One of the great differences between middle
school and adulthood is that in middle school it is cool to be hurt. Back in my day, no one ever tore or cut
anything, being injured meant having a broken bone. Girls who normally wouldn’t even look at you
vied for the opportunity to sign your cast.
Teachers excused you from class five minutes early under the premise
that you needed more time to navigate the halls. Best of all, because you were deemed unable
to carry your own books, you got to choose someone to leave early with
you. You could pick a friend or perhaps
someone who was going to the same class, but most guys, if they knew anything
about anything, designated the cutest girl in the class to assist them. During these precious moments you felt as
free as Andy Dufresne sipping suds with
his buddies after tarring the prison roof.
But now, as an adult, injuries, aches, pains,
and wounds carry very little, if any, benefit.
They are the marks we bear for having the timidity to live this thing we
call life. No one – and I mean NO ONE –
gets through life unscathed.
On the Sunday after Easter the Lectionary
always has us explore the Risen Christ’s early appearance to the disciples when
Thomas is not present. When Thomas does
show up they tell him what he missed. He
famously replies, “Unless I see the wounds and touch them for myself, I will
not believe” – a response that gets him dubbed with the nickname “Doubting
Thomas”.
We might want to ask why the wounds were so
important to him. I mean, he could have
required anything as proof – walking on water, calming a raging storm, or
restoring sight to the blind. A
straight-forward answer could be that the wounds would authenticate it was in
fact Jesus and that he had in fact been put to death. But something is going on here that is much
deeper and more significant than the hunt for basic evidence. What might that be? (Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, old
Corny a Lapide can shed no light on this question, presumably because he took
off the Sunday after Easter).
Consider this: Did you know that Christianity
is the only religion that worships a wounded god? All other religions worship a being who is
above pain and suffering. Our God became
incarnate and suffered as we suffer, yet rose victorious and promises that we
will rise with too – not only in the next life, but also in this one. Over the centuries, millions and millions of
believers have come to understand that the wounds Jesus endured are symbolizes of
the wounds we experience in life.
The wounds on Jesus’ back (inflicted by the
whip) have come to stand for broken promises.
It is difficult to get through life without breaking a promise and darn
near impossible to get through life without enduring a promise made to you
being broken. I have been on both sides
and neither feels good.
The wounds to Jesus’ head (caused by the
crown of thorns) have come to stand for broken thoughts – those ways we tear
ourselves down or allow the words of others to ruminate in us to our detriment. It may be the voice of an overly critical
parent reminding that you will never amount to anything. It may be the voice of society saying you
should be thinner. Or it may even be
your own voice articulating expectations about life that are completely
unrealistic.
The nail wounds in Jesus’ hands and feet have
come to represent the brokenness of our bodies.
Some of us experience this as the aches and pains of getting older,
while others live with chronic and debilitating conditions. That nearly 25% of our income is spent of
healthcare suggests there is much about our physical bodies that is broken.
The spear wound to Jesus’ side now stands for
broken relationships. Leonardo da Vinci
included a fascinating detail in his famous painting of the Last Supper. Under Judas’ elbow there is a spilled salt
cellar because in that day salt was a symbol of friendship of hospitality. There is not a person here this morning who
has not suffered at least one very painful broken relationship in life.
Jesus’ fifth wound, the piercing wound to his
heart, has come to represent broken faith.
Wounds and wrongs have a way of sticking like burrs to the soul. C.S.
Lewis once said that praise is inner health made audible, but for many it is an
act that simply is not possible.
That Jesus had been wounded Thomas believed. That he could be raised given those wounds
Thomas questioned. If you consider the
wounds of your life you will certainly understand his position. Broken things stay broken for a long, long
time.
I
personally have visited very few of the great cathedrals in Europe, but those
who have say that one of the most beautiful stained glass windows is found at
the Cathedral in Winchester, England. It
tells no Biblical story nor does it refract the mystery of light, but rather it
radiates a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors.
The
Winchester window was not always as it is now.
One day in the 17th century soldier’s of Cromwell’s army used sticks and
bars to destroy the ancient windows of Winchester Cathedral along with all the
medieval statuary. Outside the cathedral
on that dark day, the lawn was strewn with tiny fragments of glass, irrevocably
shattered. When the soldiers left, the
people came out to look at the ruins.
One man stepped forward and began to collect the smashed debris. Soon the whole community joined him until
many bushels were gathered.
It was
evident that a reconstruction of the original work would be impossible. Still, a cathedral glass worker asked to have
the fragments and promised to do the best he could with what had been
recovered. Step by step, inch by inch,
high on a scaffold above the cathedral nave, the artisan arranged the little
pieces into an intricate abstraction.
Nothing like it had ever been seen before and some shook their heads and
grumbled at the novelty of it all.
When the
great window was finally completed, all the assorted little pieces were fit
together in an array of jewels. Those
who visit that cathedral today stand in a light radiating through that broken
glass which proclaims the essence of the Christian faith more powerfully than any
sermon ever could: God can take all the shattered, broken fragments of our
lives and create inexpressible beauty.
When
Thomas says “I will not believe he is risen until I touch his wounds myself” he
is saying he is desperate to know that religion is not a facade masking
unhealable pain, that God knows how broken our lives have become and how much
we suffer, and that those wounds can be transformed into something strong and
beautiful so that their witness is irrefutable.
The
choice of every human being is twofold. Either
we can fall through the cracks of our lives, or we can allow God to shine
through them. Jesus Christ accepts us as
we are (broken, limited, sinful and struggling), long before we accept him. Where we would put ourselves down, Christ
bends to lift us up. Where we would heap
judgment and blame upon ourselves, Christ tenderly forgives and accepts
us. Where we are filled with despair or
overwhelming sorrow, Christ loves us with a love that recreates us. You must always remember this: the broken
conditions of our humanity elicit Christ’s redemptive touch.
At every
service of public worship, in every moment of private prayer, and at every
celebration of the Holy Eucharist, in one way or another, the question is
asked, “Is your heart breaking? Then let
it break here. Is your body broken? Then bring its broken parts here. Does your mind sometimes break down in a deep
anguish you never knew was possible?
Then bring its broken fragments here.”
Then and only then can we say with Julian of Norwich, “All our wounds
are seen before God not as wounds but as worships.”
Back in
middle school, walking those halls with casts and crutches, it must have been
said a hundred times, “The doctor told me that the strongest part of any human
bone is the place where a fracture has healed.”
Today we look on our wounded Lord who has been transformed into glory
and we look upon the marks of His suffering.
From the witness of the wounds we know that he is like us. We know that he understands us. And we know that if we share in his
resurrection we can be made whole like he is.
We know all of this because of the witness of the wounds.
