“When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you’” (John 20:19).
The image of Jesus’ disciples huddled in fear behind locked doors on that first Easter evening is a poignant one. Regardless of whether they had believed Mary’s announcement that she had seen the Lord, surely Jesus had hoped for more from his closest followers. Surely Jesus had hoped for more from them than being so paralyzed by their fear that they had chosen to isolate themselves from the world beyond their own walls of safety and security.
And yet, how many times have we, as Christ’s church in the world, chosen to hide behind the comfort of what we believe to be safe and secure rather than trusting the gospel enough to risk going out the door? How many times have we huddled together out of fear instead of responding out of faith? How many times have we, like those first disciples, not lived as the freed and forgiven resurrection people Christ died for us to be?
We are motivated by fear rather than faith when we choose to demonize those who are different than us, mistakenly thinking that if we huddle closely together only with those who are like us that no harm will befall us. We are motivated by fear rather than faith when we respond with a rhetoric of hate instead of a resolve to love, mistakenly thinking that we can somehow bully our way into a position of security. We are motivated by fear rather than faith when we seek to turn a profit at all costs instead of living a life of generosity, mistakenly thinking that as long as we have more than our neighbor, we will somehow be safe. We are motivated by fear rather than faith when we trust in one nation or another more than we trust in Jesus, mistakenly worshiping the false god of nationalism over and above the true God of the nations.
The risen Jesus enters beyond the locked doors of our lives and of our communities, speaking into our fear, just as he spoke into the fear of those first disciples, the transforming word, “Peace be with you.” After showing them his scar-marked hands and side, Jesus says, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (20:21). With the word of peace, the risen Jesus sends his fear-filled disciples into the world to bear this same transforming word. With the word of peace, the risen Jesus calls us, his community of disciples, to risk stepping out from behind our locked doors and to speak peace, through both our words and actions, to a world captive to fear. With the word of peace, the risen Jesus calls us, his community of disciples and, by our witness, calls the world, out of death and into life.
One of our weekly liturgical actions as the gathered assembly is the sharing of the peace, greeting our siblings in Christ with the words of Jesus, “Peace be with you.” In sharing this liturgical act, we are invited to do more than simply say a passing “Good morning” or some other mundane word. In greeting one another with the words, “Peace be with you,” we are doing nothing less than bearing witness to the transforming word of peace the risen Jesus spoke to his disciples hiding behind locked doors. In sharing the peace, the gathered assembly enacts a visible sign of the reconciliation that is ours in Christ Jesus and that the risen Christ himself has sent us to speak into the world around us.
What if we Christians started using these words — “Peace be with you” — to greet all those with whom we interact on a daily basis and not just those with whom we worship? Imagine greeting the server at your local restaurant with these words — “Peace be with you.” Imagine speaking these words — “Peace be with you” — every morning to the co-worker you can barely stand. Imagine engaging with a political rival by beginning with these words — “Peace be with you.” Imagine showing up at that family gathering and extending these words — “Peace be with you” — to that relative you have not spoken to for years. Imagine greeting that person at church with whom you cannot get along no matter how hard you try with these words — “Peace be with you.” Just imagine what might happen. Imagine what might happen if we risked leaving our locked rooms and engaging the world as Jesus first engages us. Imagine how these words might begin to transform our relationships, our communities, our world.
Many of us are asking ourselves these days what we can do to resist the culture of hate and division that infects so many of our communities. It might not seem like much, but perhaps we could start by engaging with one another, not out of a posture of fear, but rather out of the posture of faith in our risen Lord, as we speak Jesus’ own transforming word, “Peace be with you.” Indeed, perhaps the act of resistance begins with the speaking of Jesus’ own word of peace, not just in the gathered assembly, but also in the world.
Peace be with you +
Bishop Greg