an experience was it that they never looked back. Two thousand years later the Church still proclaims Christ, risen, ascended, glorified. Pentecost truly is the birthday of the Christian Church. It is the culmination of the Easter story.

It is fitting that on this Feast of the Pentecost we should celebrate. We celebrate through our liturgical acts, through our hymns and prayers, the coming of the Holy Spirit. But it seems to me, that is not truly what Pentecost is about. The gift of the Spirit has always been given to God’s people. What we should be celebrating at this time is that fresh outpouring of the Spirit set loose in the world. Pentecost has happened to us. We do not need to sit around and wait for supernatural signs of the Holy Spirit in our lives. The Holy Spirit has been given and continues to abide within the lives of those who follow Christ.

So today we are going to celebrate the gifts that God has given to us. It is a wonderful day to do that for this year it falls on Mother’s Day. And so that secular celebration takes on new meaning for us as we cherish the gift that motherhood brings. Consider the gifts that our mothers bring into our lives. As I look back on my own mother I realize what a gift she was. She loved and nurtured us as we were growing up. She had strength of character that taught us that no matter what life brought, we could handle it. She may not have the scholarly intellect of our father, but she had a curiosity about life, common sense and a quick wit. She had a beautiful faith which sustained her throughout her life. Today I celebrate the gifts that she shared so freely during her lifetime.

And then our Diocese sets this day apart as one in which we honour our cultural riches and the diversity of our community of faith. Just as the people of God of every description, male, female, young and old, rich and poor, were gathered together in that upper room on the first Pentecost, so we in all of our diversity are gathered in communion all over the globe. In this congregation we are truly blessed. We come from all parts of the world. Yet we share in common our love of Christ and the traditions of our Anglican communion. We are reminded at Pentecost about who we are and about how we are called to be Church. We look forward to the time we can realize the vision that Christ makes possible. Christ transforms our life together, so that no one is a stranger, but all are members of the household of God.

So how do we allow the Spirit of God to transform our lives? What would happen in our churches and in the world if we did? If we were truly alive in Christ … If we were passionate about our faith … If we were fired up with enthusiasm … How could our gifts transform the world?

The answer to that is endless. It depends only on using the gifts that God has given us. We come to church to renew ourselves, to awaken ourselves to all that God is doing in our lives, to open ourselves to the gifts of the Spirit. Sometimes we think a gift of the Spirit has to be amazing, supernatural. Or we confuse gifts with talents. That is because on the whole the world values talent and skill far more than it values gift. Skill has to do with our role in life, what we have learned to do. Gift has to do with who we are. We need to discover in ourselves how God has gifted us. That is far more difficult to do than to assess our skills.

We all have gifts, attributes that make us truly who we are. Gifts are things like joy or hope or compassion. Our gifts define us as humans. They are gifts of God’s grace alive in us. As a community it is up to us to affirm one another in the gifts that we see, to draw out in each other that spiritual gift that is uniquely ours.

Take a moment to consider how God has gifted you with grace. Think about someone you know in our congregation. What word would you use to describe that person’s gift? You may even find yourself sharing your thoughts with that person. It may be something he or she needs to hear to spur them into action.

Pentecost has happened to us. The Holy Spirit has been given. The Spirit continues to work within our lives. And so we pray, Holy Spirit, move within us that we may know you to be at work in our lives and in our hearts. Amen.

The Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year A

An Air of Expectancy

Readings: Acts 1:6-14; Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35; 1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:5-11; John 17:1-11

The Feast of the Ascension coming as it does mid week on a Thursday passes without much notice. If there is a service it is usually a quiet one attended by the faithful few. I grew up in a tradition where it was marked with great solemnity. Children from the congregation were encouraged to attend a morning service. We were given a holy card to take to school to explain our lateness, so of course, we attended in droves.

I remember the service well. The paschal candle, lit for the first time at the Easter Vigil and then for each service during Easter tide was extinguished. It was removed from the centre aisle of the church and placed by the font. In a very tangible way it caused us to reflect on the meaning of the Ascension of Christ, that the risen Christ was no longer present in physical form. It resonated in us the question the disciples were asked as they continued to gaze toward Heaven. “Why do you stand looking up into heaven?” It was a reminder that the time for a tangible, visible presence is over. Jesus is still present to the Church. Jesus will always be present to the Church, but in a new way. This is not the time for stargazing. This is the time to prepare ourselves to be the church in the world.

