It is in scars that we know God’s love and are God’s love.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Easter, year C
Text: John 20:19-31

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Thomas understood all along.

And all he asked for was what his friends already received.

Did you notice? Easter night, when Thomas was gone, Jesus spoke peace to the women and men in the Upper Room. And he showed them his scars, the marks of his wounds. Of course Thomas would want that, too.

Now, Jesus said to Thomas, but also to us, that we are blessed if we come to trust him without seeing as Thomas and the others saw.

But Thomas was right. Even we need to see those scars, somehow. In those beautiful marks made by wounds on the body of the Son of God, we definitively know God’s love. The scars tell you everything.

It’s more than simply confirming it’s Jesus, for them and for us.

Jesus’ scars are the indelible marks of God’s love, God’s willingness to be wounded, killed, to embrace you and all and the whole creation. A wounded God knows the power of love, and rejects the love of power. And that God is the God who loves you and holds you. So when Thomas saw the scarred Jesus, he said, “My Lord and my God.” The scars revealed God to him.

Jesus’ scars also permanently remind you and me and all who follow what love is, what our call is. So many Christians have used the faith to gain power or domination over others. You can’t if you always remember you follow a scarred God who was wounded and killed to show true love. Christ’s scars keep us honest about the point of Christian faith and the path of Christly love we’re called to walk.

These scars also tell you something about your own woundedness.

And we’re not comfortable with our own scars. They remind of past pain we don’t enjoy reliving. Scars on your heart from inner wounds or brokenness, or scars on your body from physical infliction, are signs of past suffering, of frailty and mortality, not something we want to advertise, in case people think less of us.

We can also simply be embarrassed by our scars. Scars inside and outside make you seem different from others. It’s uncomfortable to feel different.

So we unfortunately tend to hide our scars, physical or spiritual. But if you learned to embrace your scars that’s not only a healthy way for you. It could also teach you empathy for others. And your scars might even be a sign to others of hope.

That’s what Jesus’ scars tell you.

You know you can trust God because Jesus’ scars show God is willing to be wounded for your sake and for all and for the world. But your scars and the scars of others also help lead to trust. If those wounds, and the scars left behind, aren’t hidden but embraced, aren’t a source of embarrassment but a source of empathy, scarred people are signs of healing.

It’s a reversal of the common wisdom. We know that those who are harmed in life often harm others in turn. “Hurt people hurt people,” we say. And that’s often true. But it’s also true that hurt people can find healing and empathy and, embracing their hurt, their wounds, their scars, become great healers, people of love and grace.

So if your scars, and the wounds that caused them, can draw you into the heart of love for others, as God’s scars draw you into the heart of God’s love, you will be a blessing in this world. Likewise, if you’re looking for someone who can help you, love you, guide you to healing, look for their scars.

Seeing others’ scars will comfort you – you’ll know you’re not alone.

When you meet someone who can understand your pain because they’ve gone through pain themselves it’s a blessing. Everyone’s suffering is different, but if they’ve been wounded, too, they can be a great comfort to you.

Because you know you’re not alone. When you look into another person’s eyes and see acceptance, love, even sorrow and empathetic tears, you know that there is someone, this one, who has known pain. You’re not the only one. By embracing their scars, they are God’s love to you.

And you could be that comfort to others, if you embrace and learn from your scars.

Seeing others’ scars also gives hope – healing is possible.

When you see someone who loves you and walks with you who not only has been wounded themselves but has the scars to show for it, you can find hope. If they’ve found healing on their path, healing is possible for you. Whenever it happens, however long it takes – it’s always different for everyone.

And if you don’t hide yours you could be that hope to others.

Thomas was right. The beautiful scars of the risen Christ were the sign that God could be trusted.

That even death can’t stop a love willing to lose everything for the sake of another.

Because of those scars, disciples actually became believers, people who trusted that they were still loved completely by God, and that this path of love they’d been trying to follow was still a path of hope and healing for them and for all. That’s why they went out living and proclaiming this love and got wounded, even killed, to share this love and grace of God. They bore their scars and became as beautiful to others as the risen Christ was to them.

