“We are only as sick as our secrets.”
The theme of a sermon several weeks ago. A message lifting up another passage from John’s gospel – words presented by Jesus: “Those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”
Secrets, as we know, shed no light. Whether they be something good we should share … or something we would rather keep covered up.
Not that all or even many should know what’s afoot. If I can answer yes to the question, “Does something need to be said?” that doesn’t necessarily mean I am the one who should say it, or that I am the one who should say it right now. Discernment is called for; information and emotions may be detained till an appropriate time.
But what happens to us when emotions are retained? Holding back – and holding back – until the Kafkaesque emerges:
Anger transforms into resentment.
Sorrow morphs into self-pity.
Fear "metamorphs" into anxiety.
Fear "metamorphs" into anxiety.
Angry, sorrowful, fearful – mad, sad, and afra’d – Jesus’ disciples were. Following Good Friday’s trauma, they were well-rehearsed in the art of retention. Three normal, natural human emotions – retained. Locked up, among themselves.
More “afra’d” they were, than mad or sad. “When it was evening of that day … the doors of the house where the disciples had met [were] locked for fear (of the authorities)” – reflecting John’s second century bias, the “fear of the Jews.”
Fear. The very palpable, impenetrable, sealed, retained, locked in … and quite understandable fear of being discovered, arrested, crucified – for aiding and abetting a political traitor. Crucifixion was reserved for the treasonous, you know – traitors to the violent ways of the Roman Empire, and the ethnic leaders coopted by them. Traitors, like this Prince of Peace … this latest Messiah.
“The doors were locked … for fear of the (authorities).” And why shouldn’t they be?
The Freedom of Forgiveness: Jesus
Well, guess who’s coming to sinners! Resurrected, in all his transformed glory, our imperial traitor commits yet another crime: breaking and entering. Picking the lock on the doors of their hearts:
· You are sad … perhaps shameful? Here are my wounds. It’s me – be comforted!
· You are mad … perhaps resentful? “Peace be with you!”
· You are “afra’d” … perhaps anxious? “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
All good and fine, this spiritual awakening. Those three normal, natural human emotions – sad, mad, afra’d – unleashed … locked up – retained – no more. Liberation accomplished.
Hmm: Liberation for what? They are freed from their emotional prisons; what exactly now are they now freed for? “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” For? For?
“[Jesus] breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven … them. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’”
Forgiveness. Freed from their sad, their mad, and especially their “afra’d” … to be free for forgiving. To be empowered to forgive.
The Practice of Forgiveness: Thomas
And guess who the disciples get to practice on first? One of their very own.
For Thomas had missed Easter Sunday. Jesus’ cameo yet life-altering appearance had passed him by. Thomas wouldn’t – he couldn’t – experience this liberation. Not … yet.
And so, did the disciples retain Thomas’ “sin” of disbelief, because he had happened to miss Easter worship? Of not feeling what they felt, to the point of insisting – insisting – that he must touch the wounds they did not even touch?
The narrative continues: “A week later” – like today, a week after Easter Sunday – “[Jesus’] disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them.”
“A week later … Thomas was with them.” Seven words -- seven simple words – conveying to us – to each and to all – the dramatic first fruits of Christ’s forgiveness revolution.
“A week later … Thomas was with them.” Why? How? They had so little in common anymore. He was this backslider now – but not just that. Thomas could be downright dangerous. Not only Easter-innocent … but now perhaps a spy?
And yet, these disciples allowed Thomas to hang around long enough for his miracle to happen … as it had happened to them.
The Truth about Forgiveness: You & Me
The miracle that could only be realized by their living the first commission the resurrected Jesus had shared with them: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them.” And then -- note the missing “them”, here – “If you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” Jesus didn’t say, in other words, “If you retain the sins of any, they are retained to them” – that these sins are retained against the culprit. Simply, “they are retained.” Which begs the question: to whom? To whom are they retained?
Perhaps the answer is as close as the nearest mirror.
I have found a spiritual adage unfailingly true and liberating both: “Forgiving the sins of any” is not something we do for others. We do it for ourselves – to get well, move on, and ultimately pass along.
And the reverse I find as unfailingly true and binding, too: “To retain the sins of any” is not something we do to other people. We do it to ourselves. Not to get well and move on. We retain sins to stay comfortable, and sick, and defect in place. To keep the doors of our hearts – our churches – under lock and key. To stay fearful – studiously avoidant – immersed in our apathy. To retain the sins unto ourselves. Holding them back … holding them back … holding us back: Look out!
“A week later … Thomas was with them.” Seven words: The celebrated doubting Thomas. With the liberated, forgiving church.
The church – this place for healing – practicing the first commission the raised Christ has sent us to fulfill. Exercising the power to forgive.
It Takes A Church: Us
How powerful it is: that Spirit-gift to forgive. And, how simple.
Trouble is, receiving the Spirit and practicing forgiveness is rarely easy.
Which is why we gather as one in this healing place, today. For we do not – we will not – we cannot – practice and experience this precious gift alone. Not how it is meant to be practiced and experienced.
For I cannot stand here and say to anyone of you who might come to me with a deep grudge or simply a justified anger against someone or some institution and say, “Hey: You must forgive them. It’s between you and God: You must forgive them.”
I can stand here – empowered by this story and by the Holy Spirit – and say to you this: We, Bethesda Presbyterian Church, can, and will, empower you to practice that power of forgiveness in your life. For we are a place where such liberation can occur. A place for healing, a shelter from life’s vengeful storm. Which none of our individual hearts, no matter how loving and pure and well-intentioned, could possibly provide.
I can’t forgive what he did to me. And I can’t forgive what she said to me.
I can’t forgive. Not by myself. Not … fully.
It takes a village. It takes this church. To truly forgive, we need all the help we can get. As Lewis Smedes writes – and this is scrawled across our Facebook wall this weekend – “Forgiving is love’s toughest work, and love’s biggest risk. If you twist it into something it was never meant to be, it can make you a doormat or an insufferable manipulator. Forgiving seems almost unnatural. Our sense of fairness tells us people should pay for the wrong they do. But forgiving is love’s power to break nature’s rule.”
Love’s power. The power for each of us to forgive. It takes the help of a church. It takes the help of this church.
Let it start in Worship – right here – right now. That it might pulsate right here. And we might practice it out there.
“As my Father has sent me,” Jesus said, “So I send you.”
Consider yourself so sent!
