SERMON, EASTER 2C, JOHN 20:19-31

It doesn't feel like it was that long ago that I preached on this gospel. Maybe it's because we hear this passage every year. Maybe it's because I've heard countless sermons on this particular passage. Maybe it's because the Gideon visitation is still fresh in my memory. But, believe it or not, it's been longer than you think.

Ten of the disciples are gathered together after the crucifixion, hiding away in a house, when all of a sudden Jesus appears amongst them and they all believe; all except Thomas because he wasn't there. The following week Thomas is there, and because of that timeline we get the famous story about "doubting" Thomas. You have to remember, though, that the other ten were really no different than Thomas. They didn't believe at first either. Mark, Luke and John agree that all of the disciples doubted the resurrection (except for the beloved disciple). When they were informed of it by the women, they thought it was just another idle tale conjured up by emotional females. So they are really no different than Thomas. We need to remember that.

Doubting can be a good thing. It is through doubting and questioning that one's faith is challenged, deepened and strengthened. That particular topic of faith and doubt is a sermon all by itself. If you've been an Episcopalian for any length of time, or have been part of any parish that follows the lectionary, you have heard just as many sermons, or more, as I have about that topic on this Sunday; because, as I said, we always get this gospel on the second Sunday of Easter every year. And when we move to the RCL next year, we will continue to get this gospel every second Sunday of Easter, every year.

So for something a little different, I want to look at John's version of the Great Commission. The most famous version, of course, is from Matthew, "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit."

The longer ending of Mark says, "Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation" (along with something about speaking in tongues, handling snakes and drinking poison). And Luke-Acts has several verses of commissioning the disciples to proclaim this good news.

But in John, however, this Great Commission is almost overlooked. The disciples are hiding out in a house. The doors are locked. Suddenly Jesus appears among them and says, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." And that's it.

As the Father has sent me, so I send you.

What does that mean? What does that look like for us? For starters, how about proclaiming the good news to the poor, prisoners and oppressed. How about welcoming the outcast, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, offering forgiveness to sinners. Or maybe it means actively seeking out those who are lost and inviting them to find and be found by God.

Jesus came not for the righteous or the pure or the holy. Jesus came for the lost, the outcast, and the sinner. He wasn't looking for people to prove their worthiness; he was looking for people to be open to change. He ushered in the kingdom of God through invitation, not through "turn or burn" scare tactics.

As the Father has sent me, so I send you.

Jesus invited everyone to the banquet. If he was sent to invite people into God's kingdom, then we are being given the same commission. How are people "out there" going to learn about this thing called Christianity, and why it's important, unless we invite them? Sitting in your pew once a week isn't going to cut it. We have been sent out by Jesus to invite people to join us. If they refuse, that's not our problem; but we need to give them the opportunity to choose.

As the Father has sent me, so I send you.

What else? Well, this isn't a popularity contest. Advocating for the rights and benefits of the outcast, poor and homeless, and justice for the prisoner and marginalized is often unpopular. Standing up against human rights abuses and saying, "This is morally wrong," can get you into trouble; especially if that means taking a stand against your government. We are called to respect the dignity of every human being and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Not just fellow parishioners. Not just those who dress nice. Not just the Canadians or Europeans. Everybody. Including those with whom we, as a country, are at war.

Jesus welcomed the outcast, the sinner and the Other. In doing so he upset the status quo. He went against the political and religious leaders of the day. He was deemed a threat to the nation and to the very fabric of society. And for his radical inclusiveness and unorthodox ideas, he was crucified.

See the nail marks in my hands and put your hand in my side. As the father has sent me, so I send you.

Christianity can be a dangerous business. Proclaiming inclusiveness and justice can open you up to a whole mess of attacks by those in power and those who feel threatened by something or someone new. But we are called to do just that. We are called to invite and include the outsider. We are called to proclaim the gospel. And we are sent into that same dangerous world that Jesus was.

So . . . live dangerously -- invite someone to church.

Alleluia! Let us go forth in the name of Christ!