That makes it a time of transition in our lives. We know such times in our personal lives. They can be times of bewilderment and fear; they can also be times of great excitement and progress if we do not allow ourselves to get bogged down by what is happening. Above all they are times marked by the passing of the torch.

I remember so well that feeling as I participated in the funeral for my father. I looked around at my brother and sisters and realized that we were now the older generation. The torch had been passed to us. It came to me as I suspect it comes to most people with a sense of shock. It was now up to us to carry on the family traditions. Mine is the generation that is responsible for the state of things. There is no one else to blame. That is an awesome responsibility.

Is that why the disciples stood there looking up into the heavens? They have been basking in the glow of the resurrection. They have been rejoicing that their beloved leader after being cruelly executed is with them once again. They have been experiencing the power of God at work in their lives. And now Jesus has been taken away from them. This time there is a finality about it. He has prepared them for the time, but somehow you are never really ready for it. He has commissioned them, giving them a wonderful promise. “You will receive power. You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” It is now up to them. They are to carry out the mission of Jesus. The torch is theirs. It is an awesome responsibility. They can stand there and star gaze, but they will be no earthly good. They can turn inward and become so wrapped up in their sense of loss that they miss out on the opportunity to serve God. They can run away in confusion as they did following the crucifixion. Or they can remember the promise that Jesus has made to them that they will be equipped for the work that needs to be done. And they can begin to act as if…

There is something very exciting, energizing, about having the torch passed on to you, about coming into your own, about taking responsibility. I think the time I see that excitement most clearly is when people become parents. So many things change for them. They change the way they live their lives. They drive more cautiously. They give up their self indulgent ways to live more simply, to consider the needs of the family before their own. Life becomes focused on the family. They become more concerned with their faith. They bring their children for baptism as these two families have today. They make decisions about their sense of commitment.

The disciples were energized by Jesus’ promise. That is evident by their actions. They become a community gathered in preparation. They have shared in the difficult times. Now they share in prayer. It is an excellent model of what needs to happen at St. Francis if this congregation is to be truly alive.

Like the disciples we may be handling a difficult situation in our personal lives. It may be an in between time in our lives, a time between loss and promise. We all face those times in our lives – the loss of a loved one, empty nest syndrome, broken relationships. How we deal with them and allow ourselves to know the promise of God is a measure of our commitment to the gospel.

It happens in our parish life. It is not always easy to live as we do as part of an Ecumenical community of faith, especially when one of our partners is unable to meet their financial obligations. The Church Centre seems like an amazing opportunity to share in ministry, but the reality is that when survival is in question human nature being what it is, we look for someone to blame. It is easy to become self absorbed and not open yourselves to the wider community. There is the worry that they will get swallowed up by the larger congregations. We forget what a blessing it is to serve God in our diversity of ways.

There is an energy that comes about whenever people share their faith with one another. It is a curious thing, but when we find ourselves moved to say to one another, “I believe”, then that excitement gets passed on. The question is, how do we do it? How do we live in uncertain times still holding the promise of Jesus? The same promise that he gave to the disciples, he gives to each one of us.

For that, the disciples are a wonderful role model. We need only follow their example. The first thing is obvious; the others are implied. They prayed. They came together as a community and they prayed. They prayed for one another. They prayed for the needs they saw around themselves in the world. They looked back on what Jesus had told them and they savoured the message. They remembered the promises and looked forward to the time they would be fulfilled. They focused on what was really important. And they lived as if … They lived with hope, trusting the promises.

There is such an air of expectancy about the disciples, a sense of urgency. “What next?” they seem to be saying. They are about to embark on a new way without Jesus to guide them. This is uncharted territory. The way ahead is not clear. It is a time of testing, of discovery.

We all need times like that in our lives. They are fruitful times. So in those in between times we need to pray. Pray even when the prayer is “I can’t pray!” Consider the loss and find out what it means in your life. Does it mean that I should be spending more time with my spouse? Does it mean putting into action something that I have been intending to do my whole life? Where is God leading me?

