Sermon for April 27, 2025
Easter 2 C
John 20:19-31
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
I remember the first time I went skiing. I was 14 years old; it was me and my brother. We rented our equipment at the ski shop. Our dad signed us up for skiing lessons, and having no interest in skiing himself, he went to find some place to relax. We had a whole hour before our lesson, so my brother and I figured we should give it a try once on our own. After all, we could see what the other skiers were doing as they came down the mountain. So, with a mixture of confidence, naiveté, and brotherly competition we believed we could do it, too.
We rode the ski lift, got to the trail head, and off we went! I immediately learned that a skill that looked effortless for some people was way harder than I realized. You might say I was “over my skis”, but in reality I spent most of that run bouncing down the slope on my rear-end! When I finally made it to the bottom, the first words out of my mouth were: “I will never do that again.” And if my dad hadn’t already paid for our upcoming lesson, I probably would have hung up my skis for good.
After what I had just experienced, seeing another skier ski was not going to be enough. I needed someone to come alongside me and give me a reason to believe that learning how to ski would be possible, and maybe even fun. I needed a teacher who would build my confidence so that I would not only understand, but also put into practice, the things he taught. Luckily, I emerged with just a few bumps and bruises after my initial misadventure on the ski slope, but I could have really been hurt. It put some fear into me, and it took me a while to overcome my wariness.
As we turn to the Gospel of John this morning, we see the disciples gathering in fear. Of course they were afraid because of the trauma they’d just been through—and they were hiding behind locked doors because of it. The memories were too fresh; just four days earlier there they were in the Garden of Gethsemane, when armed guards arrived to arrest Jesus. And who had betrayed him, but Judas, their close and trusted friend. And then came all that Jesus endured, leading to his death by crucifixion. Would they soon meet the same fate?
Trauma is a response felt in our bodies when our ways of making sense of our lives utterly collapse. It’s a deep harm that happens physically, or mentally, or emotionally, or spiritually—when you simply can’t believe what has just happened; you do not have adequate words to describe or understand it. And it feels difficult or impossible to integrate the painful experience you’ve been through into your understanding of yourself and the way the world works.
The experience of trauma is the place the disciples found themselves in on the evening of that first Easter Day. Yes, Peter and the Beloved Disciple had seen the Empty Tomb. Yes, Mary Magdalene had told them that she had seen the Lord. But at this point, these things did not make it any easier for them to make sense of what they were going through. They were traumatized! And they needed someone who would come alongside them, help them make some sense of it, help them learn to live with all they’d experienced and lost, so that eventually they could move forward and gain new life.
That “someone” was Jesus. Even though they kept themselves behind locked doors because of fear, Jesus appeared and stood among them. He showed them the wounds of his hands and side—the evidence of the trauma he himself had been through. And the first words out of his mouth were: “Peace be with you”. Words of healing, words of comfort, words that build people up in a caring community. The greeting of “Peace” may have come as a surprise; it certainly is not the way of the world, where pain and trauma is the motivation for revenge and inflicting pain in return. But Jesus—being risen; being the “first fruit” harvested from the future God is preparing for us—Jesus belongs both in our world (as we see from his wounded hands and side), and Jesus belongs in another world entirely (the world of God’s heavenly kingdom; a world which intersects with our own sometimes, but also operates according to God’s own mysterious logic).
And the way the risen Jesus brings together the two worlds he belongs to, is to meet human fear and trauma with his healing Peace; Peace given through the Holy Spirit, who empowers us to forgive. Jesus even tells the disciples (and by extension, us), “as the Father has sent me, even so I send you.” With the Holy Spirit flowing through them, the disciples become Apostles, sent to forgive sins—or more to the point, sent so God would forgive sins through them.
Jesus also sends them to “retain” sins. What in the world is that? Why would Jesus want them to “retain” anyone’s sins? This is not a stick to beat people over the head with to try and control them, but a warning—that sin is not only responsible for sending Jesus to the cross, but sin is an enemy that will destroy us if we do not seek to forgive and be forgiven. Sin will destroy us if we do not move towards healing for ourselves, our relationships, and the whole world. So “retaining sins” is a way to warn of their destructive power if we get stuck in holding onto them.
The disciples begin their journey towards healing, forgiveness, and salvation on the other side of their trauma, pain, and fear when Jesus stands beside them, shows them his wounds, and gives them his Peace. Christ has become the “wounded healer”. And this is one answer as to why he had to die on the cross (not the only answer, but one of them). Christ takes the deepest of human traumas, the sin of the world, upon himself in his crucifixion—and in being raised by his Father and the Holy Spirit, he promises that new life is possible on the other side. Not only is it possible, but it is joy beyond the telling, and it’s on its way—both for this earthly life, and in the world to come.
But we don’t all get to that new life at the same time, or come to believe it in by the same route, which is what “Doubting Thomas” shows us. We shouldn’t be too hard on Thomas; he wasn’t even in the room with his fellow disciples when Jesus first appeared to show his wounds and share his Peace with them. It’s no wonder Thomas has a totally different mindset.
As the gospel shows with one small detail, though, just one week later the other disciples have begun their journey to healing and new life; this time the door is not “locked” but merely “shut”. They are learning to put their fear behind them. They are starting to live by faith in the new reality that the risen Christ has made possible. Thomas isn’t able to join them on that journey until he finally has his own experience of Jesus coming alongside him, showing him the wounds, and inviting Thomas to trust the mystery of the living and risen Christ in his life.
That same mystery is what Jesus invites each of us to enter, by faith, as he offers us his Peace. Amen.