Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
April 19, 2009
Acts 4:32-35
John 20:19-29

For Thomas, a risen, resurrected, present Jesus was simply too good to be true. This possibility was beyond his grasp. This gift, his gratitude, the grace of it all, simply too much to comprehend. Afraid to get his hopes up, scared all this might be revealed as a cruel joke, Thomas has to see the risen Christ, in order to believe. To believe in the body of Christ, real, and in this world, he wants to be able to touch it. Feel the flesh. And while Thomas’ doubt has made quite a name for himself, I can’t blame him one bit.

I know Thomas’ instinct all too well. I’d rather be safe, than sorry. Before daring to hope, I’d rather know that a possibility is hope-worthy. Before putting all my eggs in one basket, I’d rather some certainty that the basket can hold the weight. Before letting go of my fears, I’d rather them to be confirmed as false. Before believing, I’d rather see…Does any of this resonate with any of you? These tendencies, of mine and of Thomas, they are forgivable (hear the good news, thanks be to God!), Perhaps even understandable. But, Jesus says and our scriptures echo, timidity and fear are not of faith. Cowering does not create the kindom of God.

Let us pray: Come, Holy Spirit, Come. Come as the fire and burn, come as the wind and cleanse, come as the dew and refresh, come as the light and reveal. Convict, convert, consecrate, until we are (w)hol(l)y thine.

Fear in the hearts of the faithful and not so faithful alike abound in the Easter story. Pilate’s fear. The crowd’s fear. The religious leaders’ fear of riots. Jesus’ fear, praying alone in the dark garden. Judas’ fear, and his kiss. Peter’s fear, denying his association three times. Mark’s gospel ends with women running from the empty tomb, terrified. Last week we saw Simon Peter, the beloved disciple, and Mary running toward the tomb, scared, and then two returning home, still in fear, and Mary, weeping. This morning, Thomas’ fear that it might not be so has him locked into stubborn disbelief. And yet Jesus’ response, over and over and over again remains steady: “Do not be afraid.” “Have no fear.” “Don’t be scared; Believe!” “Receive the Holy Spirit. You are forgiven. Forgive others.”

The good news of a living, loving God, the Holy Spirit, the breath of God calls us out of fear and into faith.

In spite of this, in this morning’s gospel story, the disciples’ fear has them huddled in a locked room. And, it seems they have every reason to be terrified. They have denied, betrayed, and deserted Jesus. And through their betrayal, they have seen him tortured, executed. They bowed to the corrupt, unjust powers of coercion and force, and now are left alone to face the very empire that crucified their Lord.

Clearly they don’t believe Mary Magdalene, who has already given testimony to the risen, resurrected Christ. They have heard the good news, but don’t believe it. Their fear is too great.

And then, Jesus comes to them, into the disciples’ locked room and fear filled hearts, to pass the peace. “Shalom,” he says. Peace be with you. And then, they know. And, Jesus breathes on them. Oh, this show of intimacy. Close, in the flesh. Ours in an incarnational faith. Think about how close you have to be to another body to feel their breath? And Jesus’ breath bestows the Holy Spirit. Ruah—Spirit. Ruah—Breath. It’s the same word, in Hebrew. Like God gathering dust and forming it into a human body and breathing into its nostrils, creating life in Genesis. Like God calling forth life in the valley of dry bones, breathing new life into corpses, in Ezekial. God breathes into our fear, breathes Spirit. Hope. Resurrected Life.

And, with this intimacy, this breath, the fear fades away. Resurrection occurs. Restoration happens. Renewal is made possible. In this morning’s story, at least, for those gathered. Thomas wasn’t there, to receive this breath, to feel the Spirit move. Who can blame poor Thomas for his reluctance to believe, for his doubt when he first hears the good news? He wasn’t there to feel Jesus’ breath on his own skin, to encounter the living Christ, flesh to flesh. He only wants to see what the others have seen before committing to belief. To see that it’s possible, with his own two eyes.

The questions and challenges facing Thomas and the disciples locked in their fear and the earliest Christian communities described in Acts are not unlike the questions and challenges facing us, United Methodists in Osage, Iowa, in 2009: How might we be faithful, as we reinterpret our tradition? How are we to live as people of faith, Easter people, people of the resurrection, when the going gets tough, when fear sets in, when loss cuts sharp? How, as the risen body of Christ, might be live by faith, believe in and embody God’s basileia? This is God’s Easter call, to God’s faithful followers.

The book of Acts is the sequel to Luke’s gospel. On this 2nd Sunday of Easter we are moving from the Jesus story to our story, from the narrative of Jesus to the narrative of the early church. The writer is seeking to inspire and build up the faith of the gathered community. And in this short bit of writing, we read about the resurrected reign of the living God, here on Earth, in our lives. Basileia, is the word found in the text. Basileia. We have translated it: Kingdom of God, Kindom of God, Reign of God, Beloved Community.

