The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Acts 5:27-32, Revelation 1:4-8, John 20:19-31
A friend of mine wears a button that says, “I remember I walked into this room for a reason.” You know this thing that happens when we suddenly find ourselves standing in the middle of the living room and wondering what it was we intended to do. Some say that this is a symptom of aging, that as we age we forget more. Perhaps. But it seems to me that I have been retracing my steps for as long as I can remember. I am ever hopeful that if I walk the path again, or go back to where I started the thought process, my body will somehow remember what was so important. Remembering is important. Retracing our steps is not just a telling act of aging, but a necessary act of living more deeply. In her book The Desert Mothers: Spiritual Practices from the Women of the Wilderness, Episcopal priest Mary Earle writes that in the tradition of desert spirituality, “the primordial sin is the sin of forgetting—forgetting that God brings us into being and that each life is a treasure.”
Today we retrace our Easter steps. We hear the Easter story again, so that we can remember why we came into this room. It is still the day of the resurrection in this story from John’s Gospel. Mary Magdalene has encountered Christ at the empty tomb, but the other disciples have not. As they gather that evening, perhaps trying to make sense of what Mary has told them, Jesus is suddenly among them. He greets them with peace. He shows them his hands and side, demonstrating that the risen one still bears the wounds of his humanity and suffering. He commissions them all, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” He gives them strength for the journey, breathing the Holy Spirit on them, into them. But Thomas isn’t there. The others tell him later, “We have seen the Lord!” But he wants to see for himself.
Doubting Thomas. I often think we give Thomas a hard time, calling him the doubter. All he wants is to see the risen Christ. He wants to touch him and know this miracle is true. After all, everyone else got to; they didn’t have to believe without seeing. Wouldn’t you want to see for yourself? Wouldn’t you want to touch Christ and know this miracle in person? A week later, Thomas gets his chance. The community gathers again and this time Thomas is there. Christ comes again. Thomas sees and touches and believes. See, the moment at the tomb when Mary recognizes the risen Christ is a glorious one—but it is not the only moment of encounter. Mary first tells the others about it, and then they meet the risen Christ in the upper room. They too go out and tell what they have seen, and Thomas comes. From the very beginning the disciples have to rehearse it. They retrace their steps to remind themselves of the reality and significance of the resurrection. They gather again, tell the story again and eventually some of them will write it down.
Do you remember what Christ says after Thomas has seen him? Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe. That is us. Christ calls us blessed. Because we do not have that first-person, hands-on experience of the risen one—or do we? Who are we, this gathered community? Are we not the body of Christ? And when we gather each week, when we retrace our steps and remember and rehearse the story, we embody Christ for all who are searching. Do you remember what the writer of John’s gospel says at the end of telling the Easter story? “I am writing this so that you may come to believe. I am retracing my steps so that I can remember and tell you. I am retelling the story so that you can believe and that in believing you can have life.”
You may not think that you have this life in you. There are days when I am not sure what I believe and am certain I have nothing to offer anyone. So, you may feel abundantly full of new life today, or you may feel that you have nothing to offer anyone else. Nevertheless, people will find Christ here. People will experience new life here today because you are here. Because you have retraced your steps to here, others will experience the risen Christ. This is what we do when we gather each week. We are the body of Christ. We are here so that anyone who is searching for Christ can find that life here. Maybe it is someone who has never been here before, maybe it is someone who is always here. Remember, you came here for a reason. Remember, it is still Easter.
The push of Holy Week crescendos in the burst of glory that last week’s Easter celebration was. But that is not all. The fast of Lent was 40 days and the feast of Easter is even longer: the Great 50 Days we call it. It is a seven week long party and celebration. This is reflected in our liturgy: the Alleluias have been uncovered, the Paschal candle burns brightly and we dress the church in the white vestments of the resurrection. But perhaps this story gets too familiar, or old, or easy. What reminds us “Why did I walk into this room?” Why are we here now today? So we retrace our steps and retell the story. As we gathered today, the children flowered this cross to remember the new life that Christ offers and to remind us that the Easter celebration continues. And in just a few moments, our young people will help us all remember that God brings us into being, and each of us is a treasure.
All through Lent, the youth of this parish have been collecting for the Heifer Project, a ministry which provides livestock to families so they can provide a living for themselves. It is a ministry that gives life. Through the Heifer Project, you can send a hive of bees, a flock of chickens or even a heifer. The youth of this parish will bring forward their offerings today, and when the money is counted, they will gather together and choose what gift of life they can send to someone who needs life. They will share the new life they find in Easter with others. We remember that all are treasured by offering some of our treasure. But I tell you, the coins that will go into this ark up here are not the greatest treasure we will send from this congregation. We also send forth the treasure of our children’s hope and generosity which they offer so willingly. The first Heifer offering to be received came last night, as one of our teenagers made sure to bring it with her to Saturday’s service. She remembered.
We are gathered here today, but Thomas is not here. Someone is missing. Someone who may be here next week and needs to hear the story. Someone who needs to experience this community. Perhaps for the first time. Perhaps for the hundredth. That is a treasure that we can offer. That is the gift of life that we embody at this very moment. That is why we tell the story over and over again. We remind one another why we came into this room. This room of a glorious Cathedral. This room of love and community. This room of hope for a different way of life. Remember, you came into this room for a reason.
Copyright © 2007 Anne E. Kitch
