A homily for the Second Sunday of Easter, 2025, for the people of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Loudonville, NY, and First Lutheran Church, Albany, NY.
The texts are John 20:1-31 (mostly 19-31) and Revelation 1:4-8.
Early on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb in which Jesus had been buried. Mary found the stone rolled away and ran to tell Simon Peter and the others. “They’ve taken him!” she said. Simon Peter came to the tomb and found linen cloths, in which the body of Jesus had been wrapped, neatly folded and the tomb empty. He remembered that Jesus said he must be raised on the third day, and he believed but did not understand. Simon Peter and the other man with him left and went home, leaving Mary Magdalene alone in the garden around the tomb.
Weeping in the garden, Mary peered into the tomb. Through her tears, she saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying. After speaking to the angels Mary turned and saw Jesus, but did not recognize him. “Where have you put him?” she asked.
“Mary!” he answered.
“Rabbouni!” Mary exclaimed.
Mary ran and told the others “I have seen the Lord!”
The first resurrection appearance of Jesus in the gospel according to John.[1]
That very day, in the evening, Jesus’ disciples were together pondering all that had happened. Just a few days before, a member of their inner circle had stood up and left the dinner table, and then, after dinner, brought police to arrest Jesus. Jesus had been quickly tried and executed, his body laid in a new tomb just a day later. And now his body was gone and Mary said she’s seen him alive!
This is A LOT to process. This is a traumatic event, an event that defies normal modes of explanation and meaning making. The disciples are afraid that the people who killed Jesus may come for them. They believe in the resurrection, but don’t understand it. They are traumatized and don’t know what to do next.
In their fear and joy, in their trauma and uncertainty, in their belief and doubt, behind a locked door, Jesus appears to them. “Peace be with you,” he says to them.
“Peace be with you,” he said, and they remembered.
“Peace be with you,” and they remembered all that he had said on the night he was betrayed: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”[2]
“Peace be with you,” and they remembered that he said he was going ahead of them to prepare a place for them, that the father’s house has many dwelling places.
“Peace be with you,” and they remembered that he said he would not leave them alone, that he would send the Advocate to them to guide them.
“Peace be with you,” and they remembered that he said “Love one another. As I have loved you, love one another.”
“Peace be with you,” he said, and they remembered and believed, and he breathed on them, sending the Holy Spirit onto them, giving them the Advocate to guide and strengthen them.
The second resurrection appearance of Jesus in the gospel according to John.
But Thomas was not with them. Maybe he was off getting supper for them all or taking care of a sick auntie. Regardless, he missed Jesus saying, “peace be with you.” Thomas missed seeing his wounds and missed the breath of the Spirit. “Unless I see and touch, I won’t believe,” he said.
“Unless…I won’t believe;”
“Because of … I can’t believe;”
“I believe, help my unbelief.”
In her book Searching for Sunday, Rachel Held Evans writes about growing up in an evangelical church and struggling with the church and her faith. Writing about one particular Easter Sunday, Evans writes:
It will bother you off and on, like a rock in your shoe.
Or startle you, like the first crash of thunder in a summer storm.
Or lodge itself beneath your skin like a splinter.
Or show up again—the uninvited guest whose heavy footsteps you’d recognize anywhere, appearing at your front door with a suitcase in hand at the worst possible time.
Doubt will pull you farther out to sea like riptide…
…you won’t know how to explain that there is nothing nominal or lukewarm or indifferent about standing in this hurricane of questions every day and staring each one down until you’ve mustered all the bravery and fortitude and trust it takes to whisper just one of them out loud on the car ride home:
“What if we made this up because we’re afraid of death?”[3]
“Unless…I won’t believe;”
“Because of … I can’t believe;”
“I believe, help my unbelief.”
Like Thomas, we want to see what others have seen, we want the relationship with God that others have. Like Rachel Held Evans, sometimes something nags at us, and we question, is what I’ve been taught what I believe? “What if we just made this up because we’re afraid of death?”
Evans goes on:
…please know you are not alone.
There are other people singing words to hymns they’re not sure they believe today,
other people digging out dresses from the backs of their closets today,
other people ruining Easter brunch today,
other people just showing up today.
And sometimes, just showing up, burial spices in hand, is all it takes to witness a miracle.[4]
Sometimes just showing up, like Mary, Mary, and Joanna, with burial spices in Luke’s Gospel,[5] and like Mary weeping in garden in John’s gospel, is all it takes to witness a miracle.
A week went by, and the disciples were together again in a locked room. This time Thomas was there, still doubting and still showing up anyway. The resurrected Jesus appeared again to them.
“Peace be with you,” he said to them. Remembering everything, seeing the hands and feet and side of Jesus, Thomas exclaims, “My Lord and my God!”
There are other people just showing up today, and sometimes that is all it takes to witness a miracle.
Let our community be a community that welcomes doubt and questions, a community that wrestles with uneasy answers, a community of faith that strains against the future, built on hope in Christ, hope that is the unquiet heart that wrestles against the world.
Let us walk together with God and Christ into God’s future, as uncertain as we may be about where that call takes us and as risky as that future is sure to be. Believing together, even when we don’t understand, we encounter the one who was and who is and who is to come, the lamb who was slain and has begun his reign.
Let us say together, “My Lord and my God.”
Let us say, “We have seen the Lord! Alleluia!”
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
[1] John 20:1-18 – The Gospel for the Easter Vigil
[2] John 14:27
[3] Evans, Rachel Held. Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church (pp. 186-188). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.
[4] Evans. p.188
[5] Luke 24:1-12 - The Gospel for Easter Sunday in Year C.