We return to what we can assume is the upper room. The disciples, now frightened and confused, are still there. But before we go any further into the gospel text, we have to confront something else in that room which is the very large elephant that John has placed there with the words, “For fear of the Jews.”

Those of us who were at the service on Good Friday, know that our rector, the intrepid Pamela, has named the elephant already, and I am not going to add very much to what she has said. What is important, however, is that something is said, and said over and over again. And too, let us not forget the appalling and inconceivable citation of last week on Christianity’s dark Friday when the questions being asked about the possible hierarchical cover-ups of pedophilia were compared to the horrors of the holocaust. This business of “for fear of the Jews” is never far from our door.

No other writing in Christian Scripture contains more of an anti-Judaic thrust than the Gospel of John. Biblical Scholars through the centuries have struggled with John’s use of the words “the jews” which are found in the gospel 70 different times, I repeat… 70 different times. And each time, they re-enforce, as they do here, a persistent theme in the Christian psyche, sometimes dormant, sometimes flagrant, but never absent –which is, of course, the reality of anti-Judaism and the seeds of anti-Semitism, our dark and sinful history.

So I had to ask myself an unavoidable question: if Rabbi Berman, or any member of Boston Jewish Spirit, was at this service, not to mention a neighbor or a visitor who is part of our inter-married, inter partnered society – and if they heard this text, what would they think? What should I say to them? 

And that takes me to another question which is, “Why are the disciples afraid?” The answer seems obvious. They are afraid of a small and powerful group of Temple leaders who have been co-opted politically by Rome and who have seen Jesus as a threat to their own corrupt authority. So rather than saying “for fear of the Jews” it would have been more accurate historically and certainly more inviting spiritually if the text had said something like “for fear of this powerful group of Temple leaders who had been co-opted by the Roman hierarchy and who had little or nothing to do with faithful people who were living out Judaism’s ancient covenant of divine promise and the liberation of those who are, in any way, oppressed.

Similar to our own curious tradition, both the Jewish communities prior to and after the destruction of the Temple in the year 70 and the growing Christian community to which John’s gospel is directed were wrestling with matters of identity and faith. How do we relate to the Judaism of the Diaspora Synagogue? How do we relate to those who reject our claim that jesus is the messiah, or that he is the way, the truth, and the life, as John puts it? Who’s in and who’s not in? Since jesus hasn’t returned, what is the apocalyptic hope for those who have been left behind? Where is divine truth to be found in the first century?

And so what would I say to our brother Howard Berman and his congregation? I would confess our Christian sinfulness and I would say that injustice and self-interest always lead inevitably to oppression and suffering. That righteousness, that is, correct relationships, will yield shalom and quiet security. And that righteousness is laid out as the norm for viable community life. And I would say that my prayer for us both is that we will live into that community together and discover the truths of liberating hope, passionate social imagination, and human dignity that are manifestations of the divine will for our people and the communities we serve.

When I talk to my colleagues who are psychiatrists and psychologists, and when I compare notes with the clergy, and when we get down to cases, we find that the primary thing that cramps the human spirit and prevents people from living into the life that the Divine Imagination intends for them is fear.

But on the other side of Easter there is this radical bidding that invites us into a new Peace. We no longer have to surrender ourselves to the climate of angst and alarm with which we are surrounded. We don’t need to accept the prevailing arrangement and submit to the powers that crucified Jesus. This is the great teaching of the Christian Faith. This is the Good News.

The disciples are hiding. Jesus recognizes the fear in the room. “Peace be with you,” he says. Shalom. and when he breathes on them, something of his own divine being goes into them. It is not an easy peace because as Jesus shows them his hands and his side. – that is, his wounds, he is saying that somehow the peace I give to you is born out of the suffering of the world.

If I understand the idea of shalom correctly, and we don’t do it justice when we simply refer to it as peace, it points to one’s well being or safety or wholeness that, by implication, extends to one’s relationships and to the well being of the whole world.  Spiritual wellness in other words, is bestowed through the community, in our acting responsibly toward our neighbor and belonging to others in terms of citizenship and service, hospitality, and mutual help.

The true meaning of what Jesus offers his disciples, its transcendence if you will, will depend on their relationship to the truth and justice that all people seek.  And as the disciples are sent, so are we, - beyond our prejudices, beyond the scapegoating of our culture, past our renewed political violence and every conflict…. further than what our own fear and uncertainty can allow. -Into the world to be bearers of Shalom.

Now to the midst of all of this comes Thomas. Thomas has been missing. He reminds me of the old country and western tune: “I still miss you Baby, but my aim’s getting better.” Where has he been? Why is he missing? Why isn’t he frightened and confused? I think that Thomas is greatly misunderstood, and I particularly dislike the appellation of Doubting Thomas. It sounds like an unfortunate Sunday School trick. What I like to call him is Resisting Thomas. He’s saying: “ I don’t do well with things that are abstract. I am going to resist what you are telling me until I can experience its truth for myself.” And when he touches the hands and side of jesus, when he touches the wounds, it’s as if his faith comes forth from those wounds. It’s a wounded faith that Thomas gains, and it’s a wounded faith that I believe is the deepest faith that we can have. And I imagine that most of you know a lot about that.

I think that we in the church need to do more resisting. If we are going to peacemakers, we have to be intentional about resistance. I think that we have to resist every day, and by resist I mean we have to say “no” - and to say it much earlier than we usually do -  to the assumptions and projections of other people. We condone the most outrageous religious thinking and abusive behavior when we are silent. And we have to resist something else. We have to resist our own feelings of inadequacy - that what we say and think won’t make any difference. Resistance that makes for peace is not so much an effort of brave and courageous individuals as much as the work of the community of faith. Individuals who want to stand up and speak out, even the best and the strongest, will soon be exhausted and even discouraged, but a community of resistance can persevere even when individual members have their moments of weakness. Without community we are all too quickly sucked back into the dark world of needing and blaming. At least I have found it to be true.

In the Bible, It is never known whether the promises of God will come true each time they are given. They are always provisional. They belong afresh to each generation. What, have a child when I am a hundred years old? laughs Abraham. What, Jesus isn’t here? ask the women at the tomb?  What, peace in the Middle East cries the suffering world? You can’t be serious. Well, we don’t know, do we? So we trust instead. We have an Easter faith that says that God brings life after death as much to this generation as any in the past, so we are going to remain open to the possibilities of surprise and astonishment in the traditions of Abraham’s promise and the empty tomb.