Behind Locked Doors
Second Sunday of Easter
Have you ever hidden behind locked doors for fear of your life? Many years ago, when our family lived in the semi-desert of northern Kenya, there was a time that deeply frightened us. It was evening, almost dark, when we heard a vehicle in the distance. Living in the bush, the only vehicle for miles around was ours. Who could be wandering around in a truck in the middle of nowhere this time of day? As the sound drew nearer, we realized it wasn’t just a single vehicle, but several 4-wheelers—more than a dozen, with their headlights blazing into our windows. In a panic, I grabbed our young children and hid in a closet while my husband went to the door to meet the strangers. Crouching silently in the closet, I heard words that terrified me—"We are the Israelis and we know where you are.” In a saner moment, you would realize that doesn’t make much sense in Kenya, nor that we need fear “the Israelis.” But for a mother hiding her children from the unknown, it did nothing to quell my fear. After a few moments of listening to their conversation, I heard my husband laugh and say, “of course, and my wife and kids are here, too!” I realized then that he was not worried about this strange group, so we emerged to meet them.
We discovered they were Israeli fathers and daughters on a rugged adventure through the Kenyan desert. They “knew where we were” because they had satellite maps showing the metal roof of our house. They were anxious about the surroundings and wondered if they could sleep in our fenced space. We welcomed them in, they camped in our yard that night and we offered them showers and use of the flush toilet. The next morning before they left, they even offered us use of their satellite phone to call our families in the States. What began as a night of terror ended in a day of mutual hospitality, joy, and pleasure.
In this week’s gospel reading, the disciples found themselves in a state of terror. Their leader was dead, rumored to be alive (but really, who would believe the women?), and there was a high probability that the civic and religious leaders would begin a sweep of the city to discover and punish Jesus’s revolutionary followers. Hiding behind locked doors was the surest way to save their skin. Then unexpectedly, Jesus shows up in their midst. And speaks words they most need to hear at that moment—Peace be with you.
With Jesus among them, there is peace. What a breath of fresh air! While this was a common, everyday greeting, there is nothing ordinary about Jesus’s sharing of it in this room. His words here are like a fulfillment of what he spoke back in John 14 when the disciples were fearful at the Last Supper:
The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I don’t give it to you as the world gives. Don’t let your hearts be troubled and don’t let them be afraid. (14.26-27)
Peace, shalom—what an incredible word—that concept that all things will be in perfect relationship with each other and with God, what God intended from the beginning of creation—more than simply a cessation of war, more than a serene state of personal being—this peace is God making all things right.
Jesus repeats his greeting Peace be with you after showing them his wounds, making sure his disciples recognized that it was he himself, their crucified Lord, who stood before them. The risen Jesus’s gift of peace here joins to his promise in John 14 that he will send the Holy Spirit, breathing on them now to receive that Spirit. John opened his story with the theme of creation— All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life (John 1.3-4). And now here at the end, the theme of creation returns. Jesus breathes on them the breath of life—like dead bones lifted from the grave, the followers of Jesus become a new creation, filled with the Holy Breath of God. Don’t be afraid. Fear ceases, terror melts away, when Jesus is present, when the Holy Spirit consumes.