Are Your Doors Locked?

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2nd Sunday of Pascha: Thomas Sunday
John20:19-31

We are all familiar with the story of “Doubting Thomas,” the disciple of our Lord Jesus Christ who was not with the others on the day of our Lord’s Resurrection from the dead, and so would not accept the testimony of the others that they had seen the Lord. No, Thomas wanted proof; and, of course, as we have heard in the reading today from the holy Gospel according to St. John the Theologian, it was on the Sunday following Pascha when Thomas himself saw the risen Christ, and knelt before Him, saying, “My Lord and my God!” But today, let’s look instead at the other disciples of our Lord.

Probably one of the most notable things said about them in this account is that on both occasions when our Lord appeared to them, the doors to the room in which they were gathered were locked. Why? We are told that the doors were locked “for fear of the Jews.” Their fear was the same fear that caused Peter to deny that he knew the Lord at the time of the arrest and trial of our Lord Jesus Christ. They feared that they, too, would be arrested by the Jews, would be accused before the Romans, and would be put to death as criminals and rebels. For this reason, they hid themselves, and locked the doors. Locked doors, of course, did not prevent our Lord Jesus from coming into their midst.

The disciples did not remain in a state of fear. Indeed, they went forth in boldness to proclaim in word and in activity that Christ is risen from the dead, that He has trampled down death by death, and has given life to those who were in the tomb. All of them except one, St. John the Theologian, came to suffer the very death that was the initial source of their fear; all of them except one were martyred because of their faith. If they had not overcome their fear, we would not have today the testimony to the life, death, and Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ; we would not have the knowledge of the good news of our salvation, of the forgiveness of sins, and the hope of life without end in the presence of God, if they had remained behind those locked doors.

What about us, who claim to be followers of the risen Lord? What about us who, in our baptism and chrismation, have received the Holy Spirit, as the disciples present in that locked room received from our Lord? Like them, we have been given the mission to tell the world that Jesus Christ is the Son of God Who died to set us free from death; that Jesus Christ is the King of Kings and Lord of lords, and that those who follow the way of life He has given us have the hope of a place of rejoicing in His kingdom. Are we going about our lives in the world making this good news known in what we say and in what we do? Or do we kept it to ourselves, locked in our hearts, because we are afraid of what people around us may say or do if we take the chance, and open our hearts to them, and tell them of the hope in us, the life of Christ?

Brothers and sisters, let us not allow fear of what others may think of us, or say to us, or do to us, keep us from doing what we are called to do. May God grant us grace and strength to go forth each day with the love of Christ in our hearts, so that we may show Him risen from the dead and living in us, so that others may come to know Him through us, and sing with us the triumphal hymn, “Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tomb bestowing life!”

Love and The Shipping News

Just finished watching The Shipping News, a 2001 film (yes, I'm a bit slow) starring Kevin Spacey, Julianne Moore, and Judi Dench. I missed the first few minutes of the film, which will give me an excuse to look for it at the local library, and so to watch it again. One aspect of the film that helped draw me in was that the music playing in the film was clearly Celtic in origin and influence; and many of the characters spoke with a faint Irish accent. I find myself growing increasingly more interested in the Celtic (and especially the Irish) background of our family -- but that's probably better left for another time.

More compelling were scenes in which small acts of kindness, not terribly significant in and of themselves, were, at a deeper level, profound acts of love. As the story unfolded, it also became abundantly clear how deeply human beings can be hurt -- especially by those who are closest to us, who should be foremost in love, not in wounding us. Spacey's character was wounded by death; Moore's by being deserted by an adulterous husband; Dench by a barbarous act she suffered as a twelve year old girl at the hands of her older brother, who was Spacey's character's father. By the end of the film, Spacey's character, known only by his family name (Quoyle), discovers that it is possible for a wounded man to heal.

The movie is far more profound and moving than I am able to convey. So, too, is its deeper message of love, betrayal, bereavement, and healing. I suppose that a part of what I am trying to say -- and maybe this will become more clear after I've had some time to process the film -- is that I was particularly struck by the power of the small acts of kindness to spread love to those who were in great need of being loved. Given that the message of our salvation arises from the love of God in Jesus Christ, and how we are to be ministers of the same, it would seem to me to merit some consideration each day: How may I/did I share God's love with someone else today?

A Lesson in Devotion and Obedience

Usually, I'm the first person to get out of bed in the mornings -- and that is definitely the case on Sunday mornings. After all, there are prayers to be said in preparation for receiving the Holy Mysteries of the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ; and, truth be told, a sermon to be written. Yes, I always intend to do that earlier in the week, but it seldom, if ever, happens that way.

The family dog is "family" in name only. She's my dog -- by her choice. Her name might as well be "Shadow," because when I'm home, she's my shadow, following me just about everywhere I go. One significant exception to this is when it's time for her to eat. If I don't put out her food bowl fast enough to suit her, she'll go around the house and awaken one of our daughters, who know that the only way to get any peace (and any chance of going back to sleep) is to feed the dog.

This morning, as I sat at the kitchen table, setting aside my medication and vitamins for the day (an every-day event), she started to head down the hallway in search of someone to feed her. I called her back -- and learned a valuable lesson. I called her to my side, and told her, "Down." She didn't want to listen -- I could tell from her body language -- but she did as she was told, and remained there until I left the table on the way to my office, with her following me there, as she usually does. Once in my office, the door being closed, those sleeping are no longer in danger of being on the receiving end of a cold wet dog nose in search of its breakfast.

This isn't the first time we've been through this scenario; indeed, during the week, it's my practice to close the doors to the bedrooms so that our daughters can sleep, while I'm fixing breakfast for my wife, so that she can sleep a few extra minuted before heading to work. But as I watched the dog struggle with her desire for food on the one hand (or paw, as it were), and obedience to me as the "leader of the pack/alpha male" (which isn't difficult when you're the only male in the household -- the fish don't count, nor do the birds), it dawned on me that she was modeling for me the way I should be in relationship with God: wanting to be near Him as often as possible, following wherever He goes -- and obedient to what He commands, even when my appetite tells me otherwise.

I have a lot to learn. But isn't it funny how the D-O-G has taught me something about myself and G-O-D...

In the Image and Likeness of God

The following video -- just a bit under a minute and a half -- shows an understanding of the Orthodox teaching on icons; and is a powerful call to action.



I need to keep this in mind the next time I'm driving... Isn't it amazing how easily we can get caught up in ourselves? Isn't it amazing how easily we can reduce others to being less important by what we think and do and say?

We also need to keep in mind that, while the word, "Orthodox" means, "right belief," the Orthodox teaching on "right belief" carries with it the charge of acting rightly (orthopraxis). All too often, it seems, that this "right practice" becomes a concern about whether or not we (or those around us in church) are appropriately attired, or are making the bows and prostrations and the sign of the Cross at the right times during the service, or have read all 27 ingredients on the boxed or canned or frozen food we're planning to buy, and putting it back because ingredient #25 of 27 is sodium caseinate, and so it is not "lenten"; the list can go on for quite some time. This is not at all to suggest that we should not be careful, and do our best to do these things. But we seem to think that God will judge us on how well we kept these types of rules, when the reality is set before us in the 25th chapter of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, and also the point of this video: "Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to Me." (Matt. 25:40)

FOCUS -- Fellowship of Orthodox Christians United to Serve -- can be found on the web, and on Facebook and Twitter.