Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful people and kindle in them the fire of your love. AMEN.

The time was 7:51 a.m. – rush hour - on Friday, January 12th of this year; and the place was the L’Enfant Plaza Metro Station in Washington, D.C.  A young man wearing jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a Washington Nationals baseball cap began to play the violin.  His violin case was at his feet in front of him, to catch the money that those passing by on their way to work might throw his way.  He continued playing for about 45 minutes.  Most of the thousand or so people who walked by him during that time barely noticed the young violinist or paused to listen to the music he was playing.  A few (twenty-seven to be exact) threw some money into the case.  When he had finished playing, he had collected exactly thirty-two dollars and seventeen cents.  

You may have heard about this situation on the television news or read about it in the newspaper.  Because, the young man playing the violin at the Metro Stop in January was Joshua Bell, who last week received the Avery Fisher Prize as the best classical musician in America.  The violin he played was handcrafted in 1713 by Antonio Stradivari, and Bell bought it a few years ago for 3.5. million dollars.  And, the music in the Metro Stop concert was composed by the masters, Bach, Schubert, you get the picture.  You see, this little experiment was rigged by The Washington Post and all caught on videotape.  It was described as a “test of whether, in an incongruous context, ordinary people would recognize genius.”  And, the result was that they couldn’t.   

But, I wonder of it wasn’t also a test of how much routine can dull our appreciation of the beauty and wonder, the edginess and surprise, the incredible inspiration around us. 

At one point in my life, I took the Metro in Washington to work every day.  Taking my ticket out of my purse, walking through the turnstile, getting on my train while I read my newspaper, walking by the folks who were playing the violin or the saxophone or some other instrument for money (Joshua Bell isn’t the only musician playing for money around metro stations – you see them all the time), getting my blueberry muffin and cup of tea when I got off the train and heading to Capitol Hill - it was routine.  So routine that after awhile the Capitol Building which had absolutely taken my breath away the first time I saw it became, well, it became routine.  I didn’t really see it any more.  I didn’t see its beauty or remember all it stands for.  It just became a place to go to work.  And, I’m pretty certain that if I had walked past Joshua Bell playing Bach and Schubert on a $3.5 million violin on one of those mornings, I would have just kept walking.  That’s what routine does, I think.  It’s human nature.

Routine can do that with our reading of scripture, too.  I have to admit it - I can hear the words of scripture so often that I really don’t hear them anymore.  They become routine.  Perhaps it’s that way for you, too.       

When that happens I think we miss things that are pretty important.  Just like those commuters missed Joshua Bell, and I missed the Capitol Building. 

Today’s reading from the Gospel of John can be that way.   Is it possible for us to hear this very familiar reading in a new way?  Not like we’ve already heard it a hundred times (which we probably have), but like we are listening to it for the first time.  It’s a surprising and amazing story, and we don’t want to miss it.

The gospel lesson begins on the evening of Jesus’ resurrection.  Easter has happened.  And with news like that, we’d think that the next scene should open with flowers and banners, shouts of “Alleluia. Christ is Risen” and responses of “The Lord is Risen Indeed.  Alleuia,” and a rousing, brass-accompanied chorus of “Jesus Christ Is Risen Today.”

The scene in today’s gospel doesn’t begin like that at all.  Perhaps we only think that it should because we have heard this story so many times and we know the ending.  We know it all turns out okay…better than okay.  And sometimes, we can skip to that great ending and miss what comes in between.     

So, let’s go back and set the scene for today’s reading.  On Friday – just three days before, Jesus was crucified and died.  His body was taken by two men, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, to a tomb in a garden near Jerusalem.  There they cared for Jesus’ body, wrapping it with spices and linen, and left it there.

Very early on Sunday morning while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the garden where Jesus had been entombed.  Imagine going out alone in the dark to the tomb of someone who had just been executed by the Roman Empire – it had to be more than a little scary for more than one reason.  But, she went there anyway.  Maybe you know that incredible pull of wanting to be near the grave of someone you love who has died. 

But to her surprise, the stone that had covered the door to the tomb had been removed.  She ran to tell Peter and another disciple – the one we know only as “the one whom Jesus loved.”  The three rushed back to the tomb.  The male disciples found no body in the tomb, only the linen with which Jesus’ body had been wrapped.  Then they left the tomb and went back home, not knowing quite what to make of this unusual and disturbing scene. 

