Christ breaks any barrier to be with us – Acts 4:32-35; John 20:19-21

 Sunday in the Octave of Easter, Year B; Breen-Philips Hall

We’ve had so long now of having to think about distance. The 6-foot wingspan touchdown Jesus reminds of one thing we need to do to keep one another safe. Distance, barriers… physical things we need right now, but I wonder if we’ve let them get a hold of parts of our spirits where they really don’t belong. I’m glad that Notre Dame tries to be consistent in its messaging in using the phrase “physical distancing” rather than “social distancing,” because it’s so important that we strive to remain socially connected, throughout this pandemic, throughout our lives. And being socially connected doesn’t just mean superficial interactions, but genuine, vulnerable, intimate friendships. And behind that lies spiritual connectedness. Keeping close to God, and allow our other relationships to feed and deepen that central relationship. Sometimes things that are hard feel too heavy to hold, and so we put up barriers and make distance in our spirits. We don’t let ourselves feel another’s pain, or even our own, we don’t offer that to God, let ourselves be inspired to act.

But Jesus comes to us still. That’s what the gospel today tells us. The disciples in that room had set up two barriers: a locked door, and fear. Neither stop Jesus. Not even death, death at our hands, would stop Jesus from being with us. That’s the quality of love that the resurrection testifies to. So, certainly, locked doors won’t. So, certainly, fear won’t. But still, he invites us to unlock those doors, and move out from behind the barrier of fear.

 

He comes and bids them “Peace.” No mere formulaic greeting, he wishes them the rich fullness of Shalom peace. And Jesus’ word does what it means. No more fear. Find peace. He enlivens them with a renewed gift of his breath, of his very spirit, like that breath God first breathed into the nostrils of the earth creature who became Adam.

 

And then he shows them his wounds and his scars. He shows them that he did not fear to come close to a scary world. He let himself be vulnerable. He, who has the power to come back from the dead, has the power give live, to give peace, could have used that power to avoid all suffering, but did not. Instead, he chose to share completely with our human situation, be wounded by our human fallenness, suffer with us, and rise, that we too might be able to rise.

That we might be able to rise from fear to courage, that we might be able to rise from locked doors to open hearts, because we too have his spirit within us.

 

As God sent Christ into the world, so Christ sends us. His sends us to give of ourselves as fully as he gave of himself, knowing that that makes us vulnerable, knowing that he can heal any wound. What are we to give, as the early Christians we read about in Acts practiced deeply sacrificial giving? What do we have locked away, too afraid to put in contact with another?

 

I’ve often reflected that for most students, your most valuable possession is your time. There is so much to do. How might some of that be sacrificed? For family, for a friend, for those in need, for God? But I think that alongside time also stands our hearts. There is so much that is hard to hold right now, that, as I said at the beginning, it can be so easy to keep spiritual distance instead of physical distance, to not open our hearts to risk caring about one more suffering soul, to risk love strong that it might break our hearts.

 

Jesus unlocks the door. Jesus says do no be afraid. Jesus shows us his wounds, his scars, and says, when you hurt, know I’m right there with you. Blessed are those who believe without seeing. But how many of those need there be? How many might be able to believe when they see Christ in his followers, in us, as come close in spirit and bid people “Peace.”