Fear
and shame hang heavily over the scene in the upper room. The apostles have much
to regret. Everything’s just about fallen to pieces, and now they’re hiding
out. And then very quietly Jesus sneaks in to be with them. “Peace,” he says,
and they are filled with joy. Jesus is neither boastful nor grand but almost
shy and self-effacing. The very unpretentiousness of his presence is
overwhelming. Jesus is obviously very physically present - disarmingly
familiar to them - but also totally Other. He walks through the door and shows
them his wounds, the deep scars in his body. The wounds confirm his “drastic
physicality,” it’s really Jesus alright, but there is also mysteriously
something much more. The apostles are filled with joy and utterly
bewildered.
At
this point we can imagine all the things Jesus might have said to them: “You
fled. You left me. You denied me. How could you?” But he’ll have none of that.
He simply breathes on them his own Spirit, the Spirit of forgiveness. And he
says, “Peace.” No recriminations, just his warm breath, his peace and the
instruction to forgive - to forgive even as he is forgiving them. Jesus’
resurrected presence allows them, first of all, to grieve the loss of their
identity as perfect disciples and forgive themselves for all they have failed
to do. And so he shows the apostles his wounds, for it is from this place of
woundedness and vulnerability that they like him will be able to forgive
others. Without vulnerability grace cannot happen,* without vulnerability
any forgiveness we offer will be only cosmetic. Jesus has returned as the
forgiving victim.
Photograph
by Brother Brian. *from notes given by Dr. Patricia Kelly.