As a congregation we need to grasp the in between times in exactly the same way. Our Advisory Board is going to do exactly that as they go away for a retreat. Maybe there are others who would be willing to be part of that. We need to go away to learn, to pray, to dream and especially to hope. To look for the hope in everything that is happening. And then to put it all into action, knowing that God’s promises hold good.

Let us live with an air of expectancy, with a sense of urgency about the faith. Let us share our faith with conviction and excitement.

The Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year A

This is the first Sunday of FaithWorks, our annual Outreach campaign. I am not preaching. I am turning the pulpit over to our Outreach coordinator. I look forward to hearing her message.

The Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year A

Following the Way

Readings: Acts 7:55-60; Psalm 31:1-8, 15-16; 1 Peter 2:2-10; John 14:1-14

Growing up as I did in a large family had its challenges. There were anxious moments where we felt that we were being treated unfairly. There were always five children vying for a window seat in our little Morris station wagon. Dinner at the dining room table meant that someone sat on a corner with the leg in their way. Seven people lined up to use one bathroom in the morning meant total chaos. But we lived in a mansion. At least that was how it seemed to our friends. The inner city rectory I grew up in was a grand old house. The entry opened into a large hall with a central staircase. There was a huge living room with an alcove and fireplace. Each child had his or her own bedroom. There was even a spare room for guests. Until it too became a bedroom, we had a playroom in the attic filled with toys. There was a wonderful backyard, an oasis in the inner city that attracted all the neighbourhood children.

Yet those doubts that come from being the youngest, or the oldest, or the middle of the pack still remained. We worried individually that we were not pretty enough or smart enough. We were worried that there was not enough love to go around and that we probably did not deserve it any way. Fears that life was not always fair made us anxious.

In the Gospel for today Jesus is addressing the disciples. Their hearts are anxious. They are concerned that God cannot accommodate them with their many differences. They are worried that if that happens they will be excluded, passed over for others who are more deserving or wealthier or cleverer.

They had been having an argument about who would be the greatest. It was self-serving, and so of course, it could not be resolved.

The problem for the disciples was in understanding how the grace of God works. They could not see how God could be so large. In a world of class and status they knew that they were at the bottom of the heap. They may be searching for upward mobility, for economic and political status. But they still doubt that they are even worthy of consideration. They are looking for validation from Jesus. And yet ironically they are simply part of a system that is being done to death in the events that are playing out before them. Their beloved leader is about to be executed. Unprepared though they might be, they are about to assume leadership for the fledgling faith community. If anyone needs to understand God’s grace it is the disciples.

Jesus assures them that in God’s house there are many rooms. It is a veritable mansion. There is a place for everyone. The way in is broad and expansive. It is also ambiguous, open, an enigma. Their skepticism remains. They simply cannot embrace the idea that the gospel is not about status. It has nothing to do with how clever or wealthy or important they are. It has to do with God’s choosing of them and their willingness to serve. If anything it is a gospel of equality and inclusivity.

Jesus might simply have dismissed the disciples’ fears. He might have thought they were being cowardly. He might have thought that given everything that was coming down there was simply no point in trying to alleviate their fears. But he understood the grace of God. He knew that the love of God is for everyone. He knew that these disciples were part of God’s plan, and he was not about to give up on them.

This gospel is addressed to each one of us. It is essential that we understand that. We need to know that despite our misgivings about our abilities, about our deeming of ourselves to be unworthy, God’s grace is accessible. Do we realize that God is with us and comes to others through us? Do we know that we are instruments of God’s grace to those around us?

Do we really know it? It is when life lives in us and death dies in us that we live out the Easter message. And that is easier said than done, because we are not very different from the disciples. We hear about God’s grace and think that it could not possibly be for us. We need to come away from this gospel knowing that God is always with us, really knowing and understanding it. We need to come away knowing that by God’s grace we are the way by which the Christian faith makes its claims. We are the truth about the Christian life. Our lives are the lives through which the Christian faith is judged. All of that is accessible to us through the free gift of God’s grace at work in our lives.

Why is it so difficult for us to accept God’s grace? That is what makes us fully alive in Christ. That is the heart of the gospel message. But how do we live out and apply that message in our lives?

