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Locked up.
Locked down.
Locked in.
That’s what the disciples were. Behind closed doors. For FEAR.
Last week was the joyous celebration (at least for us) of the Resurrection. Jesus is not dead or in the tomb. He is alive! And in the gospel according to John, he appears to Mary in the garden, telling her to go and tell the disciples that he was ascending “to my Father (Abba) and your Abba, my God and your God.” We assume she does just that. But this “good news” is not greeted with jubilation. It only seems to produce fear and the whole cohort of them HIDE.
Have you ever experienced fear like that?
Fear that makes you pull into your shell like a turtle?
Fear that makes you shut down?
I can remember one such time in my own life when I was a teen-ager and visiting some of my cousins. We were playing in the lake near their summer place. Horsing around like teenagers do— playing with a raft that we had tipped over. We were taking turns diving down and coming up in the space under the raft where there was trapped air. It came my turn and I dived down and came up under the raft with my cousin David. All of a sudden my brother and my cousin Chris decided it would be fun to jump onto the raft, and that jolt forced the air out of the space where we were, as well as making us crouch.
I panicked and all I could think of was to try to push the raft up, but from my position I couldn’t get any leverage, and I was starting to run out of breath. FEAR coursed through me, and my brain wasn’t working right. I kept trying to push up. Fortunately I did catch a glimpse of my cousin David as he dove down towards the bottom, getting out under the now sunken raft. I quickly followed suit. But the experience is still fresh in my mind.
Locked up.
Locked down.
Locked in.
It is something that happens to us as humans. Sometimes of our own making. Sometimes perpetrated by others. It was probably both for the disciples.
Mary had brought back this incredible news—that she had seen Jesus. That he was alive! Now after all that he had told them—that could have propelled them out into the world with the great news.
It did not.
They huddled together somewhere out of sight.
Somewhere locked.
For fear.
The gospel says “of the Jews,” meaning those of their own religion who saw Jesus as a threat. But I suspect the fear wasn’t just of others—it was, as we talked about last week, of resurrection – of what that event might mean for them and their lives.
Fear is a paralyzing force. It numbs our brains. It put us into a fight or flight response. It reduces us to our basest impulses—what some have called the “reptilian brain.” In this state we do not make our best decisions. In this state we are not much good to anyone, even ourselves.
So in John we get to the same question we asked at the end of the gospel of Mark—What now? How did the disciples get from gathering in fear to telling the whole world the news, regardless of the consequences?
In the gospel of John, we get a two-part answer.
PEACE and the Holy Spirit.
Jesus appears in the midst of them and says “Peace be with you.” And we might hear echoing in our memories the words Jesus said to his disciples (in John’s version of the Last Supper), “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)
Peace, that deep abiding sense that “everything is going to be ok” no matter what, certainly is an antidote to fear. Peace, if it comes over you, erases all other feelings. Peace is what we crave, desire, wish for.
But peace is something that can only be “given.”
It can’t be commanded.
It can’t be bought.
It can’t be ordered around.
“Peace be with you” says Jesus. We remind ourselves of this every Sunday as we say “Peace be with you. And also with you.” God knows, we all need it!
But just saying the words doesn’t make it true in our world or in our own hearts. Fear is a very powerful emotion. Peace needs to be given. And so, since Jesus knew he would not always be there to calm the waters, to explain the complexities of life, to urge the disciples on—out of locked rooms—there needed to be something other than words.
And that something is the Holy Spirit, which in the gospel of John is given here (Pentecost come a little early). The first time they see Jesus, he breathes on them and gives them the “Advocate” he has promised (at the Last Supper)—“I have said these things to you while I am with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all I have said to you. (John 14:25-26) Peace I leave with you …”
We all know that this moment, this new breath of life, this unleashing of the Holy Spirit, does not make super-disciples of our motley band. Read (or reread) the last chapter of John (chapter 21). They still have trouble recognizing Jesus. They still don’t quite get what Jesus is trying to say. They still have petty emotions like jealousy. But they have resumed living.
The Spirit of God was in the beginning hovering over the waters. The Spirit of God overshadowed Mary, creating Incarnation—God with us. And now, the Spirit of God rests with the disciples and us, blowing the flames of peace in our hearts. Reminding us of all that Jesus has told us.
Seasons of the Spirit, in retelling the scripture lesson, ends with a wonderful image of the disciples afterwards, supposedly told by someone who was there. He or she reports:
“And you know, afterwards, after Jesus just wasn’t there again, there wasn’t much talk. Martha sat on the floor with her eyes closed smiling. I watched Nathanael weep. And Thomas just went around unlocking all the windows and doors and opening them wide.”
There is no need to lock ourselves away.
No need for fear.
We are God’s community.
We have been given God’s peace.
We are surrounded by God’s Spirit.
And we have work to do.
May it be so.
Alleluia. Amen.
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