By now we all realize that the empty tomb wasn’t the end of the Jesus story. Not by a long shot! By now, two weeks after Easter Day, the Day of the Resurrection, by now we realize that the empty tomb was just the beginning, just the beginning of the Christ event. Despite the rumors that the chief priests circulated that Jesus’ disciples had stolen his body (Matthew 28:11-16); the resurrected Christ made several post-resurrection appearances. Yet, strangely, in these weeks after the discovery of the empty tomb, in these Sundays after Easter Day, after the resurrection of Jesus, our biblical stories tell us time and again of the disciples not recognizing the Lord. Last week we heard about Thomas, “Doubting Thomas,” and today we hear about seven of Jesus’ companions who are out in a fishing boat and “did not know it was Jesus” when he beckoned to them from the shore.
If those original disciples, those who had traveled with Jesus, those who had heard him teach and preach and saw him perform miracles, those who had been eyewitnesses to all he did and said on earth for three years, if they did not recognize him after his resurrection, if they didn’t know him, what hope is there for you and for me now? How – truly – how are you and I to know the Lord?
Set in the framework of such doubt and uncertainty, set in the context of the disbelief and fear which it would seem so prevalent, perhaps it is easier to understand today’s first lesson, the story of Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus.
Look at it this way. Here is Saul, a contemporary of Jesus; Saul could have met Jesus, Saul could have heard Jesus preach, Saul could have seen Jesus perform a mighty work; here is Saul, firmly set against this latest person people are claiming is the long-awaited Messiah. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Saul is fighting and railing against all that Jesus was and all that he promised. Why? Why? Because Saul was a good Jew; Saul was a Pharisee, committed to the Law of Moses, to the Torah, and Saul saw Jesus as profaning the law, as defiling the very foundation of Judaism. With all of Saul’s energy, all of his devotion, all of his brilliance he was devoted to stamping out what he perceived as a threat to his way of life, to his religious convictions.
But, you know, this wonderful, generous God of ours meets us right where we are. With Thomas who wanted to see for himself, the Resurrected Lord appeared and gently offered his wounds as the proof Thomas required. With the fishermen who are preoccupied with their daily routines and usual pastimes, our Lord first helps them increase their catch of fish and then calls across the water and invites them to have breakfast – two ordinary events. With Saul, as with some of us, God took a more dramatic approach. Scripture tells us:
NOW AS HE JOURNEYED [SAUL] APPROACHED DAMASCUS AND SUDDENLY A LIGHT FROM HEAVEN FLASHED AROUND HIM. AND HE FELL TO THE GROUND AND HEARD A VOICE.
With Saul, God decisively arrests his attention with a light from heaven and knocks him to the ground. Then, after identifying himself, for Saul was so stunned he did not even know it was Christ speaking to him, then the Lord tells Saul to get up and go into the city and wait for instructions. And to make sure Saul understands who is in charge now, God keeps Saul blind for three days. Imagine! This powerful, active firebrand blinded and told to wait. Wait. Wait for instructions. I imagine that waiting was the last thing Saul wanted to do. But, when God wants to take over a life, when God claims a servant, whether that be Saul or you or me, when God claims a servant, God sets the terms, God establishes the boundaries, God makes the ground rules. And, very frequently those terms, those boundaries, those rules are surprising, surprising and challenging.
Saul is a Hebrew name. As time goes by and he moves out of Judaism, out of the world in which he had grown up and lived, into the world in which God sends him as a missionary, Saul changes his name to Paul, which is Greek, not Hebrew. The risen Lord appeared to Saul, the murderer, to convert him, to transform him in order that he would spread the gospel throughout the world. Paul is called to be a light to the nations and to open the eyes of faith. He has encountered the Messiah in a blazing light and is himself a healed blind man. Paul went from being a highly committed Pharisee to being a highly committed follower of the risen Christ. In short, Paul switched sides.
What about you? What about me? How are we to know the Lord? What does God have to do to get your attention? How will you receive your sight? How often does God have to strike me down to get my attention, just as he struck down Saul?
We come together this morning in our blindness, in our certainty, in our fear and confusion; we come together longing to see the risen Lord. We gather, hoping for healing, wishing for a glimpse of God incarnate and God meets us right where we are. Scripture tells us that after “something like scales fell from his eyes and he regained his sight,” Paul did two things. First, he was baptized. Then, Saul took food and was strengthened. And so it is with each of us. As we gather at the altar this community encounters the risen Christ. The sacrament defines who we are and gives us our bearings. We recognize the risen Lord in each other and we know the risen Lord as we are fed. John’s Gospel tells us “They knew it was the Lord.”
The empty tomb is where faith begins. There is no ending. Once Christ has your attention, once the eyes of your faith are opened, what do you imagine God has in mind for your ministry? When God gives life he gives it forever. Paul took God’s love around the world. What about you? What about me? In my failure – when I have toiled all night and caught no fish, in my zeal, when I think I know what God wants me to do and I set out with a passion, I may not recognize the Lord nor be able to hear his voice. My prayer this morning is that God will get our attention and lift the scales from our eyes. Risen Lord, as you revealed yourself to the disciples and to the apostle Paul, be known to us in the breaking of the bread.