The disciples faced the same dilemma. Philip said to Jesus, “Show us God and we will be satisfied.” I hear people saying exactly the same thing. They say it to me all the time. They say it out of their grief and sadness and despair. It is one of those if only … statements that we so often utter throughout our lives. “If only I could see God, then I would understand. If only God would give me a clear message! If only God had been there when …”

And Jesus had an answer for Philip as he has an answer for us. “Believe me for the sake of the works themselves.” And surely it is not enough to be shown. We cannot be satisfied with seeing God, with simply participating in a worshipping community. It is our action in the world that really matters. It is who we are in God. That is the ultimate test of the Christian faith. The world will know and understand the Christian message through our actions.

It is not what we say as Christians; it is what do, how we live our lives that brings us and those around us closer to God. It is the simple actions of a caring community that take place every day. It is the visit to a shut in, a kindly word, a note to someone going through a difficult time, a smile. Those are the actions that say we care.

That is exactly what Jesus said to the disciples. “Greater works than these you will do.” He does not expect them to perform astounding miracles. He expects that they will have a wider influence in proclaiming God’s word than he could even imagine. They will reach far beyond the area where Jesus’ ministry took place.

That expectation still holds true in the Christian Church in Meadowvale in 2008. We continue the mandate to do greater things. It is not enough to come to church to worship. We need to reach out to others with the message of the Gospel. In our daily lives we need to be the Church in the world. We come to church for spiritual nourishment and we reach out into a world that needs to share in the glory of the resurrection through our ministry. Our challenge is to receive the word of God and to pass in on so that the gospel message becomes the greater work we are called to perform. The challenge is to trust in God’s grace to enable us to live out our faith. Amen.

The Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A

Living Under the Blessing

Readings: Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers,” the writer of the Acts of the Apostles writes. It is a passage that typifies life in the early church with its exuberant mood, and spiritual vitality. These are people who applied their faith to their everyday lives. They were convinced that they were equipped with the Holy Spirit. They set about in their daily lives to live it out.

Not that it was an easy task! We need to remember that this was a persecuted church. Peter’s letter is obviously written to people under siege. “If you endure when you do right and suffer for it,” he writes, “you have God’s approval.” He is speaking to some early converts, servants, slaves in local households who have converted to Christianity. He is not saying that suffering is right. He is not saying that it is necessary. He is attempting to bring meaning to the persecution that they are going through. He relates their suffering to that of Jesus. They are suffering for their faith.

Henry Nouwen, a Roman Catholic priest who worked in the l’Arche community in Richmond Hill until his all too early death, writes in his book, Out of Solitude, "Many people don't think they are loved, or held safe, and so when suffering comes they see it as an affirmation of their worthlessness. The great question of ministry and the spiritual life is to learn to live our brokenness under the blessing and not the curse."

Those early Christians had learned to live under the blessing. They have given us a wonderful grounding for the faith. From that first community has emerged a world wide Church that has survived centuries of persecution. It survived and prospered because of the commitment that people made to one another and to the Risen Christ! What is more, it is a church that grew exponentially. Last week we heard that on hearing Peter’s sermon three thousand converts were baptized.

There is good reason for the growth that was experienced in the early Church. It is not rocket science. It grew and spread because those who believed prayed. They spent time together in the temple praying. And more than that, they put their prayer into action. They remembered God with grateful hearts. They shared what they had with others so that no one went without. They gave praise to God. Theirs was a radical spirituality that transformed not only their lives, but the lives of those around them.

Society mistrusts such people. We find labels for them, labels such as “hippie” or “communist”. But the label we should have for them is “Christian”, and it should be the label we strive for in our daily lives.

“Will you devote yourself to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers?” Bishop Colin asked that of eight members of our congregation last week as they were confirmed or reaffirmed their faith. He asked it of all of us who witnessed their commitment. It is asked of each of us every time there is a baptism in our church. It is part of our baptismal Covenant.

We have the same call as those early Christians. But many are not hearing that call. It is a blueprint for the modern church, an ideal, a vision. If we were following it, we would be a growing church. We need to ask ourselves why we are not growing exponentially.