Crying perhaps because she was sad at the loss of her friend Jesus or perhaps because his body had been snatched away or perhaps because she was so utterly confused, Mary stayed at the tomb.  But then, after two angels asked her why she was crying and they had a conversation with her about the whereabouts of Jesus’ body, she saw Jesus, the one whom she had seen nailed to a cross only a few days before.  Oh, she didn’t recognize him at first, but when he spoke her name – Mary – she immediately knew that voice and called out to him “Teacher!”                           

Jesus told her to go to his brothers and tell them that he was ascending to God.  So, she went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.”

Then we have the beginning of today’s reading. 

…it was evening of that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear…

There it is…no flowers, banners, acclamations, or hymns.  Just a group of fearful disciples, huddled together behind locked doors.

Now, today’s text from the Fourth Gospel says that the disciples were locked away for fear of the Jews.  But, we might have some doubts that “the Jews” were exactly what the disciples were afraid of.  Heck, the disciples themselves were Jews!  This phrase “for fear of the Jews” probably tells us more about what was happening at the time the Gospel was written than about what was happening on the evening of the resurrection.  For by the time this text was written sixty or so years after the resurrection, there were tensions between the emerging Christian community and the Jewish synagogues of which many of them had been members.  Tensions that were so severe they would have set up this harsh division between Christians, the followers of The Way, and the Jews who did not believe that Jesus was the Messiah.

But, even if these frightened disciples weren’t locked away “for fear of the Jews,” they surely had some things to be afraid of.  

What if Mary Magdalene had been mistaken in her announcement about seeing the Lord and Jesus was not alive?  What if his body had been stolen as Mary suspected, and he was still dead?  Then, they must have felt abandoned, isolated, alone and afraid of the Jewish authorities who had been complicit in Jesus’ death.  Or, what about the Roman authorities?  They had executed Jesus because he was perceived to be a threat to the Empire.  Wouldn’t they be looking for his followers?  They would surely be considered dangerous to the Empire, too.  And, if they were considered dangerous to the Roman Empire, then they should be afraid.            

And, what if Mary was right and Jesus was alive, walking around and looking for them?  These were people who had pretty much all deserted Jesus as he faced the Roman authorities and the cross.  Peter had outright denied him, not once but three times.  Perhaps they were afraid of seeing this one who they had let down so miserably.  They might have expected that he would look at them with grave disappointment or even worse with anger and retribution for their cowardice and disloyalty.

But then Jesus appeared to them, and he said, “Peace be with you.”  Shalom.  He didn’t ask where they had been while he faced torture and death.  He didn’t look at Peter and say, “Why did you act like you didn’t even know me?”  He didn’t ask why other people, not his closest friends, had to prepare his body for burial.  And, he didn’t say to Peter and the one whom he loved, “Where were you?  Why did you go home, when you saw that my body was not in the tomb?  Why didn’t you wait for me with Mary?”

He didn’t look at them with disappointed eyes or speak with anger.

No, he said, “Peace be with you.”  And, this was no ordinary greeting.  It was the reassurance that they had absolutely nothing to fear from him or from anyone else.  This group would become the church.  Jesus knew that if they were to be the church, then they could not be afraid of anything.

And, then, Jesus gave his fledgling church a commission, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  Just as Jesus had become incarnate to show the world the Father, they were to show the world Jesus.  Jesus was ascending to his Father, and he was leaving them in world.  As he had been the total self-gift that made God known, now he was sending them out, to be to the world what he had been to the world.

But, Jesus knew all too well the frailty of the disciples.  He knew that they needed the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit if they were to carry out this commission. 

He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” 

It is almost a re-enactment of the creation scene in the second chapter of Genesis. 

And he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

Jesus breathing the Holy Spirit onto his disciples, those who will be the church, was the beginning of the new life of believers in the risen Lord.  Jesus gave the Holy Spirit to make his followers a community that would bring the peace and joy they received on the evening of the first day of the week from the risen Jesus to later generations of frightened disciples.

It is a surprising and amazing story, and we don’t want to miss it.  Jesus’ resurrection, the raising of a dead body back to life, began the miracle of Easter.   The coming of the risen Christ to those who had deserted and denied him - his coming with a message of peace, a commission for them to be to the world what he had been to the world, and the empowering gift of the Holy Spirit, that was certainly the continuation of the Easter miracle.  

Today, Jesus still raises his hand in benediction to his church, to those of us who are gathered here this morning, and blesses us, “Peace be with you.  You have nothing to fear from the world or from me.  As the Father has sent me, so I send you.  Be to the world what I have been to the world.  Show them who I am.  Receive the Holy Spirit, who will empower you to take the new life I have given and give it to others.”

Alleluia.  Christ is Risen!    
  

Back to sermons