A Song of Doubt and Joy

April 18, 2021 • 3rd Sunday of Easter
Reading: Luke 24:36b-48 (New Revised Standard Version)
Pastor Alexis Lillie

A piece of broiled fish. The story, as I experience it, takes a bit of an awkward turn here. We have the opening bit about fear and doubt, and Jesus showing that he is, in fact not a ghost. The disciples are caught in a mix of joy and doubt and Jesus... asks for food?? I love these random statements, seemingly out of left field. They make me pay attention. They make me wonder what the author is trying to say about Jesus.

There are a couple ways to look at this. First, the author of Luke is telling us something important: resurrected life is embodied existence. This undercuts the views of the afterlife at the time which tended to fall into two frames. In the afterlife you were either a cadaver brought back to life, or a free-floating soul.

Instead, the Lukan understanding embraces a Jewish notion of fully embodied existence in this life and the life to come. So it's important for Luke's Jesus to show a physical body, to show that he is "not a ghost," and to do something really basically human like asking for food.

The author of Luke is very concerned with responding directly to Hellenistic views, and holding Jesus' call to his Jewish community over / against beliefs passed down Rome.

The Lukan story, while it takes on many aspects of familiar ancient hero myth, has to deviate in crucial ways. This is one of those ways. It does not play into an ancient Roman understanding of the afterlife, but rather an ancient Jewish conception.

The other way to look at this surprise “I am hungry” statement flows from the first. This isn't really a random statement out of left field. The author of Luke is intentional in their portrayal of Jesus. And Jesus is intentional in how he responds to the disciples’ joy and doubt -- these two seemingly opposing emotions, that are difficult to sit in, and feel, and yet are very human.

He meets their humanity with his humanity.

When they persist in their mix of joy and doubt, he meets their human need with his own: "I am hungry." Jesus' need for food, to keep his body fed, this is the fully embodied way of being human that the author of Luke wants to highlight. And it is sacred.

By taking humanity on himself, Jesus continues to say, humanity is sacred. The process Jesus' followers are going through -- the emotional journey that leads them to feeling many things at the same time -- this is human, and it is sacred.

It's important to me that Jesus responds in this way. That he responds not by trying hard to convince them of his actual humanity, or talk them into a different way of feeling or believing. But rather that he perceives their mix of emotions and reacts in kind.

We are in the midst of learning to sing a new song. Katie led us so beautifully last week in a reflection on how to sing when we are in between songs, as I think many of us feel now, and as the disciples clearly felt then.

And our story today offers us another, parallel option, when the old song feels out of tune, but we haven't yet found the words for a new song. When we are sitting with swirling, seemingly contradictory emotions.

Jesus' interaction with the disciples invites us to consider: what if we just stayed with these feelings for a bit? The theme of sitting with what we're feeling has been coming up a lot lately in our scripture lessons, so that makes me think it might be important??

What if we just felt the contradiction - goodness, the sorrow; the hope, the uncertainty; the doubt and the joy; and labeled that our sacred humanity? What if we stayed with our complicated feelings and see what happens. Much of learning to sit and feel in these in-between spaces, for me has been

• 1). allowing things to rise up without giving into the impulse to push the down and

• 2). allowing seemingly incongruous things to exist together without trying to explain it away or try to make the two relate to one another.

We have opportunities on a daily basis to do this, not to mention writ large in our cultural moment, and in the struggles and traumas we're personally facing.

I think of examples just from this week. At the news of the death of Daunte Wright, I am feeling outrage, and sorrow, and shock, and yet not shock. At the news of a former colleague’s worsening brain tumor, I am feeling pain, and sadness, and hope in a strange way. All of this is happening within me, and I don't have to make it make sense.

This doesn’t mean that we aren’t doing anything!

In fact, for many of us, I imagine that witnessing our own humanity, our own capacity to feel, is actually hard work! And it's also not solely introspective. Because what happens when the disciples sit in their humanity? They are met with Jesus' own humanity -- his need -- and given a chance to respond to the need. To see his humanity.

Being in our discomfort can, at times, lead us to the next most sacredly human step. Instead of forcing or pushing our way through (which is sometimes called for!), we are led, by our own inner wisdom of the Spirit. Maybe one way that manifests is we're confronted by someone else's humanity, by them asking us for what they need!

Jesus does this. In seeing the disciples' human feeling, he responds by revealing his humanity and asking for what he needs, and they respond! They move into the next thing, which is an act of service for someone else. Out of their acknowledgment of where they are and what they're feeling, they are able to see and respond to someone else's need.

There is always a "next thing," a "new song," even when it feels like those notes will never come. When we feel like we are languishing, it can be important to reframe the premise – in this process we are not victims of the in-between, rather we are choosing to be here with our humanity, to see what arises.

The text today takes it one step further. Jesus interacts with the disciples on the level of their Spirit -- their emotions and feelings; and their Body -- by asking them to help him meet his physical needs.

Then he interacts on the level of their minds.

We are told that "their minds were opened.” I don’t know exactly what this is but it sure sounds intriguing. When I'm in the storm place, when I'm feeling conflicting feelings, I crave mental clarity!

Here we are again at my favorite refrain: "you have to go through it!" We have to go through the fog of our swirling emotions, to get to the place where we can recognize that in someone else, and respond whole heartedly to it. And beyond that, to get to a place where our "minds are opened" and we see things in a way we couldn't before.

I really hate it, but - as far as I know - there is no short-circuit for this. And I have really tried to find one!!

So, they say you save the best for last. What is the good news here?! We have to sit with discomfort. We have to feel our humanity. It's a long process! It will be hard work! UGH!! Isn't there supposed to be salvation in here somewhere?!

This is the salvation. Our humanity, our inability to short-circuit our journey, our capacity to feel, and to see one another's humanity by seeing our own -- this is what saves us. The focus is not what we are saved FROM, but what we are saved TO. We are saved not FROM our humanity (like the Roman view of the disembodied soul would have you believe), but saved in order to become more fully human (like the Jewish belief that Jesus reflected).

Which in turn allows for your humanity, and your humanity, and our communal humanity, that all of us may have our minds open to new possibility, new songs.

Open to consider the embodied reality of our sacred humanity.

AMEN.

(c) 2021 Alexis Lillie
All rights reserved.