Trinity Parish Church - Easter 2A - March 30, 2008

John 20:19-31

The Rev. Rachel Endicott

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and redeemer.  Amen.

A week ago Tuesday, the Tuesday of Holy Week, I did something I've never done before.  As it was ten years since I was ordained a priest, I joined with other Episcopal and Lutheran clergy on that busy Holy Week morning to renew my ordination vows.  In between all the busyness of the day, I drove over to St. Mark's, finally found a place to park, and slipped into a seat in the church.  I settled comfortably alongside the other priests and deacons across from our bishops.  We came together before God, being reminded through word and prayer of the commitments we made at our ordinations.  I was reminded of my call to: love, serve, preach, baptize, bless, declare forgiveness and to celebrate.

Now along with the renewal of our vows, the bishops also blessed chrism.  Chrism is the oil used for anointing people when they are baptized.  To make chrism, one takes a simple base of olive oil and mixes it with fragrance, often the scent of balsam.  And on that day, the bishops took turns adding the fragrance to the large pitchers of oil, mixing the two together, then saying the prayer over the chrism.  As this was finished, one of the bishops slowly and visibly cupped his hands and breathed over each of the large clear pitchers.  In his doing so, he reminded us of the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, that comes upon each of us at our baptism.

Now as Episcopalians, we are a people who embrace symbols and signs.  This inclination shows up in many ways.  At Trinity Parish Church where I serve, we have bright red doors nestled into the dark grey stone, doors that are for us symbols.  Through the doors, representing the blood of Christ, one comes into community and a place of refuge.  The red doors are also signs of the active presence of the Holy Spirit, the flames of fire (not that I'd want to say that too loudly as the first two Trinity Parish Churches burned at the end of the 19^th Century and early in the 20^th)!  And so the doors represent sanctuary and the Holy Spirit in this place.

Our Book of Common Prayer reminds us that the sacraments are "outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace."¹  We are attentive to the signs in the Scriptures and we incorporate symbols in our worship together.  The actions that we do at baptism and eucharist, as well as the objects we use, become signs that point us towards God, towards the Trinity.

As Episcopalians, we are known for being a restrained people.  Although we incorporate symbols into our corporate worship, we do so subtly and with decorum.  For instance, as each person is baptized, the priest carefully marks the person's forehead with chrism in the sign of the cross as he or she says, "you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ's own for ever."  We have a sense of this mark - this outward and visible sign - carrying on long after the chrism has worn off and the pleasantly fragrant scent has gone away.  The grace which is given in baptism continues to sustain the individual, whether the person baptized is a two-month-old baby boy or 88-year-old grandmother of six.

Some years ago, I had the opportunity to go to the Holy Land.  While in Jerusalem, I was blessed with an invitation not only to worship with our Armenian brothers and sisters in that city, but also to attend a baptism in the Armenian Church there, part of the Orthodox Church.  Now in some ways the baptism was so like what I had experienced in my own branch of Christianity.  There was the child to be baptized, anxious parent and godparents, prayers sent heavenward, and copious water used to baptize the child.  The presence of God was palpable.

But in other respects, the baptism was exotically different.  The chants were unfamiliar to my Western ear and the private nature of the baptism in the ancient shadowy stone sacristy somewhat strange.  Furthermore, when it came to anointing the child with chrism - that reminder that he was marked as Christ's own - he was anointed liberally with chrism.  Now when I say liberally, I mean that he was marked not with the quiet decorum of the Episcopal service.  Rather, the child was marked not only on his forehead, but on his hands, feet, chest and it seemed just about everywhere else on his body, a body that was still naked from being brought out of the water of baptism.  And it seems to me that this effusive use of chrism, this lavish anointing, was a fabulous symbol of God's amazing and abundant grace given through the sacrament of baptism.

There are other outward signs that we do at baptism, signs that remind us of that inward and spiritual grace.  Central to baptism, of course, is being splashed, dunked or dipped in water.  The water reminds us of much that God has given us:

-         the life-giving waters of the world over which the spirit, the breath, swept at creation;

-         the waters through which the Hebrews, enslaved by the Egyptians, were delivered from slavery into freedom;

-         and even the water by which Jesus - as servant - washes the disciples' feet as he illustrates how we are to be servants to all.

At many baptisms, the individual baptized is given a candle, perhaps small and flickering, but nonetheless a candle which represents the inner flame of the life in Christ burning in them.

And it isn't only at baptism that we use signs and symbols to show inward and spiritual grace being given to us.  At Confirmation, the bishops' hands are laid upon us.  In marriage, rings are often exchanged and hands are joined at the time of the blessing.  During unction, sometimes referred to as last rites, anointing is often done.  At communion, bread and wine are the outward manifestations of Jesus' body and blood.  In each of these sacraments, we show outwardly something of that which is happening inwardly.

In the passage from John we heard today, we have the risen Jesus coming among the disciples.  And he comes with the ultimate grace, the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Although Jesus could just as easily have said, "Receive the Holy Spirit" and left it at that, he doesn't.  John tells us that Jesus breathes on the gathered followers.  He makes that breath the outward and visible sign of the gift that he is giving to the fearful disciples.

As a people, we need signs.  We need to see for ourselves the concrete, the visual.  In the reading today, Thomas is held up as the ultimate example of our very visual nature.  He has a need to see Jesus, even to see Jesus' gaping wound and the bloody marks of the nails where they have been driven through his skin, tissue and bone beneath.  Thomas is not interested in the proof of the reality of a ghost, but really in signs of grace.  He desires - as some have said - the "proof that the man Jesus lives...proof of continuity."²  He wants to see that which represents the ultimate grace which only Jesus, crucified and resurrected can bring. 

You have heard what the witnesses have indeed seen.  You have been bathed in the water of baptism.  If you were baptized as an Episcopalian, Roman Catholic, Orthodox or perhaps Lutheran, you have even been anointed with chrism - perhaps with the decorum of the Episcopal service or alternatively in glorious abandon.  You have been breathed upon and given life and breath.  You have been given the ultimate grace of salvation through Jesus' death and resurrection.  May you be filled with God's grace this Easter season and always.  Amen.

¹ Book of Common Prayer, p. 857.

²Abigail Ann Young (copied) in Synthesis, 3/30/2008.