"where Jesus walks and breathes" by Kari Henkelmann Keyl

So everyone seems to know that Jesus once walked on water. It shows up in bad jokes all the time. But how many people have heard that Jesus also specializes in walking through bolted doors?

As far as I’m concerned, the first factoid, the one that everyone knows, is of little consequence. It’s a cool miracle he did one day. That Jesus walks right into locked-up-tight hiding places... now that’s HUGE.

Here’s the story. It takes place that first Easter day, some hours after Mary Magdalene talked with the risen Jesus: John 20:19-31  (Do me a favor, and when you read the first sentence, substitute the phrase, “fearful of the Jews,” for the phrase, “fearful of the Judean guys in power”; it’s truly a better translation, since Jesus and his disciples are Jews themselves. Thanks.)

So Jesus’ best buds have locked themselves inside. I suppose they’d rather not be crucified (guilt by association, you know), so it’s not so hard to understand. Who wouldn’t be terrorized by the events of the past few days? The fact that they’re scared doesn’t seem to bother Jesus either. He just walks in. He walks in with a breath of fresh air called forgiveness. He shows them his scars. Yes, it really happened, and yes, I really forgive you for not sticking by my side. And I’m hoping it feels so overwhelmingly good that you’ll bolt out the bolted door and give it out to the rest of the world!

A week passes and they haven’t bolted yet. Still hanging in lock down mode. Jesus is patient. He walks through the locked door again. It seems he’s come back for the lost sheep that wasn’t with the crew last time he showed: Thomas, the realist, the one with questions and a stubborn streak. But Thomas is also the one with eyes open wide, hands ready to embrace Jesus, wounds and all.

Score one for Jesus. Now the disciples are ready to get back into the world and spread the good stuff around. That walking through locked doors is a priceless talent. Good thing Jesus bequeathed this talent to his followers so we can do it, too. What are the doors that are closed in your face that you need to yank on? What are the ones that are closed so tight that you need Jesus to do it for you?

We all have fears that make us want to close off part of the world. We may imagine that God is with us in that safe, cordoned-off place, and it’s true. But God’s on the other side of the door, too. And it just may be that God is calling us to check out the other side, to step out and see God, living and active, breathing forgiveness and peace, where we least expect God to be.

That’s the God we see in Jesus, the “out there” God, who will keep surprising us, and will keep walking through locked doors to find us.

To give your imagination a ride into places you may not yet have imagined Jesus walking, give this  Kenye West video a try.

And some poetic thoughts from Nigel Weaver, to bring it all together:

The risen Christ, who walks on wounded feet
from garden tomb through darkened city street,
unlocks the door of grief, despair, and fear,
and speaks a word of peace to all who hear.
The risen Christ, who stands with wounded side,
breathes out his Spirit on them to abide
whose faith still wavers, who dare not believe;
new grace, new strength, new purpose they receive…
May we, Christ’s body, walk and serve and stand
with those oppressed in this and every land,
till all are blessed and can a blessing be,
restored in Christ to true humanity.

Feel free to come and take this discussion further in a virtual conversation on Skype, this Thursday, April 8, 7pm. Look for bythewaycommunity. All are welcome. Come as you are!

Whether or not courage comes... Jesus will

Come on into the Essex Room of the Crowne Plaza, to see a simple set-up: a circle of chairs with a small table completing the circle. On the table are some candles and a lovely ceramic goblet and matching plate holding a round loaf of bread. The people already there welcome you, and you all check in with each other about what your weeks have been like. You each find your way to a chair, and the group enters into the gathering with the lighting of the central candle and some words of settling prayer.

The first two readings of the night are part of the same story, from the book of the Bible called John, a story that takes place on that first Easter, in the evening, and continues one week later. Take a look at the first reading, imagine a candle being lit (better yet, light your own) and some words of prayer follow.
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2020:18-23;&version=72;

I can only imagine, O God, the exhilaration Mary must have been feeling as she ran to share the good news… Help me to get in touch with that feeling, God, that joy of knowing you are alive here with us, giving us peace… relief of stress with each breath… forgiveness for all the stupid mistakes we’ve made… forgiveness for all the ways we haven’t saved the world yet… forgiveness, peace, release. In your name we pray… amen.

