Except for the Wounds

O my what a week it has been.
Jesus rose from the dead last Sunday, and well, after Lent and all that business with the three days, the emotional roller coaster, the ups, the downs, I for one, felt like crawling in that empty tomb and rolling that rock back in place

Not possible however, as Easter must be celebrated
And celebrated we have. We have alleluiaed ourselves hoarse, exultated and lauded, we have gone through every Gloria in that book, we have sequenced in several languages, we have chanted, sang, run up and down the Church, Te Deumed, rung bells, talked in the refectory and eaten lamb cake until we were sick.

Alleluia Easter is here
And
Everything looks pretty rosy in the shining pastel light of the paschal candle

The primitive Church, depicted so lovingly by Luke in the Acts of the Apostles seems ideal
Everyone gets along
Everyone shares
There are no power struggles, no questions, no conflicting points of view

Gone is the bickering and status mongering of those old disciples; Who will be first and who will be second?

Gone is the rockheaded attempt to maintain control in often out of control pastoral situations GET BEHIND ME SATAN

Gone is the need to justify actions with dramatic professions of faith that will only be shattered momentarily. Lord I will never deny you

Gone is the equivocation, the lies the mendacity, the depravations,

The Church, in the afterglow of Easter is looking pretty good
Now that everything is peace, and love and sweetness and light and hope and faith and truth

And all would be perfect, idyllic, utopian,

Except for Thomas

Except for Thomas, O there is one in every crowd

Thomas the doubter
Thomas the fly in the ointment,
Thomas the complainer
Thomas the worrier
Thomas the skeptic
Thomas the empiricist
Thomas the evidentialist
Thomas the curmudgeon

The disciples were all worked up. He is risen, He is alive, He is glorified
He walks through walls
He cooks breakfast
But Thomas says:
I will not believe
I will never believe until I touch him, probe his wounds. Touch his hands and his side.

Fortunately, the resurrected Jesus is very patient with this sort of thing
He gives Thomas what he wants

And what did Thomas discover in that exploration of the body of Christ

What did that probing reveal to him that leads old Tom to make the most profound profession of faith in the Gospel
My Lord and my God
What did Thomas find out

That it was in fact Jesus .

It was Jesus

It was the Jesus that walked with him and the others along those dusty roads. Racing down the corridors of time with a revolutionary message of salvation THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS AT HAND

It was the Jesus that healed the sick and raised the dead to new life and changed people forever, giving them not only sight, not only movement, but a reason for living, a reason for being

It was the Jesus that was hosannaed into Jerusalem on that Sunday of Palms who had been the darling of the crowds, the one they followed, adored, adulated. MESSIAH KING

It was the Jesus that offered himself, his very body and blood to his followers as a living legacy, who changed the world that night with a simple bit of bread and a cup of common wine. This is me. This is my memorial

It was the Jesus who stood trial and endured the agony of interrogation, the humiliation of being ridiculed in the court of mockery

It was the Jesus who suffered the indignity of the cross, who endured its pain even though he owed nothing, was guilty of no crime.

It was the same Jesus, the very same Jesus that called Thomas, that loved Thomas, that shared a life with Thomas, that encouraged Thomas
The same Jesus
The same Lord
The same one
Except for the wounds

Except for the wounds in his sacred hands, rent by the cold iron of our hardness of heart, our sin, our selfishness, the pride of generations, the iniquity of Adam, the indignity of the Law, broken promises, shattered covenants

Except for the wounds in his precious feet, those feet that trod the dirt strewn backroads of the human condition, healing and proclaiming announcing that we are more than what we seem, that we are a people worth fighting for, worth dying for, a beautiful people who have forgotten their own dignity and worth

Except for the wounds on his dear brow that marred his appearance beyond that of other men, that cut into his mind with the keenness of thorns the reality of the human condition, a conflicted condition, the human dilemma. I do not do what I want to do but what I am compelled to do by my pride, by my ego, by my petty wants and desires

Except for the wounds that rent his side pouring out blood and water, his precious blood for the life of the world, the waters of the new Eden, the spring of life, the flood of baptism flowing out from the Jordan and cleansing a sin ravaged landscape, giving life to the deserts of our hearts.
Except for the wounds we should have died, weighed down by our sins, pierced for our own offenses, cut off from the friendship of God and humanity, isolated from our own identity

Except for the wounds we should not be alive in these Easter Days, we could not know truth of this paschal tide, we could never see the pure grace of the cross, we should not taste the glory of the empty tomb

Except for the wounds we would not know who we are
For we too are a wounded people
We are a wounded people. Wounded by our past, our lost loves, our broken dreams, our shattered childhoods. Wounded by violence, by abuse, by hurts and real pains, by isolation, bigotry, prejudice

We are a wounded people in a wounded world, a world wounded by the ravages of hunger, of war, of a culture of death, wounded by indifference, by economic inequity, by sexism, by genocides, old grudges, hatred among peoples

We are a wounded community, wounded by pains that are long in healing, by old rejections, perceived slights, generational confusions, the indignities of disability, a lack of respect for the wisdom of age, impatience, judgementalness, self love

We are a wounded church, scarred by theological warfare, liturgical infighting, a lack of charity, dissent, clericalism, sexual abuse, power scandals

Wounded in the Church
Wounded in our community
Wounded in our world
Wounded in ourselves

And all Thomas like we probe these wounds, get to know these wounds, explore these wounds, ultimately love these wounds because these wounds tell us precisely who we are the BODY OF CHRIST

We hold a treasure but in Earthen vessels
We carry the mystery of Easter but in scarred bodies

By his wounds we have been healed

And by the wounds in his body, the Church, we come to know him

There is no Church if his body is not broken

There is no communion if his flesh is not rent, his blood poured out

There is no people if we do not share his sufferings

There is no me except that he first suffered and died and rose for me

Except for the wounds we would be nothing

Doubting Thomases without a vision of the living God

Except for the wounds there could be no salvation

And that is a reason for rejoicing in a season of endless celebration, that is a reason for singing alleluia, that is a reason for acknowledging in the rosy glow of the resurrection that it is only through the wounds, through the scars, through the fissures of life that grace rushes in.