Tell Out My Soul

Easter 3B: Luke 24:36b-48; St. Paul’s, Smithfield 4/15/2018

Jim Melnyk: “Tell Out My Soul”

The other day a friend of mine posted a question on Facebook.  “What movie traumatized you as a kid?”  There were a lot of expected answers:  The Exorcist, The Shining, Poltergeist, Jaws, It – even Bambi!  The list goes on and on.  I remember seeing an old black and white film as a child – Nosferatu, which was the original movie based on Bram Stoker’s book, Dracula.  I’m willing to bet we can all relate to such a question. 

Now, think about the stories of our faith – which story or stories traumatized you as a kid?  Even now as an adult?  The Binding of Isaac?  The Crucifixion? There are probably more than a few.  The Disciples probably could throw in a few stories – like a ghostly Jesus walking out to them on a stormy lake, or disappearing seemingly into thin air from an inn on the road to Emmaus, or popping in more than a couple of times when they all know they remembered to lock the door….

The disciples can be a puzzling bunch – and it probably bears repeating one more time.  It seems as though getting everyone on board with this whole resurrection thing is as difficult as finding hens teeth!  And understandably they’re as jumpy as a bunch of cats in a room full of rocking chairs!  Everyone knows they are followers of Jesus – and they can’t forget the turn that took place on Good Friday. 

Today’s lesson from Luke finds them all hanging out discussing with each other the report from Cleopas and his companion – possibly his wife – Luke has a tendency to not name women.   The two are sharing their experience of meeting the risen Christ while on the road to Emmaus – explaining how they didn’t recognize him, even though he spent the whole journey opening the Scriptures to them and explaining to them why it made sense that the Messiah would die.  They tell the other disciples about their stop for dinner – how they invited Jesus to join them for the meal – and how Jesus, taking bread, blessing it, had finally been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. 

Suddenly, in the midst of their discussion with Cleopas, in pops Jesus.  Just like that – scaring them out of their wits! Luke tells us the followers of Jesus are both “startled and terrified.”  Jesus’ “Peace be with you” just doesn’t cut it this time.  So he shows them his hands and feet and he invites their touch.  Still, even in their joy, the disciples struggle with disbelief – wondering how all this can be. 

And so Jesus asks them for something to eat, and enjoys a little broiled fish with them – demonstrating for them his full, physical presence.  My friend Rabbi Raachel Jurovics comments with a chuckle, “What a delicious touch to say, ‘Got anything to eat?’”  All of this is designed by Jesus to put their hearts at ease and show them that he is indeed living flesh and bones – for what kind of ghost can be touched or can share a meal?  The wonder of a physical resurrection of Jesus, then, is how it touches upon our own physical selves.  As Richard Rohr writes, "Christianity makes a daring and broad affirmation: God is redeeming matter and spirit, the whole of creation.”

And then once again Jesus gives them all a tutorial on Moses and the law, the prophets, and even the Psalms, giving us a sense that for followers of Jesus, “Easter [has become] the event through which Scripture is to be interpreted, and [that] the Resurrection must now be proclaimed to the world” (Synthesis CE, 4/15/2018).  And so upon hearing this teaching from the risen Christ, the disciples gathered will soon be sent out into the world to proclaim “repentance and forgiveness of sins” in the name of Jesus.  And once again there’s that whole thing about being sent out.  There just isn’t any way of escaping what Jesus expects from those who choose to follow in his name.

In only a matter of a weeks after this momentous encounter with the risen Christ, the disciples who spent the days immediately following the crucifixion hiding in fear, will find themselves boldly going where they never thought they would.  They will find themselves standing fearless before hostile crowds as followers of the One Whom Death Could Not Contain.

Author Robert Roth comments, “Resurrection isn’t…safe.... Resurrection calls us out into the world with Christ. We must feed the hungry [and] work for peace…. What happens [in this life] is of eternal significance – and it’s time to get to work as Easter people” (Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 4/15/2018). 

But that’s the challenge for us, isn’t it – to live as Easter people in a world that doesn’t always reflect the promise of new life?  How do we live as Easter people in a world where there are things like poison gas and Tomahawk cruise missiles – in a world where violence is all too often a first response?  How do we, as followers of the Prince of Peace, respond to acts of terror and acts of war – especially when calls to find peaceful solutions seem contrary to our desire for speedy action? How willing are we to speak truth to power if and when we see that power conflicting with the heart and soul of the gospel?  The truth is, following Jesus is costly – it isn’t safe.  Many of you may recall the words of Dorothy Day from our Lenten sessions on hazardous saints, “When I feed the hungry, they call me a saint.  When I ask why people are hungry, they call me a Communist.” (Note: Though attributed to Day, this quote may have actually first been said by Dom Helder Camara, Archbishop in Brazil.)

The disciples gathered together with Jesus on that first Easter evening were “startled and terrified” by his presence, thinking they were seeing a ghost.  But isn’t the call to live as Christ lived just as startling and terrifying when we consider what that means?  Isn’t it just as startling and terrifying to be called out into the world to preach repentance and forgiveness to those for whom repentance and forgiveness never even rate a second thought?  Aren’t we all too often willing to let some other person deal with that part of the gospel imperative and comfort ourselves with the lovely strains of “Jesus loves me, this I know…”? 

The call and the challenges inherent with the call are real – and can be terrifying at times.  And we don’t always succeed in our task.  As our patron saint reminds us, “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (Rom. 7:18b-19).   But recovering fundamentalist and author Philip Yancey puts it this way: “The Bible tells of flawed people – people just like me – who make shockingly bad choices and yet still find themselves pursued by God” (Philip Yancey, Vanishing Grace).  God doesn’t give up on our world, and God doesn’t give up on us, either. 

“Jesus comes among us in surprise, and we journey from fear to trust, from doubt to joy, from disbelief to power, from grief to witness” (Roger A. Paynter, Feasting on the Gospels: Luke, volume 2).

So, while we won’t necessarily find ourselves like Peter or Paul, brought before rulers to profess the faith of Christ crucified and raised from the dead, we will always have the opportunity to proclaim the grace and love of God made known to us in the risen Christ.   As the hymnist Timothy Dudley-Smith proclaims:

“Tell out, my soul, the greatness of his might!

Powers and dominions lay their glory by.

Proud hearts and stubborn wills are put to flight,

the hungry fed, the humble lifted high.”  (Hymn 438 Timothy Dudley-Smith)