This Sunday focuses on Jesus, the Good Shepherd. It is a wonderful image of our loving God. It is one that so many of us get wrapped up in. Even though we are far from our agrarian roots, it still speaks words of comfort to us through all the chaos and confusion of living in what seems to be an increasingly violent and troubling era.

Is that the message we are intended to hear? Should we be hearing it more as a wakeup call? Consider! The shepherd is the protector, a wall of strength and security for the sheep. Jesus as shepherd says that he is the gatekeeper, the one who provides access to God. How badly humanity needs those who can open the way against the gigantic burdens of inhumanity! The image of shepherd is one that demonstrates that God includes all those in society who are without power, the little ones, the lowly, the no account, the expendable, the least, the uncared for – these are all children of God. These are the ones that need access.

The question remains, do we let them in? Our view of a gate is something that limits access. Jesus is not the gatekeeper at a toll booth that we have to pass under in scrutiny. We do not have to have enough money or the right address or be wearing the right clothing. We simply have to come with open hearts and minds. We have to open ourselves up to the workings of the Holy Spirit. We have to make a commitment to pray and to act and to be open to God’s Spirit. We need a radical spirituality that transforms our lives.

How do we live out our brokenness under the blessing and not under the curse? It is something that I ask of myself all the time. It is something that I have been painfully aware of these last few days. It is not always easy to live in this ecumenical setting. Our shared mission and ministry is so easily forgotten. What should be a lively sharing of faith, an opportunity for prayer, a supporting of the mission of the church, becomes a scene of mistrust. We put up walls and barriers.

The current situation is not something that needs to become a burden to members of this congregation. You do need to know that it stems from the financial problems of the Lutheran congregation. It requires the active prayer of all of us. If we are to grow within this place, there needs to be amongst all of the congregations a sense of peace and unity. We need to have, not only our own vision, but a shared vision of what this community of faith could accomplish. It is on my heart right now that we need to pray for God to be at work in this place. We have not done that enough. We have been too concerned with our own survival.

My challenge to everyone in our parish is to put prayer into action. Pray every day for St. Francis and for the other two churches in our building. Pray for a spirit of reconciliation and unity. But also do something about it. Get to know someone from one of the other churches. Invite them to our coffee hour, not with any idea that they should become an Anglican. They are already people of faith. Simply invite them so that we can get to know them. Drop in on their coffee hour. This is about healing rifts. That needs to happen. This is a wonderful congregation that should be a dynamic and living entity in this community. Yet too much of our energy goes into survival. The Spirit can change that. Let us live under the blessing! Amen

The Third Sunday of Easter, Year A

On the Road Again

Readings: Acts 2:14a, 36-41; Psalm 116: 10-17; 1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35

On Easter evening, two of Jesus’ disciples were returning from Jerusalem to their village of Emmaus. It was a journey of seven miles, but with the terrible events of the last few days it seemed much further. The death of Jesus had plunged them into an impenetrable gloom. Their dreams about him being the long-awaited Messiah had been reduced to rubble. As they walked along they talked about his death. They went over it again and again. Looking at it from every possible angle, they still could not make sense of all that had happened. Especially they could not make sense of the rumours that had started to circulate, rumours about an empty tomb, about resurrection appearances.

Then a stranger joined them on their journey. And they found themselves opening up to this man, pouring out their grief to him. How easy it is sometimes to open up to someone you have never met before! They spoke about their deep longing for the Messiah, and the hope that had been stirred up in them when they met Jesus. They recounted the events which had shattered their illusions. “Some of the women even claim to have seen him alive!” they told him.

And then the stranger opened up the Scriptures to them. As they listened, they began to understand. It all began to fall into place for them. They arrived home, and offered the stranger hospitality. He accepted. They hustled around, putting food on the table and making the man welcome.

And then the journey to Emmaus ended unexpectedly, abruptly. Jesus, still a stranger to Mary and Cleopas, sat at table with them. He took bread, blessed it, and broke it. He offered it to them. In the gathering darkness of that first Easter evening, the flash of recognition came. How can you walk with someone you know and love for seven miles without realizing who it is? Yet it was not until he offered them bread that their eyes were opened. It was in the breaking of bread in all of its familiarity, that they were able to see with eyes of faith. And then just as quickly he was gone from their sight.