Think about your experience in this church, in any church, as you hear these words: “Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of Jesus, and great grace was upon them. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned land or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.”

Holding everything in common; giving passionate testimony; experiencing and acknowledging great grace; not a needy person among them; all of it distributed to each as any had need. Does this sound too good to be true? Do we need to see it, first, to believe it?

As we transition from Jesus Story to Church Story, we transition from hearing about the basileia proclaimed by Jesus, to the call to us to create it, here, now. No longer will Jesus the prophet and teacher be moving from house to house, traveling and teaching about basileia practice. Now it is us, the body of Christ, called to create it. Live into it. Believe in it. Practice it. Even when, especially when, we can’t see it already around us. As we sang in our opening hymn, “Break the bread of new creation where the world is still in pain. Walk with gladness in the morning. See what love can do and dare.”

In 1st century Palestine, basileia would first call to mind the Roman imperial system of domination and exploitation. Jesus spent his life and ministry preaching against this imperial system, preaching the basileia of God, not of Rome. Basileia. An alternative way of living, over and against empire. Basileia. No more victimization or domination. The kind of living, from all of us, modeled after the example of Jesus, our Christ. Relationships free of coercion or domination. Where power pours forth, not from coercion, but from caring and cultivating relationships.

In the 4th chapter of Acts, we glimpse what this basileia practice looks like, feels like. Sharing of all, for all, with all. No longer mine vs. yours. Us vs. them. In the basileia of God, there is only ours. And everyone, everyone, can be and is part of the us.
As Walter Wink has written, “Killing Jesus was like trying to destroy a dandelion seed-head by blowing on it. It was like shattering a sun into a million fragments of light.”

The call to create the Kingdom of God, once residing in Jesus our Christ, now resides within each and every one of us, Jesus’ followers. Like trying to destroy a dandelion seed-head by blowing on it. Like shattering a sun into a million fragments of light.

When we look around us, when we read the paper, turn on the news, listen to the radio, even catch up over coffee at Hardees or Kountry Kupboard—it can be difficult to see Basileia.

God’s creation, suffering from disease, sorrow, addiction? God’s creation, called illegal, because of birthplace? Ankle bracelets and children living without their parents and border patrol and concrete walls and higher fences? God’s creation, placed on death row, taking away God’s chance for redemption? State execution, the very practice that crucified our Savior? God’s creation, vilified by churches, called immoral, feared, denied, hated? Negating God’s claim of sacred worth in every human being? God’s creation, living and dying in war zones, tortured, terrorized, traumatized, communities and families torn apart by death and violence? Basileia invites hope, community, recovery, comfort. Basileia proclaims all are welcome, anywhere on God’s earth, citizen and sojourner alike. Basileia claims there is always hope for God’s redeeming grace to restore and reconcile. Basileia welcomes everyone to the table, delights in difference, sees Christ in the faces of those who are cast out and overlooked. Jesus announced basileia with “Shalom. Peace be upon you. Peace be with you. Peace be among you. Peace be within you.”

When we look around us, if we look around us, it is not always easy to see basilea. Remember, when the disciples looked around them, locked in a room for their fear, it wasn’t easy to see basileia, or believe in a risen Christ.

And yet. Over and over, Jesus proclaimed: “The Basileia of God is among you. Believe!” Do you see it? “Blessed,” says Jesus, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

God’s basileia, the body of Christ is here, among us.

Sally Hoelsher, a United Methodist in Iowa, wrote this poem after reading this week’s lectionary texts from the gospel of John and book of Acts.

“It sounds appealing.
Everyone getting along.
Each one having what he or she needs.
God’s light shining on all of us.

What a day that would be!
Working together to care for all of God’s children.
Even if we sometimes had to agree to disagree.
Accepting that God’s light appears in many forms.

It will never happen.
Not in my lifetime.
It is too big of a task.
There are too many obstacles.”

I am relating to Thomas.
Skeptical, unsure whether I can believe.
I want to see that the dream is possible.
Is that too much to ask?”

Sally was having a hard time believing, without seeing. So, she prayed. And read the scriptures again. And searched her fear, and remembered the promise made real in the resurrection. And, as an act of faith, she added a final stanza to the poem.

“Reading the scriptures again,
I begin to see
A vision of what could be.
Will you work together with me?”

Blessed is Sally, who is seeing and has come to believe. Blessed are you, when you come to believe. Blessed are we, when we come to believe. The Basileia of God is among us. We are the risen body of Christ. Each of us, a fragment of God’s love and light, ready to share and shine in the world.

May it be so. Amen.