Struggling to Open

April 11, 2021 • Second Sunday of Easter
John 20:19-31 (adapted from the New Revised Standard Version) &
“Yes, Pain is What’s Felt” by Karin Boye, translated by John Irons
Katie Reimer, guest preacher

The trauma and shock of Holy Week was the primary song in the air when the disciples received news that Jesus was still with them. Despite the news from Mary Magdalene that she had seen Jesus just that morning, the other disciples were still hiding behind locked doors that evening. And even after Jesus came to them and showed them his wounds, they still didn’t budge. A whole week later, they were still hiding behind closed doors.

Last Sunday, we sang triumphantly at the close of our Easter service:

Behold, behold I make all things new,
beginning with you and starting from today.

Do you remember the glory of that moment? Our choir sang triumphantly, and our music team led the singing together from our building for the first time in over a year. Our dancers filled this space with color and energy and motion.

Behold, behold I make all things new,
my promise is true for I am Christ the way.

And yet, despite the tremendously profound news of the resurrection...of the promise that God is making all things new...the disciples still confined themselves behind locked doors.

Today, we begin a new worship series that lives into this post-Easter season of renewal and possibility. A new worship series that dares to “sing a new song” out of the old devastation of a global pandemic, of white supremacy and of the climate crisis. A new worship series that exudes hope, and resiliency, and liberation.

The only trouble is...singing a new song is rarely simple. And singing a new song does not happen immediately. It is often risky, awkward, and disorienting.

The sight of Jesus after the crucifixion was the first fragment of a new melody that was coming to the disciples. A new melody that would alter their lives forever. A new melody that would alter the world forever.

And yet, a week after catching a glimpse of this new song - this triumphant, glorious new song - the disciples were lingering behind closed doors.

Today’s message will ask: Why do we struggle to open ourselves to God’s promise to make all things new? Why do we linger in the old song? And, what does it take to open ourselves to a new song?

The poem by Swedish poet, Karin Boye, gives us insight into the question of why we lock ourselves behind closed doors, even when new possibilities are unfolding before and within us.

She writes:

Yes, pain is what’s felt when buds burst open.
Why should spring otherwise choose to linger?
Why should the fiery heat of our desire
stay bound in what’s frozen, palely bitter?

The new song stays bound, hidden, and locked behind closed doors quite simply because it’s painful.

There’s a reason that we use the phrase “growing pains” to refer to the physical and emotional discomfort that children feel as their bodies and their feelings change and develop.

And growth is just as painful for adults as it is for children. Therapists of all types tell us that mental, spiritual, emotional and physical growth all involve pain.

And at this moment, the disciples were already dealing with a lot of pain from the trauma of watching their beloved teacher be executed by the state. Those closed doors were locked for a reason. They were a source of protection...a safe place for healing. The pain of opening to a new song...to the possibility of new life...was likely more than they could bear at that moment.

Yes, pain is what is felt when flowers burst open. Pain is what is felt when we grow into the new song that God is offering to us.

Karin Boye goes on. She writes:

The bud was so well hidden throughout winter.
What newness is this that’s so all-exposing?

If pain is one of the reasons we struggle to open to the new song, another reason is vulnerability. Singing a new song is all-exposing. It involves the loss of protection.

One of the new songs that God is calling us to sing is a world where white people no longer hold a place of supremacy in our society.

This new song of dismantling white supremacy means that white people need to take up less space. The feelings and the thoughts and the history of white people need to take up less space.

And this new song of dismantling white supremacy means that people of color need to take up more space. The feelings and the thoughts and the history of people of color need to take up more space.

This new song of anti-racism will be all-exposing. And it will be vulnerable.

So, pain and vulnerability. Are we starting to get a sense of why those disciples were locked behind closed doors?

Karin Boye illuminates one more reason that opening to a new song is difficult. She writes:

Yes, pain is what’s felt when buds burst open,
pain for what’s growing
and what’s now closing.

Singing a new song involves loss. It involves closure. And I suspect that this might be one of the biggest reasons we linger in the old song.

When we move towards the new song, we lose a part of our identity...the part of our identity that is wrapped up in the old song.

A playful example…

Going into this global pandemic a year ago, some of us...myself included...may have prided ourselves on not being “technology people.” COVID-19 has stretched many of us to become a little more tech-savvy than we were a year ago. We have had to sing the new songs of Zoom and Finale and Sibelius. To do this, some of us have had to let go of our “not technology people” identities.

Other more serious examples -

A person who always saw themselves as strong and independent may lose that part of their identity after a cancer diagnosis.

A family that welcomes a new in-law will involve the loss of the former family identity, and individual family members’ places in that family.

A person who recognizes and accepts their sexual orientation or gender identity might lose a spouse or a job.

A parent or a teacher or a mentor may have to let go of the perception that they have everything figured out.

Transitioning into retirement may bring the loss of a person’s sense of worth being tied to their work.

As we communally continue to face the climate emergency, we must lose the myth of unlimited economic growth, and the supremacy of human creatures.

So, back to that question - why were those disciples lingering behind closed doors? Why do we linger when presented with new possibilities?

Karin Boye’s poem suggests 3 reasons: Pain, Exposure and Loss.

Her poem helps us see more clearly why we linger in the old when God is making all things new.

With this deeper understanding, the next question that arises for me is: What does this story from John, Chapter 20, teach us about how to respond to ourselves and others when we are struggling in this liminal space between the old and the new song? What is needed to ease the pain? What is needed to encourage an opening to the new song?

Jesus comes to the disciples exactly where they are - behind closed, locked doors. And instead of scolding or shaming them for hiding, what did Jesus say?

“Peace be with you.”

“Peace be with you” - a phrase that would have been familiar and comforting to these human beings on the verge of a new song.

“Peace be with you,” Jesus says in this story. Not once, but how many times? Three.

How should we respond to ourselves and to others when we are struggling to open to the new song? The way of Jesus is to respond with words and gestures of tenderness and compassion. To take it slow. Not to rush.

What is it that coaxes a bud to open in the spring? The warmth of the sun. The gentle blowing of the wind. Compassion for the bitter winter that has just passed.

I think that taking time to think about how we will respond to this liminal space is important. Because too often, we shame ourselves for lingering, for resisting. We shame the disciples for locking themselves behind closed doors. We shame ourselves for our hesitation to embrace new songs that are being revealed to us.

We must let go of this shaming response to ourselves and to others. Instead, we must respond to our hesitating, lingering, resistant selves in the way of Jesus...with great love and tenderness and compassion.

And...at the same time that Jesus speaks words of comfort, he also makes it very clear what the disciples are being called into. Jesus says:

Receive the Holy Spirit.

If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them;
if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.

In Jesus’ response at this moment, we see gentle compassion, and we also a clear call into a new song.

We opened today’s service by singing

Cantate Domino canticum novum, Alleluia!

Sing unto God a new song, Alleluia!

Did you feel the gentleness of this melody? And did you hear the clear calling into the new song?

Let us hold onto both of these things as we live into the new songs God is calling us into.

Amen.

Copyright © 2021 - Katie Reimer
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