He was gone, but in that flash of recognition everything changed. They looked back on the experience remembering how their hearts had burned within them. And that encounter with the risen Christ moved them to action. They went back to Jerusalem as fast as they could travel. The seven miles seemed nothing. When they got there, they found the disciples. They shared the story of what had happened on the road and how they had recognized the risen Christ in the breaking of bread. And Mary and Cleopas on the road to Emmaus met Jesus on the road to God.

At Clericus earlier this week we were talking about this passage of Scripture. We were sharing our resonating stories. One of the clergy recounted his trip to the Middle East. He spoke no Arabic. The taxi driver who drove him from the airport to his hotel spoke very little English. The driver noticed his cross and showed him a tattoo on his arm. He explained in his broken English that the tattoo was their way, in a Muslim world, of showing that they were Christians. The priest asked the driver where he could go to church the following day. He could not get the man to understand. Finally he made the gesture of holding the bread and breaking it. There was an immediate recognition of what the priest wanted to know. The taxi driver arranged to take him to church on Sunday morning.

Like the disciples, we too may be on an Emmaus road. We may be going down a path that is sad and lonely. We may see Jesus as little more than a shadowy figure living in the musty pages of a Bible we scarcely open. When we do open it, it may be difficult to find any meaning in what we read. How can we feel his presence at our side? How can we come to know Jesus in a personal way? How can we come to understand that it is the Resurrected Christ in whose presence we live?

Jesus was made known to them through Scripture and Sacrament. And is that not how we come to know Jesus? As Anglicans the breaking of the bread speaks to us from the depths of our being. Sunday by Sunday we are invited to the table. We are invited to share in the family meal. Bread is broken and distributed. The cup is passed. Through word and sacrament we are brought into the presence of Christ.

For the disciples on the Emmaus road, it was their image of Christ that was faulty. They might have recognized Jesus, but the risen Christ was different somehow. They needed to see him with eyes of faith. It was in the breaking of bread that they were able to see.

How do we recognize a friend? Is it not their eccentricities, their unique qualities that enable us to recognize them even at a distance? Don’t you have a friend that you recognize before that person even enters the room? A footstep, an accent, the way the friend rings the doorbell? Or by the generosity of a gift that is the perfect gift? It can only be from … Or by some personal quality?

Do we recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread? Do we know his presence with us as we celebrate Eucharist? We acclaim it. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. We affirm it in the creed. “We believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” But the real test is whether or not it makes a difference in our lives. Christ continues to speak to the Church through the Eucharist, through the Scriptures, and through our relationships with one another. We come together in worship. We share the body of Christ. And then we are sent out.

The rest is up to us. How do we share what has happened on our road to Emmaus? We all have a story to tell, but so many of us are silent. Like the disciples we need to make the choice to return to the city. We need to join the community of faith through which we are graced. We leave the Eucharistic liturgy in order to spread the good news and to break the bread of life with others. Only if this is done can Christ be recognized in the Christian community today.

So often we do not share because we are afraid that we will not know what to say. It does not take words; it takes actions. It takes relationships. We have seen the risen Christ! He is at work in our lives! Let us share that good news with a broken world that so badly needs to come into relationship with a loving God.

The Second Sunday of Easter, Year A

Believing May We See

Readings: Acts 2:14a &22-32; Psalm; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

We are an Easter people. We are called to faith in the Resurrection. But let’s face it! For many people it is a real stretch. As children we did not find it difficult to believe in all sorts of things. We believed in Santa Claus and Tinker Bell and the Tooth Fairy. But as we grew to adulthood we suspended such foolish ideas. We stopped believing in anything that could not be proven factually. And we became the poorer for it. So how do we reverse those feelings that only what can be proven can be believed? How do we come to faith in the Resurrection? How do we come to know God’s amazing grace?

Last week we read the eye witness accounts of Peter, John and Mary. We saw how each came to faith in his or her own way. John, the Beloved Disciple, saw and believed. Peter saw, but could not figure out just what it was he was witness to. Mary recognized Jesus when he called her by name. She could hardly wait to tell everyone the good news. In each of these faith journeys we can see our own struggle, our own grappling with things we must see and comprehend with eyes of faith, with how we come to faith.

