[Acts 4:32-35; i Jn. 1:1-2:2; Jn. 20:19-31]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
The choir sings Breathe on me, Breath of God, verse 1:
- Breathe on me, Breath of God,
- Fill me with life anew,
- That I may love what Thou dost love,
- And do what Thou wouldst do.
There are two narratives in the New Testament about the Holy Spirit descending upon the disciples and both aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.
One is a very exciting story of wild winds and tongues of fire rushing in at Pentecost, breaking down language barriers and psychological barriers and literally blowing the apostles out the door, out of their self-pity and mourning for Jesus, into the world, preaching, teaching and healing, proclaiming the message of the Good News, as Christ had commanded them to do.
In six weeks time, on 20th May we’ll be celebrating those events, hopefully just as inspired and as enthusiastic as the disciples did.
The second narrative is that which we’ve heard just now; our Gospel reading this morning is much more restrained, calmer; compared to Acts chapter 2 it’s almost an anticlimax, a bit bland without the ‘special effects’ of the Pentecost story.
But to the disciples it was perhaps just as -if not more- unexpected, more mind-blowing, more of a kick up the backside to stop huddling together inside the house with closed doors and get out in to the world that desperately needed -and needs!- to hear that message of hope, faith and love.
He breathed on them.
Next to the foot washing on Maundy Thursday, this is probably one of the most intimate images between Jesus and his disciples we can possibly find.
It’s a life giving act, a creating act, just like when God breathed the divine breath in to Adam at the very beginning of humankind.
The risen Lord breathes a second life, a renewed and recreated life in to the apostles.
It’s the breath of life, that wind, that Spirit over the waters of creation, that parted the waters of the Red Sea so the Hebrew nation could enter freedom, the Spirit that blesses the water at baptism where we as sinners are born to new life in Christ and in his Church.
A breath isn’t exactly tangible but you can feel it and it’s very close, very personal, like a parent blowing onto a chafed knee or a grandparent blowing over the hot soup to cool it, even like the whisper in the ear of a lover.
It’s a very gentle act, an act of care and concern.
With it, at every appearance, Jesus proclaims his peace, gentleness, balance.
It’s like Jesus wants to make sure that the disciples will be alright after he’s returned to the Father. It’s as if he’s saying, also to us here today:
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be okay, things are going to be okay, you won’t see me, you won’t be able to touch me anymore but you’ll still be able to feel me very close to you, as close and as intimate as your own next breath. Without breath you cannot live, I rose from the dead to give life to all things, to make all things new.’
He breathed on them.
The choir sings verse 2:
- Breathe on me, Breath of God,
- Until my heart is pure,
- Until with Thee I will one will,
- To do and to endure.
When we feel like drowning, gasping for air, overwhelmed by sadness or feelings of depression and hopelessness. When we feel there’s no forward, only rewind, back to old bad habits, back to a numbing routine, without growth and improvement. When we feel as if our breath is being squeezed out of our lungs, so restricted. When we feel nailed right back on the cross, when our body is a burden, friends and family seem absent or just plain uncaring. When it seems no solution is forthcoming, no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. When we feel like the only way is down, back in to that cramped claustrophobic space -of our own making or because others have pushed and shoved us there- back in to the coldness and lifelessness of a tomb.
Then at every time Christ breaks the bonds of all that could possibly chain us in a place of stagnation, of loneliness or -the opposite- of overcrowding.
Christ’s Resurrection at Easter means that there’s no situation or location where light cannot penetrate.
Life saving breath like mouth to mouth when someone is pulled from the water.
Close your eyes and listen for a moment or two to your own breath...God is there.
And it’s not just about ourselves.
We’re called to help those who are suffering, those who have had their breath knocked out of them, sometimes literally.
Will we come to the aid of those who are drowning in sorrow, in debt, in discrimination and persecution, those whose lives are considered not worth a single breath.
Do we rejoice together with people when Easter becomes a life changing event for them also, when the power of the risen Lord enters their lives and a wonderful recreation happens.
Or are we part of the crowds nailing them to the cross because of education, class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, creed and so much more.
Do we suffocated others or let them be suffocated?
Our world is full of people gasping for air, for justice, for peace, for acknowledgment.
We Christians live by the very breath of the divine, how could we possibly ever deny it to others!
That’s not what Christ told his disciples -on the contrary- he showed Thomas his hands and side to reveal to them the marks of salvation, the signs of life and life eternal.
He breathed on them...and on us...and on all those around us.
The choir and the congregation sing together verses 3 and 4:
- Breathe on me, Breath of God,
- Till I am wholly Thine,
- Until this earthly part of me
- Glows with Thy fire divine. /
- Breathe on me, Breath of God,
- So shall I never die,
- But live with Thee the perfect life
- Of Thine eternity.
Amen.