Gifts of Peace, Spirit, and Doubt
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago
The wise men traveled from afar and bestowed three gifts upon the infant Jesus: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. On Easter evening the resurrected Christ gave three gifts to the disciples to be shared equally with all humankind: peace, spirit, and doubt.
Of these gifts, of course, doubt gets a bum rap. Doubt is honesty. Doubt is a necessary part of faith. We live by faith, not certainty. God calls us to be people who listen, question, learn, and grow. Whenever you hear someone who has doubt disparaged, a red flag should go up.
Every year the joy and triumph of Easter are followed one week later by a very honest look at human grief, fear, and doubt from John chapter 20. The fearful disciples, still hiding in Jerusalem, are united in their grief. Jesus’ resurrection confronts the sadness and loneliness of Thomas’s doubt. Doubting Thomas, we call him. But our gospel never uses that word, not once. Thomas’s questions ring true and familiar to people down through the centuries and to us today. After all the evidence is in it still requires faith to follow the way of Jesus’ cross.
God gives permission to learn wisdom and humility from our doubts and failings, and not just to repress them out of fear. To reach the goal of Christian maturity it will be necessary for us to be immature. (Little Henry, who will be baptized today, didn’t hear that.) God is an expert at working with mistakes and failure. In fact, that is about all God does. Mistakes do not seem to be a problem for God; they are only a problem for our ego that wants to be perfect and self-sufficient. We first tend to do things wrong before we even know what right feels like. I am not sure there is any other way. (Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation series on Human Bodies)
Jesus gives permission to doubt. There are two other gifts Jesus’ bestows upon his fallible frail fledgling community. He gives them his peace. He infuses them with Spirit. Neither is quite what you’d expect.
Amazingly, Jesus bestowed peace on the disciples despite their betrayal and the crucifixion. Peace is the gift of reconciliation with God and one another. The gift of peace is like a multi-use tool. From peace, Christians learn how to wage forgiveness, mercy, compassion, solidarity, and companionship –fundamental tools for building and sustaining any healthy community.
The peace Christ gives is not just the absence of conflict; it’s also the presence of justice. Martin Luther King, Jr. once distinguished between ‘the devil’s peace’ and God’s true peace. A counterfeit peace exists when people are pacified or distracted or so beat up and tired of fighting that all seems calm. But true peace does not exist until there is justice, restoration, forgiveness. . . . Peacemaking begins with the transformation of ourselves by the gift of God’s indwelling spirit. But it doesn’t end there. We are called and equipped to be peacemakers in a world riddled with violence. That means interrupting violence with imagination and without judgment, on our streets and in our world” (Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals, Zondervan, 2012, Pocket Edition, pp. 58–59)
The gift of God’s spirit is what makes all this possible for us. It is the only thing that can.
Jesus came, stood among them, breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit”. In Greek, the word is ‘emphusao’. It’s the only occurrence of this word in the whole New Testament. It is the same word used in Genesis 2, where God breathed life into the nostrils of the man and he became a living being. It’s the same word used in Ezekiel 37, where God breathed life into the dry bones so that they stood on their feet and lived a vast multitude. It is Pentecost and creation rolled into one.
God’s urgent persistent will is incarnation. Human flesh is inspirited. The Divine Spirit is enfleshed. God is patiently determined to put matter and spirit together, almost as if each is not complete without the other. The Lord of life desires a perfect but free unification between body and soul. Amazingly, God appears willing to wait for you to desire and choose this unity yourself—or it remains unrealized. God never forces or dominates, but only allures and seduces. (Rohr)
We must reclaim the incarnation as the beginning point of the Christian experience of God. God’s gift of Spirit poured into human flesh should give us renewed and profound respect for human bodies. These frail earthly vessels in which we dwell are a privileged and holy place of encounter with the living God.
Jesus appeared to the disciples and showed them his wounds. Even in this wounded and wounding world we are able to share in the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4). Resurrection is saying something about Jesus, but it is also saying a lot about us, which is even harder to believe. “It is saying that we also are larger than life, Being Itself, and therefore made for something good, united, and beautiful…The problem is not that you have a body; the problem is that you think you are separate from others—and from God. And you are not!” (Richard Rohr)
On the evening of his resurrection Christ Jesus freely gave three powerful gifts to be shared equally among all humanity which the powers and principalities of this world, tragically often including even the church itself, have felt compelled to take away and lock up for safe-keeping ever since: the three ennobling gifts of doubt, peace, and spirit. Saint Irenaeus of Lyon, who lived about one hundred years after Jesus’ died, wrote a poem for us about the Christian life we share that he called, Capable Flesh.
The tender flesh itself
will be found one day
to be capable of receiving,
and yes, full
capable of embracing
the searing energies of God.
Go figure. Fear not.
For even at its beginning
the humble clay received
God’s art, whereby
one part became the eye,
another the ear, and yet
another this impetuous hand.
Therefore, the flesh
is not to be excluded
from the wisdom and the power
that now and ever animates
all things. His life-giving
agency is made perfect,
we are told, in weakness—
made perfect in the flesh.
—Saint Irenaeus of Lyon (c.130-c.202) Adapted and translated by Scott Cairns, Love’s Immensity: Mystics on the Endless Life (Paraclete Press: 2007), 5-6.