This week there are two further eye witness accounts. The story begins on the evening of the first day of the week. The disciples except for Thomas are gathered together behind locked doors. Confusion reigns. They have heard conflicting stories. No one knows quite what to believe. Then Jesus is there in the midst of them. “Peace be with you!” he says. It is a familiar invitation, his personal way of being present to them, of being in relationship with them. Then he commissions them, consecrating them to continue his mission. He breathes his life-giving Spirit into them.

Imagine their excitement! Like Mary as she heard her name, they can hardly wait to share their good news. When Thomas arrives they pounce on him. “We have seen the Lord!” And so they must have been taken off guard when Thomas responded with anger and vehemence, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

Yet really, why would they be surprised? How can he just blindly believe after all that has happened? They would not have been able to had they not seen Jesus with their own eyes. A short time ago, he would willingly have died with Jesus. But since that terrible event they had all been lying low. All that they had hoped for had come crashing down. And here his friends were trying to raise his hopes once more. How could he accept what they were saying only to have his hopes dashed? It was too much to ask. He felt betrayed, hurt. He simply could no longer take the risk of hoping.

Many of us are like Thomas. We can no longer risk believing simply to have our hopes dashed. Perhaps we have been hurt by life. How can we go on hoping when we see the violence and destruction that goes on in our world? What kind of a God allows such things to continue? If there really is a God why doesn’t God simply stop terrible tragedies from happening? What kind of a God allows little children to go hungry? What kind of a God allows suffering?

Or perhaps we feel let down by the Church. It has not always been the safe refuge that it should be. The place that should be the healer has often been the abuser. We go to church expecting to find a loving and caring community. Instead we find people bickering and arguing. We find cliques that won’t let us in. We simply cannot see Christ in those we meet. We come expecting to be affirmed and find no place for our talents. We feel unwelcome. It is no longer the church it used to be. There are new liturgies and ways of doing things. We cannot cope with the changes that we see.

Or we may have been let down by our profession. It is not difficult to find people who are struggling to face the pressures which come with economic down sizing and high prices. We begin to feel out of control, useless. How can we keep the faith when nothing is going the way it should? Doesn’t being a Christian count for anything? What is the point of having faith if it does not help to solve the problems of everyday life?

Yes! We have all met Thomas. We may meet him each time we look in the mirror. Like Thomas we need to see in order to believe. What can bring us to faith?

Aristotle said about faith, “That which is probable and impossible is better to believe than that which is possible and improbable.” It speaks to me about our resurrection faith, about our journey to faith, because somewhere along the line we have to come to terms with what we believe.

It may have something to do with the process that Thomas went through, for his story took a real turn. When he was confronted by the risen Lord, he saw. He no longer needed to be able to touch. In seeing, he could believe. Indeed, he makes one of the most transforming statements in the whole of Scripture. He declares, “My Lord and my God.” He recognizes the risen Saviour. He believes the impossible.

When we think of faith we think often in terms of seeing some miracle that allows us to really believe. “If only God would show me in some tangible way, then I would be certain.” We want certainty. We want to be one hundred percent sure. But that is the Thomas’ approach. He needed a miracle. But the real miracle is faith itself.

One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee to the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, "Jump! I'll catch you." He knew the boy had to jump to save his life. All the boy could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. As you can imagine, he was afraid to leave the roof. His father kept yelling, "Jump! I will catch you."

"Daddy, I can't see you,” the little boy cried out.

His father replied, "But I can see you and that's all that matters."

There are miracles around us if we care to look. We are witnesses to the resurrection. It happens daily in our lives. Like the little boy on the roof we are afraid because we cannot see through our fears and doubts. We cry out, “God, I can’t see you.” God answers, “But I can see you, and that is all that matters.” That is when God is there ready to catch us. The Christian faith enables us to face life or meet death, not because we can see, but with the certainty that we are seen; not that we know all the answers, but that we are known.

It begins when we really believe, when we stop talking about God and start really depending on God’s sustaining grace and love. We may not feel anything very significant. We may not see miracles taking place before our eyes. But we will get to the place where we are in touch with divine power, the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. It is that power that will make a difference in our lives. Believing, may we see!owHH