Blessed are those who can trust without seeing. That’s true. But we all could use a little of what Thomas wanted. So look for God’s scars and trust they are life for you. Look for the scars in others if you’re looking for someone who can help you in your healing and hope. And let your scars, and the wounds that caused them, lead you to be the empathy, hope, comfort, and healing that those you meet will need.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Our hope in Christ’s resurrection is for this life, too – and brings healing and hope and life to our existence here.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Resurrection of Our Lord, year C
Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; Luke 24:1-12

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

This the day for hope.

Today we rejoice, we remember, we proclaim, we sing that Christ is risen and death is reversed. Which means all whom we love who have died, all those precious to us who are no longer here, are alive now in Christ. Our grief and sadness is answered today with hope: death is not the final answer. Death, as Paul says today, the last enemy, has been destroyed.

But what if we’re missing something about today? About this resurrection?

Listen to Paul again:

He said to his Corinthian people, “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” He’s trying to convince them of what we hold dear, that because Christ is risen, they’ll live after they die, too. He wants them to know their hope isn’t just for this life in Christ.

Do you see the difference? Our central hope today, that we have life after death in Jesus’ resurrection, is news to Christians in Corinth a full 20 years after the resurrection itself. And not just in Corinth. Paul’s Thessalonians also need to be taught this hope.

So Paul went throughout Asia Minor and Greece proclaiming the cross and resurrection of Christ, establishing congregations all over the region that lived vital lives of faith and hope, but wasn’t clear with them about life after death.

So where did they find hope at first? What gave life to their faith? Why did people even join?

The men in dazzling clothes said to Mary and the other women this morning, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”

That’s a huge question. The Church has put so much of its proclamation and hope on life after death it’s one of the chief things people criticize about Christianity, especially people who see the damage and hurt Christians have caused. They say that all we care about is getting people to heaven, all we promise is life after death, and nothing else matters. And for centuries it’s been a fair critique. Far too much of our energy has focused solely on life after death: how do you get it? By living a good life? By God’s grace only?

It’s as if we’ve been looking for the living among the dead, saying this was the main thing about today. The early believers got there eventually, but it seems it took them some years to find that hope as well.

So what about Christ’s resurrection changed everything for them? What did they find when they looked for the living Christ among the living, in their life in this world?

Look at those first women and men.

They followed Jesus in his ministry because of his teaching, because he embodied God’s love for them. His welcome, his proclamation of God’s grace and forgiveness, drew them in. His call to living in God’s reign gave them hope. Many dropped everything to follow him. And he almost never talked about life after death.

They found life in Christ here, in their lives, following Jesus. They lived in hard times, too, with oppressive powers ruling and dominating and harming. They had little control over the world, and they saw and knew lots of suffering and pain. But each heard something in Jesus, saw something in Jesus, found something in Jesus, that gave them hope.

Hope that living in God’s love and grace and welcome was a life worth living, even in all the trials of the world. Hope that they, too, could share in God’s Spirit. Hope that love had a strength that could overcome the world. That even enemies would stop being enemies, that forgiveness and restoration was possible. They realized they were part of God’s reign, so they had meaning and purpose in their lives. They could extend God’s welcome, be God’s love for others, as they’d received it. And it would change them. And change others.

So when Jesus was killed, so was their hope.

If the one who said love could change their lives and the world was killed, if his way of rejecting power and violence got him killed, maybe he was wrong. Maybe the powers of the world really are in charge. Maybe there’s nothing to be done. Best keep your head down, lock yourself away at night for protection, and try to stay safe.

But with Jesus alive again, do you see what that meant? The whole life he proclaimed, the love he called them to live, all of it, was validated. They saw that nothing could stop the reign of God, not even evil and violence and wickedness. Not even death. And they found hope again.

Hope is such a powerful thing.

All Jesus’ teachings now made sense again. All that they followed, all they were learning, all that they practiced and sometimes struggled to do, all of it was now theirs again.

