Sacred Wounds

Luke 24:34b-48

While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”  They were startled and frightened, thinking they saw a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.”  When he had said this, he showed them his hands and feet. And while they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement, he asked them, “Do you have anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence. He said to them, “This is what I told you while I was still with you: Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms.” Then he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, “This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.

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When I was in high school, I worked part-time at a garden center. During the holiday season, we would assembly wreaths using freshly cut greenery, and we would decorate them with ribbons and other ornaments. It was a fine job until the day I remembered trimming some of the greens and noticed something dripping on the ground. Apparently, I cut myself with a sharp pruner and had to wrap it tightly in gauze. Looking back, I should have probably gotten a couple of stitches, but I still have my finger, so things worked out okay, I guess. To this day, I can still feel the scar this accident left, a reminder of a potential tragedy. Today, we hear of Jesus who bears his own scars to the disciples, scars that remain even after his resurrection. So what, if anything, should we make out of the fact that Jesus appears to his disciples with the wounds of his crucifixion still present? 

Maybe the marks of the cross left on Jesus' body aren't shocking to you. After all, this story of Easter resurrection is a narrative that we have shared through the eons. Yet stop and think for a moment about the significance of Jesus reappearing to the disciples with the scars of humanity's sins and unfathomable depravity still engraved on his body. If you really stop and think, doesn't it seem odd that they are still present on Christ's body? I, and maybe you, thought that the resurrection was the renewal of what was broken to what is perfect. But that's not the case; there are still remnants of blood and sore, which is perplexing or maybe reassuring? Reassuring that the resurrection hope we profess doesn't wipe clean or erase the stories, wounds, and pains that define our growth and reformation and spiritual growth. And indeed, this reminder of a perplexing resurrection hope is what we need as we find we are in the midst of a world that continually faces such deep-rooted scars in our communities. 

We don't have to do a lot of digging to discover evidence of scars close to home. On one front, we feel the pangs of grief from the string of recent mass shootings and senseless loss of life. How will we work to transform those scars in our sacred work of being an Easter people? And how will we carry on in that same ministry in confronting the rise in hate crimes and our failures to see the inherent value within every one of us? On another front, we come face to face with the scars or wounds in our own lives: abusive relationships, feelings of distrust, struggles with alcohol or drugs, self-inflated egos, greed that comes at the cost of human connections, the list can go on and on. Maybe that's why Jesus appears to the disciples, still with the pierced holes in hands and feet and side. It was a message that the resurrection hope; the resurrection life is not about making a perfect world or perfect versions of ourselves but forming a genuine and authentic identity rooted in our commitment to follow a God who holds our pain and joy together to create something new. 

I believe that's the point that we're meant to carry with us this Easter season. That point being that the Easter message of hope and resurrection is not about perfection; it's about processing and working with the sacred wounds and stories that make us the beloved children of God. Erasing signs of our pain and the pain we inflict on others does not lead us to the community God intends for us. These markers serve as reminders of the Easter hope that we and others have poured our blood, sweat, and tears into bringing about, as God's beloved people. As we take in the events of the past week and the senseless loss of human life, let these things serve as catalysts that spark and feed our work as disciples. Let not these cries of grief go unheard; let us see them as scars that direct our eyes to the heavens and our redemptive work that utilize our various gifts to proclaim the ongoing Easter message of restoration and healing. 

Perhaps the process of working through our scars and Easter ministry of restoration and healing begins with a meal. After all, Jesus asked the disciples if they had any food, and then they sat and broke bread together. Or we might try looking within ourselves. Take stock of the things that have been life-giving, setting boundaries with the things that aren't, letting go of the unnamed things that eat away at our soul, and refreshing our understanding of what it means to follow the God of life. There are also ways for us to begin the healing of scars within our communities, the calling to be advocates, healers, listeners, educators, caretakers of creation, and repairers of the breach. All of this falls under the beauty of our Easter resurrection. Wounds and scars may still be wounds and scars, but through the lens of Easter, we might understand them better as tapestries that tell the tale of our co-laboring with the risen Lord as we transform the pains that lie within ourselves, our neighbors, and the pains we inflict on one another. 

That is the type of Easter hope I'm looking for this year. And I believe it's the kind of Easter hope that Jesus desires for us as well. To embrace the patchwork of our lives that contains the greatest happiness we have ever known alongside our greatest disappoints and sorrows. The sacred wounds of Christ brought healing, brought new life, and created a space for us to do the same for ourselves and others. And as the famous thirteenth-century mystic Rumi would say, "The wound is the place where the light enters you." Amen.