It is the evening after the resurrection, and all but one of the disciples are gathered together in a shadowy room. The door is bolted tight because they are scared stiff that the ones who seized Jesus will seize them next, and every sound they hear -the creaking of the house, the stirring of air through the trees, a dog barking, a noise in the street - becomes for them the dreaded sound of footsteps on the stair. If they speak at all, you can imagine them speaking almost too quietly to hear. The room is small and crowded and the air acrid with the smell of their fear. That morning just after dawn Mary Magdalene told them that she had seen Jesus alive again…but they hadn’t seen him…and he wasn’t here now when they needed him.
Then suddenly, he was there speaking words of peace. But they were too stunned to understand what they had heard, even to know who had spoken. Not until Jesus showed them his hands wounded by the nails, and his side that had been pierced by the sword, did they recognize him. Only then did they rejoice. (excerpt paraphrased from ‘The Seeing Heart’ in Secrets in the Dark by Frederick Buechner)
But Thomas is not there among them. The words of the disciples are not enough for Thomas to believe that Christ is alive. "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."
A week later, Thomas is with the others, shut up in the same room. And once again, Jesus suddenly appears with words of peace. And to Thomas in particular, Jesus says, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." And Thomas recognizes the risen Christ and exclaims, "My Lord and my God!"
What catches my attention in these encounters is the way in which the disciples finally recognize the risen Christ. It isn’t a golden halo on his head, it isn’t a blaze of glorious light surrounding him, it isn’t an angelic chorus of alleluias - it’s the marks of the nails in his hands and the scar in his pierced side that open their eyes to see the him. Clearly, the writer of John’s gospel is telling us that the risen Christ is known by his wounds and scars. The risen Christ is the same one who reached out to touch and heal the sick and wounded. The risen Christ is the same one who was wounded, tortured and crucified. In his rising to new life, the scars of Christ’s wounds do not disappear. In rising to new life, the memory of his suffering and agony is not forgotten.
All the gospel accounts agree that the risen Christ is the wounded, suffering Christ, and so if someone should come to us with a story about a Saviour who hasn’t suffered or who promises us a spiritual path free from suffering, chances are it’s not the risen Christ of the gospels. If we, like the disciples of long ago, yearn to see the risen Christ and to experience his presence in our midst, we would do well to look for him among the wounds and the wounded this world.
Henri Nouwen was a priest, theologian and writer who captured my attention 30 years ago when I was in theological college. I remember that at the time I was struggling with the efficacy of prayer - did my prayers really make any difference? What should I be praying for and about? Someone put into my hands, a book on prayer by Nouwen called, With Open Hands. To this day, I still turn to Nouwen’s book for strength and guidance in prayer.
One of Nouwen’s most well-loved and most read books is called The Wounded Healer. It was written for people who chose a vocation of leadership and service in Christ’s name. Nouwen calls upon those with such a vocation to admit and to recognize their own suffering and wounds and to make that recognition the starting point of their life of service. Henri knew of what he wrote, for of course, the book was a reflection of his own life.
Henri was born in Holland in 1932, into a family of wealth and privilege. He became a Catholic priest in his 20s and left Holland to train as a clinical psychologist in the USA.
From there he went on to teach in prestigious universities like Notre Dame, Yale and Harvard Divinity Schools, continuing to write and lecture in many parts of the world. Throughout this time, and indeed throughout his entire life, Henri struggled with his own woundedness, often suffering from bouts of severe depression.
A chance meeting with Jean Vanier, the founder of L'Arche, an international movement of communities that welcome people with disabilities, inspired Nouwen to spend a year writing in the original L’Arche community in France. He felt at home there and in 1986 accepted an invitation to become pastor for the L'Arche community of Daybreak in Richmond Hill, just north of Toronto. That meant that Nouwen gave up his autonomy and privacy as a professor, lecturer and world-famous writer and went to live side by side with those people whom many in our world would eagerly shut away forever.
It was in this community and among these people bearing the wounds of physical and mental disabilities that Jean Vanier finally felt that he came home to dwell with the risen Christ.
Adam, God’s Beloved, is a book Nouwen wrote Adam, a man whom Nouwen cared for at L’Arche. Adam was 25 years old; virtually helpless, he could not speak or move without assistance and suffered from frequent seizures. It was Nouwen’s job to get Adam up in the morning, to bath him toilet him and dress him for his day program. It was in caring for and living with this wounded man that Nouwen found healing and hope. In his own words, Nouwen wrote:
Adam’s heart, so transparent, reflected for me, not only his person but also the heart of the universe and, indeed the heart of God. After my many years of studying, reflecting, and teaching theology, Adam came into my life, and by his life and his heart he announced to me and summarized all I had ever learned.
In Adam, Nouwen saw the face of the risen Christ; for in dwelling with and tending to Adams suffering and wounds, Nouwen mysteriously experienced the wounded Christ’s gift of healing and meaning in his own life.
Like Henri Nouwen, if we want to see the face of the risen Christ in our midst, we will not find him unless we dare to look for and touch the wounded places and peoples in this world. For in his dying Christ bore the wounds of the world and in his rising, this wounded saviour came among us to bring healing and hope to a wounded world.
And we will not find the risen Christ if we turn away and ignore our own wounds and pain. For to recognize and to have life in Christ is both to participate in his reconciling and healing work in the world and in our own lives.
For the good news of the resurrection is that as we reach out to touch and tend to the wounds in this world, we will discover the risen Christ among us. We will discover that he is there bearing the pains and wounds of the world; showing us the way of healing and reminding us that as his companions, we never need hide our own wounds, scars and brokenness.
And as a congregation, as the body of Christ, isn’t that what we are about?
Week by week we gather here for worship in the company of Christ, not to offer up righteous, perfect, flawless lives, but to offer up lives that are messy and muddled, scarred and far from perfect. And we know that in the company of Christ, we are empowered to become a community - Christ’s body of wounded healers.
- And so we offer up prayers, food and companionship to those who are wounded with grief, worry and pain.
- We create a welcome place and community for those who are wounded by loneliness and rejection.
- We seek to reconcile and build peace with those wounded by hurtful words and actions.
- We are involved in ministries of outreach and hospitality in the community among those bear the wounds of hunger, inadequate social services and affordable housing.
- Today, some of our congregation are gathering in Toronto at an event geared for faith communities to explore the work of tending to the wounds of a creation that we have exploited and polluted.
- And as part of the larger church network we seek to do Christ’s ministry among those wounded by war, disease and abject poverty.
And in these ministries as we touch the wounded people and places in this world, we touch the Risen Christ, who reaches out with his healing hand to touch us in our own places of pain and suffering.
This is the life Christ shares among us; this is the life we have in Christ’s name.
An old Celtic prayer has been included in our Voices United Hymnbook. I’d like you to turn to #349 now and join with me as offer this prayer as a blessing to one another.
May the Christ who walks on wounded feet
walk with you on the road.
May the Christ who serves with wounded hands
stretch out your hands to serve.
May the Christ who loves with a wounded heart
open your hearts to love.
May you see the face of Christ in everyone you meet,
and may everyone you meet
see the face of Christ in you.
