PEACE IS THE ANSWER

I am delighted to be here today to give Pastor Ann some time away after the
tumult of Holy Week and Easter. On my way to this preaching moment, I
experienced a common occurrence when I preached on a regular basis for over
twenty years. Sometimes your initial idea gets you only so far and then it does not.
But if the sermon title no longer fits I trust that the Spirit has led me to the message
we need to hear.
Let us pray. “God of wonder, the resurrection has happened. Where do we
go from here? Amen.”
As I contemplated today’s gospel passage my mind went back to Easter
Sunday and the Second Sunday of Easter in 1985. I had left the church of my youth
thirteen years earlier when I came out in 1973. I had grown up going to Sunday
School and church every Sunday but I sensed the conservative denomination of my
youth was not a safe place to ponder my emerging gay identity.
I didn’t leave empty handed. I had my faith instilled from hours in worship
and Sunday School. I knew the stories of my faith and, most importantly, the music
of my faith. I had the memory of traveling to Boston with my high school youth
group to see this new musical Godspell. Most importantly, I was free to
contemplate this new identity and to explore the relationship with my partner
which began in 1973 without the burden of church judgment.
I had my faith. I just didn’t have my church. For many years that was fine.
But in 1985 my life was lacking direction. Unexpected changes in my work
situation had left me shaken. I felt unfocused. I also had an unexpected desire to go
to church. I decided to go to the Easter Service at Alice Millar Chapel. I knew the
University Chaplain was a gay man. I knew they had an excellent music program.
I also sensed that my spiritual confusion – if that is what it was – needed
more than the flashy substance of Easter. I decided I would go to church on both
Easter Sunday and the Sunday after Easter. I probably remembered my faithful,
churchgoing parents talking about people who just showed up on Christmas Eve
and Easter and was determined not to be “one of those people.”
Thanks to the powers of Google, I discovered the Second Sunday of Easter
in 1985 had the same passages we heard today. I remember the doubting part of the
story – I had enough doubts to fill a large suitcase – but I wonder if I heard the
three times Jesus said, “Peace be with you.” I know I needed to hear the message
that year. It would have taken more than three times for me to experience that
sense of deep peace. But sometimes it’s important to just show up.
This year I heard those words: “Peace be with you,” the extraordinary
blessing of peace Jesus imparted to his disciples. This profound peace is reflected
in another text for this day, the text of the Benediction Song: “Deep peace of the
running wave to you, deep peace of the flowing air to you, deep peace of the quiet
earth to you, deep peace of the shining stars to you, deep peace of the gentle night
to you, moon and stars pour their healing light on you. Deep peace of Christ, the
light of the world, to you. Deep peace of Christ to you.”
The “deep peace” Jesus imparts to his disciples reminds us we cannot go
back to the way we were before the stone was rolled away and the women ran to
tell the disciples Jesus had risen.
The “deep peace” Jesus imparts to his disciples reminds us that, like the first
disciples, we are afraid that resurrection reality is not real, that perhaps we are not
the Easter People we claim to be, especially in a world where death is often the last
word.
In these few verses we see immediately how their lives are changed. The
followers of Jesus have locked themselves away from the world. Fear rules.
Doors are locked. But Jesus appears, locked door or not. He greets the astonished
followers with the first greeting of peace. Once they got over their shock, they
rejoiced in his presence.
After the second greeting of peace, Jesus says his followers are no longer
disciples, they are apostles being sent out into the world. In John’s version of
Pentecost, the Holy Spirit is breathed upon them and they are given equipment for
the journey: the power of forgiveness that will help them as they battle the forces
of sin – personal and systemic – sin that needs to be transformed.
A few weeks ago I read one of the UCC Daily Devotionals written by Mary
Luti, retired professor at Boston College and, for me, a goddess who speaks truth.
She asked if the preachers she heard could stop with the moralizing and with the
lists of things to do and, instead, inspire devotion and praise, knowing that, just
perhaps, the people in the pews know what need to be done and don’t need to be
told. She asked preachers to give them the presence of Christ.
 I confess I saw myself as one of those moralizing, list-giving preachers even
as I know the importance of preaching these things in a world that seems to have
no moral compass. Further reflection made me laugh just a bit. Who was I to tell
Richard Davis what he needed to do was feed some hungry folk or tell Chris Krei
he needed to find a home for some homeless folk or tell Lindsey Hammond she
needed to travel to Springfield to solve a systemic ill? Who am I to tell Debbie
Manson she needs to stop baking cookies, especially those small ones with the
pink icing? Perhaps, indeed, they already know this. Perhaps all of you do.
What I can say is that one of the most precious gifts you can receive this
Easter Season is the gift of peace, peace that transforms our fears into action, peace
that transforms our doubts – or at least some of them – into faith.
Each Sunday you have the chance to share this “deep peace” with each
other, just as Jesus shared peace with his disciples.
David Lornson told me the story of how the passing of the peace was
introduced. In true First Congregational of Evanston tradition, there had been
much talk about this liturgical change. But after much talk and – here is my
conjecture – perhaps fear that it would remain just talk, one Pentecost Sunday,
Pastor Ted Miller descended from his pulpit into the congregation and said, “Let us
greet each other in the peace of Christ.”
There was a new energy. There were greetings and hugs. There were even a
few tears. The peace of Christ was here to stay. It was this church’s post-
resurrection moment when Christ entered and offered the sign of peace.
The passing of the peace is the presence of the risen Christ in worship, made
alive by the way we greet each other and offer each other signs of peace, that in
this time in our lives as a congregation are still needed. There is still need for
greetings and for hugs and for a few tears. There is still room and need for the
peace of Christ.
As with the disciples in that locked room, the peace of Christ charges us to
be apostles bringing healing, wholeness, forgiveness, and transformation to a world
that has a great need for this deep peace of Christ.
May the deep peace of Christ, the light of the world, be with you. May
peace, like a river, fill your soul.