John 20:19-31
Easter 2 / Year B
The
first few weeks after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, along with the
experience of receiving the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, are pretty heady times
for the early church. Thinking Jesus is
going to return soon to initiate his kingdom, those first followers come
together often to pray and to watch.
Most give up their jobs and even begin to sell their homes. The small group holds the proceeds in a
communal fund which is used to pay for everyone’s living expenses as well as to
assist the poor and needy.
I
have heard more than one preacher extol the model of the early Church. Why can’t everyone be equal? Why can’t we share all so no one has
need? Who wouldn’t want to live in this
kind of Utopia? Well, for the early church,
two problems emerge. First, Jesus
doesn’t return in the timely manner believers expect and it doesn’t take long
for the funds to dry up. Yes, everyone
has the same. The problem is what each has
eventually is not sufficient.
Does
utopianism work? Both Plymouth and
Jamestown struggle mightily in their first few years as settlers work collectively
for the good of all. Shortages are
common and hunger is rampant until families and individuals are given plots of
land to work for their own benefit. Only
then do the settlements begin to produce enough food and crops to sustain each
enterprise.
The
need to get back to work is the first challenge to the early church’s communal
enterprise. Here is the second: Not
everyone is honest with their sharing. Enter
Ananias and Sapphira, a couple who holds back some of the profit they make from
selling their house and then lie to Peter about it. You may be interested to know the Lectionary
does not appoint this part of the story to be read, rather it ends with the
happy part about everyone sharing and having everything they need. I decided the rest of the passage provides a
needed cautionary tale to the rosy beginning.
That
the couple dies for lying feels harsh, to say the least. After all, Paul was stricken blind for only three
days and he was involving in arresting Christians and stoning them. That everyone else is in the church is seized
with great fear is understandable. Imagine
if people at St. Paul’s keeled over from time to time for their foibles. We would be shaken too.
In our
gospel reading we hear of Jesus breathing on his followers to impart the Holy
Spirit on them. He then gives this
commission: “If you forgive
the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are
retained.” The power to forgive and the
authority to condemn are awesome responsibilities and, to be honest, the
history of the Church suggests we have not always used them well.
In this matter, John the Apostle, in his
first letter, turns away from an institutionally-centric approach to one more
personal:
If we say we have
no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful
and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness… I am writing these things to you so that you
may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we
have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the
atoning sacrifice for our sins.
Here the emphasis
is on the power each of us has to confess, to repent, to make amends, to be
forgiven, and to be restored to fullness of life within the Christian community
rather than on the community’s power to render judgment.
Here is what I make
of all of this:
First, we all sin
and fall short of who we are called to be and what we are called to do. In just a few moments, as we renew our
baptismal covenant, I will ask you, “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and
whenever you sin (not, in the extremely unlikely event you do sin) repent and
return to the Lord? You will respond, “I
will with God’s help.”
Second, the Church
is called more to forgive sins than to retain them. When I was ordained to the priesthood I made
a vow to “endeavor so to minister the Word of God and the sacraments of the New
Covenant, that the reconciling love of Christ may be known and received.” For me, this means, in part, the opportunity
to confess is less of a demand than it is an invitation. My primary role as a priest is not to point
out all the fallenness in our lives, but to hold up the opportunity for
transformation. We are, as I have said
before (and try to embrace myself), not defined by our worst moments in
life.
And finally, there
are times – and they are sad – when the church must hold individuals or groups
accountable for their sinful actions. We
describe the threshold for this as being a “scandal to the community.” I think about the time a woman was taking
money out of our collection plate. I sat
down with her and said, “We really do enjoy having you be a part of our
community, but I can’t have you taking money from the offering.” It was, I thought, a welcome and an
invitation to change; to conform to the basic requirements of being a member of
a healthy church. She has not been back
since I spoke with her.
I don’t believe I
have every preached about Ananias and Sapphira, nor have I ever attempted to
tackle the whole thing about forgiving and retaining sins. I trust my musings will cause you to think
and to reflect and, as always, I would love to hear your thoughts on all of
this.