There’s the same pattern for the next reading, part 2 of our story, with reading, candlelighting and prayer
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2020:24-31;&version=72;

Friend Jesus, how cool it would be to have you showing up in person, so we could see and feel your healing wounds… and feel our own wounds healing, too. Be present for us now, Lord, in the touch of each other’s hands, in the sharing of our woundedness, our realness.
Be present in the bread we eat, the wine and water we drink, the very air we breathe. In your name we pray… amen.

Some words of song form the third reading, printed below:

Lord Jesus, you shall be my song as I journey;
I’ll tell everybody about you wherever I go.
You alone are our life and our peace and our love.
Lord Jesus, you shall be my song as I journey.

Lord Jesus, I’ll praise you as long as I journey.
May all of my joy be a faithful reflection of you.
May the earth and the sea and the sky join my song.
Lord Jesus, I’ll praise you as long as I journey.

As long as I live, Jesus, make me your servant,
to carry your cross and to share all your burdens and tears.
For you saved me by giving your body and blood.
As long as I live, Jesus, make me your servant.

I fear in the dark and the doubt of my journey;
but courage will come with the sound of your steps by my side.
And with all of the family you saved by your love,
we’ll sing to your dawn at the end of our journey.

(J`esus, je voudrais to chanter, Les Petites Soeurs de Jesus and L’Arche Community; tr. Stephen Somerville )

Give us, Lord, such courage that comes with the sound of your steps by our side. Give us moments of courage to face our fears… that we might draw closer and closer to you. In your name we pray… amen.


The group talks about how this story is a familiar one to many, and often we think of this as just “Thomas’ story” and miss out on the pathos of the earlier characters… the exuberance of news-spreading Mary and the wild mix of feelings of those disciples hanging in the security-enhanced shelter. Joy and pain, fear and courage. They knew one witness had seen Jesus alive, but what did that mean for a bunch of followers who stopped following when the going got tough?

The conversation shifts to our own time and place as those gathered reflect on that mix of extreme highs and lows existing together… especially in relation to how sometimes a time of sad memories coincides with a really happy time… and how do we deal with that? Like when the anniversary of a death happens within a week of a birthday or a graduation day. It’s a challenge. It can be awful. But it can also be something we’re very intentional about: asking for support from others, giving ourselves permission to feel it all, highs and lows alike, welcoming God into the mix.

Then we get back to those disciples and their ambiguity about the news of Jesus being alive and well. We remember that Jesus doesn’t let locked doors (or hearts) stop him. He doesn’t let closed minds (or unbelieving suspicions) stop him either. He just comes.

It seems Jesus doesn’t care whether anyone “believes” he’s really alive. He just comes and gives them the experience of his aliveness: They see and touch his beat-up body. They feel the warmth of his presence as he breathes on them… and their lungs no longer feel like they’ve collapsed (as many who’ve been through intense grief can tell you about). Jesus doesn’t give them a lecture or offer explanations. He engages their senses and says: Relax. Breathe. Forgive. Heal. Know my peace.

The disinction between believing vs. experiencing is an important one. Believing/questioning/figuring it out. Experiencing/being/taking it all in.

Sometimes even when we can’t believe in God at all, we can experience God’s presence. Sometimes when we can’t sense God’s presence, we can still hang onto our beliefs. Sometimes we can’t do either one… and it’s at those times that we need community the most. Our experience of loving support can be that bridge to sensing God again.

There’s so much more that the group got into last Thursday. About Thomas and his dance of doubt, grief, and belief. About how the community of Jesus’ followers have both the gifts of “Word” (digging into words, question, and belief systems) and “Sacrament” (taking in God’s grace through our senses). And then as part of living that story of Jesus’ gifts, we shared the bread and wine that Jesus gave his followers and still gives us today. Passing around the moist, multi-grainy, honey-sweet bread that we all took a big chunk of… was a indeed a powerful experience of the sweetness of the life of faith in a God who reaches out again and again to us.

And having been fed, both physically and spiritually, we returned to the part of the story where Jesus blows his breath of life into the scared little group of folks. Not only does he breathe on them his aliveness, his spirit, his forgiveness; he teaches them how to help others experience that same aliveness. Go forgive. Breathe God’s life into others’ lives. Bring them home.

We then closed our time together by chatting about how we can be inviting others into this life of God we experience with the ‘by the way’ community.

I hope you’ve been able here to get a taste of that experience to feed you along your way.

In the peace Jesus gives,

Kari