Sermon Text: Luke 24:36-48, 1 John 3:1-7
30 Apr 2006
As many of you know, my husband Dave is a professor at Georgia Tech. He's a teacher, but more than anything else he's an engineer and scientist -- he does a lot of research in engineering materials. I love engineers and scientists. They're different than I am. They think differently. So there's always something we can learn from each other.
Many people just assume that science and religion don't mix. That scientists don't believe in God. Nothing could be further from the truth -- scientists have a range of beliefs about God, just like teachers, or doctors, or any other professions. In fact there are folks in engineering and the sciences who are using scientific tools to try to prove the inerrancy of the biblical account of creation. You can find a number of these organizations on the internet.
Although it is all very interesting and I always learn something when I read their work, I've always wondered why they are into this. If you think you can prove the earth was created in 7 days, does that make God more real? If you can use computer modeling to simulate a catastrophic flood thousands of years ago, is God more trustworthy? If science can back up the resurrection, does that make Christ present among us? It has always seemed to me that such activities are trying to use science to help folks believe in God.
But belief is not so much a matter of knowing or proving a set of facts. Belief is trusting in God, who is more than we can see and touch. We don't -- and we can't -- know everything there is to know about God. But still we are to trust.
Henri Nouwen, one of my favorite Christian writers, tells a marvelous parable about the human limits of knowing. He imagines two twins -- a brother ands sister -- talking to each other in their mother's womb: The sister said to the brother, "I believe there is life after birth." Her brother protests vehemently. "No, no!" This is all there is. This is a dark and cozy place, and we have nothing else to do but cling to the cord that feeds us." The little girl insisted: "There must be something more than this dark place. There must be something else, a place with light where there is freedom to move." But still, she couldn't convince her twin.
After some silence, the sister said hesitantly, "I have something else to say, and I'm afraid you won't believe that, either, but I think there is a mother."
Her brother became furious. "A mother!" he shouted. "What are you talking about? I have never seen a mother, and neither have you. Who put that idea in your head? I already told you, this place is all we have. Why do you always want more? This is not such a bad place. We have all we need. Let's just be content."
The sister was quite overwhelmed by her brother's response and for a while, she didn't dare to say anything more. But she couldn't let go of her thoughts and since she only had her twin brother to speak to, she finally said, "Don't you feel these squeezes every once in a while? They're quite unpleasant and sometimes even painful."
"Yes," he answered. "What's special about that?"
"Well," said the sister, "I think these squeezes are there to get us ready for another place, much more beautiful than this, where we will see our mother face-to-face. Don't you think that's exciting?"
The brother turned away. He was fed up with this foolish talk of his sister and felt that the best thing to do would be to simply ignore her and hope that she would stop talking about it (Henri Nouwen, Our Greatest Gift: A Meditation on Dying & Caring, HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, p. 19-20).
Not everything we believe can be seen or touched. That doesn't make it less real.
In our reading today, the disciples however, needed to see and to touch in order to believe. They needed facts. They needed to be able to wrap their mind around their Risen Lord. But a Christian author named Kathleen Norris points out that faith is a matter not of the mind but of the heart. At its root, the word "to believe" simply means "to give one's heart to." Thus, she says, "if we can determine what it is we give our heart to, then we will know what it is we believe."
In today's gospel reading, the disciples were overwhelmed with confusion and fear and doubt. They thought if they just had some facts, they'd feel better. But their doubts were not because of a lack of facts. Their doubts were more of the heart variety than the mind variety.
These guys didn't need proof. They needed to give their hearts to Jesus Christ.
Our reading begins with "While they were talking about this" and what they were talking about was another resurrection appearance that had just taken place -- the appearance of the Risen Christ to Cleopas and his companion as they walked along the road to Emmaus. Some of you who've done Bible study are familiar with that story.
As these two walked along with Jesus on the road to Emmaus, they didn't realize who he was. The talked about everything together -- this Jesus of Nazareth, their hope that he was the Messiah, and the loss of hope when he was crucified. Jesus, as he walked and listened, knew it was a matter of heart for these two followers. "How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared," he said. And then he opened the scriptures to them.
But it wasn't until later that evening, after they had convinced him to stay with them for the night, it wasn't until he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them, that their eyes were opened. And they remembered. "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was opening the scriptures to us?"
So they returned to Jerusalem to share the good news with the 11. And Jesus shows up again. "Peace be with you." Shalom, be whole and complete. Not broken and fractured. Not torn apart with fear and confusion. Not tangled up in doubt.
This resurrection appearance is different than the experience at Emmaus. In the town of Emmaus, it was an act of worship -- sharing at the table with the bread and the wine -- that opened their eyes. Here, in Jerusalem, Jesus gets concrete. Here is proof, he says. Look at my hands and feet. Touch me and see. They wanted to see. They wanted to touch. Jesus let them. Encouraged them. But that's really not what they needed. That's really not what we need.
If we're looking for a DNA sample for proof of Jesus, ultimately even that will not be enough. What the disciples needed, and what we need is a matter of heart -- a matter of putting our faith and trust in the power of the risen Christ in our lives. Giving Jesus Christ our hearts.
That's what baptism is all about. That's one of the reasons why we disciples do not ask people to recite a creed, a set of facts, or beliefs when they are baptized. When you are baptized as a Christian in this church, we ask "Who is your Lord and savior? Have you given Jesus Christ your heart?"
But this matter of heart is not some individual, privatized, feel-good relationship each of us has with Jesus. Our first scripture reading reminds us that "We are children of God" -- all of us -- and that binds us together into the Body of Christ. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, said, "Christianity is essentially a social religion, and to turn it into a solitary religion is indeed to destroy it (Hannah Ward & Jennifer Wild, editors, Resources for Preaching & Worship, Year B, Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002, 125). We can't be lone rangers as Christians - and that may be very different the way we're used to living our lives.
By definition, to be a Christian is to be in community with each other. That's why Paul used the Body of Christ imagery. That's why I use that over and over. It's the community that has power - God's power - not our own - power to witness to the presence of Christ among us.
A story is told of a American writer of the last century, Thomas Pettepiece, who was in prison in a foreign country, along with thousands of other political prisoners. It was an Easter Sunday, and a couple dozen Christians wanted to take communion, but there was neither bread nor wine available. So this prisoner said, "We have no bread, nor wine, but we will act as though we had." The non-Christians said, "We will help you -- we will talk quietly so that you can meet." It was to be the communion of empty hands.
Thomas recalled that he held out my empty hand to the first person on my right, and placed it over his open hand, and the same with the others. "Take, eat, this is my body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of me."
Afterward, they all raised their hands to their mouths, receiving the body of Christ in silence. "Take, drink, this is the blood of Christ which was shed to seal the new covenant of God." They gave thanks sure that Christ was there with them, strengthening them. After giving thanks, they stood up and embraced each other. Awhile later, one of the prisoners, a non-Christian who had watched, said, "You people have something special, which I would like to have (Reuben P. Job, Norman Shawchuck, A Guide to Prayer, Nashville, TN: The Upper Room, 1983, 143)."
That something special -- it's hard to put your finger on it. Where was Christ in that prison cell? There was no bread. There was no cup. But Jesus was as real to those prisoners -- maybe more so -- as he was to his disciples when he said, "Look at my hands and feet. Touch me and see." Not everything we believe can be seen or touched.
What makes the Risen Christ real for each of us and all of us is a matter of heart. Have we given our hearts here to Jesus Christ? That's where we'll find the risen Christ. That's where we'll receive power that we can never have on our own. That's where we can hear and claim Jesus' word to us -- Peace be with you. Amen.
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