And they went out, joined by others like Paul, and proclaimed this reign of God again with their lives. A life in the Spirit of God that transformed them. A life of love for the least and the marginalized, a life of grace and healing one person at a time, a way of love that loses itself for others and so finds everything.

And everywhere they went, people joined in. And their lives were also changed. They too found hope, no matter the circumstances.

We should reverse Paul’s words today.

If we say it this way, we’ll see the truth: “If for the next life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.”

Because there’s so much more for you today than just life after death. This is the day of Resurrection. Your resurrection. Mine. The Church’s resurrection. Today we remember that there is hope here. Hope, no matter the circumstances. Hope for the healing of this world.

Because Christ is alive, and death has no power even in this life, in this world. It’s time to look for the living Christ among the living. Christ is here. In you. In me. In the Church. And the love he taught and called you to live will make all the difference in your life. And even in the world.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

You are known and given life in this resurrection, life for this world, life in the next.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Great Vigil of Easter
Text: John 20:1-18

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

The voice said “Mary.”

And her world changed again.

Long ago, in the lost days of terror, she didn’t know who she was, couldn’t control her thoughts, wasn’t able to live or function. With so many voices in her head there was no room for her own voice. Then, when she first heard this voice, it called to the depths of her soul and found her. This voice sent away the other voices, brought her to life: that day was birthday.

In the devastating hours since Friday, Mary Magdalene was overwhelmed and lost, all over again. She wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore. The One who knew her, who was God’s love to her, was dead.

Then the voice said, “Mary.”

Listen: your heart is likely not far from Mary’s.

You long to be known for who you really are, and loved. We all do. We fear both might not be possible: if our truths were known how could we be loved? Competing voices inside and outside us devalue us, challenge us, confuse us.

Maybe there have been moments you’ve sensed God knows you, loves you. Maybe others have told you this, have been God’s loving presence to you.

But there are other times. Like these days, when the world is falling apart, thousands of lives destroyed and marginalized for the sake of a few in power. When you fear for your neighbors’ lives and even your own. When you wonder where God is, where hope is.

And there are times you face your own internal pain, fears, worries. When shame and failure embrace you, and seem more real than God to you. Dark nights of the soul when you doubt God could love you. When you know nothing except that you feel alone.

But you came here tonight, and waited in the darkness.

Maybe you don’t know why. But then, almost like a miracle, a fire leapt up, and a candle bore a light. And that one flame, one solitary candle, divided and divided and divided but in truth multiplied and multiplied and multiplied. And filled this room with a glow of hope.

And in that light you saw faces, the people of the risen Christ, who said to you, as they lighted your own candle, “The Light of Christ.” The faces of people who know you by name, love you. People who will soon greet you again with “Peace be with you.” In those faces, you saw the face of Christ. And you were no longer alone or in the dark.

And then you heard words of hope in God’s salvation from Scripture, ancient words of a glorious creation, a daring sea rescue, an astonishing protection of people in the heart of a fire. You were invited by God’s Wisdom to be filled to the brim with God’s love and grace and healing that is yours through the Spirit.

And you heard once again, with Mary, that God’s love cannot be stopped even by death. A voice familiar to you came through the locked doors of your heart, and, risen from the dead, now stands beside you at the gravestones of your life. Offers you food for life in this bread and wine. Christ’s voice calls you by name here. Knows you.

Jesus called her “Mary.”

That’s when she knew. So it is for you and me this holy night.

We face many hard things, and we fear most of them. But Christ has faced them all – suffering, betrayal, loneliness, sadness, abandonment, pain, death. And none of them have any power over the risen Christ, over the love of the God who breaks death, who calls you by name, who knows you, who loves you.

Listen . . . nothing, nothing, can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not this life, not death. Not your past. Not the present, not the future. Nothing.

So you don’t need to be afraid. This day is birthday for you, the day you come back to life.

And now all that remains is to be Mary. Go and tell others, and show them, by your love and grace and hope, that God’s life is still in this world and in them and in you. So they know they are known and loved by God always. And so this world can begin to be healed.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen