A Sermon for the Salem United Church of Christ of Harrisburg, PA

by Rev. James Eaton, Interim Pastor ©2026

Second Sunday in Easter/Year A • April 12, 2026

John 20:19-32

When I was in college, and later seminary, a lot of my life was dominated by deadlines to write papers. I had a bad habit of putting off doing these until right before the deadline, so they were often late. My favorite professor was Dennis Duling, a New Testament scholar who taught my last class in seminary. I turned the final paper in a day late as usual; when I got it back, there was a big ‘A’ on the front and a note: “I’m not taking the usual points off for your usual lateness. You are about to learn there is no way to hand a sermon in late.” He was right and for most of my life, I’ve lived with the fact that on Sunday morning there is an absolute deadline. These days it’s 10:30 AM on Sunday. That’s it, no matter what else is going on, I have to be ready to walk in here, look out at all of you and say with conviction, “The peace of the Lord be with you.” There’s no excuse, no matter what else is going on, for being late. It’s not just me, either. Jacquelyn’s work as a flight attendant demands absolute timeliness. If she isn’t ready for a flight, the flight can’t leave. So it’s a very serious matter. She deals with it by being an hour early at the airport; I deal with it by going off to my office about five minutes early. How do you deal with staying on time? I ask because today’s gospel is the story of a man who was late for the most important moment in his life. Today we’re listening to the story of Thomas and the disciples and how Easter came to them.

There’s so much to hear before we get to Thomas. Just imagine the disciples’ situation. For perhaps three years or so, they’ve left their lives and followed Jesus, cared for him, accepted his care for them. He lifted them up in hope of a coming kingdom. Even when they were worried about the journey to Jerusalem, they followed along. They must have been amazed at the crowds entering the city. They must have wondered seeing him in the Temple, trashing the money changers. And they must have been scared when suddenly the soldiers appeared at Gethsemene and arrested Jesus, took him away roughly. They saw he’d been beaten, they saw the blood from the crown of thorns and they saw him gasping out his last breaths on the cross. They saw the death of Jesus; they felt the death of hope. 

Now they’re together and they’ve locked the door, the text says “in fear of the Jews”. This has nothing to do with Jews as a people; they’re afraid of the same authorities who arrested Jesus and sent him to the Romans, the only ones with the authority to execute him. They’re gathered for the funeral luncheon. The woman have told them a crazy story about seeing the Lord and an empty tomb, but they didn’t believe them. They believe in common sense: dead people stay dead. All you can do is grieve and get back to normal.

So there they are: you know how these things go, quiet conversations, food, no one eating much, people hovering around the family. Here there is the locked door; here is certainly the memory of their last supper a few days ago, perhaps a happy seder. Suddenly, Jesus appears. He walks through the door. I always wonder: does that make any noise? Does the door creak when he passes through it? There he is: alive. Wow. Did they all go silent? Did they drop plates they were holding? Imagine if you’d just taken a big bite of something, do you swallow? “Peace be with you,” he says. Shalom aleicham: the common every Friday greeting of shabby, what someone says at the beginning of the service. Yet so much more here.

He shows them his wounds. Isn’t that how we all connect? A long time ago, Jacquelyn gave me the most important advice I’ve ever gotten about sermons; “Don’t be the hero of your own story.” When I want to illustrate something for you, I deliberately show the times I failed, times I got it wrong. I want you to see my wounds because we are all wounded and when we see each other’s wounds, we know each other. They see his wounds: they know it’s him.

Don’t miss this part of the story running on to hear about Thomas, we’ll get to Thomas but stay here and see this. Jesus walks through a door, Jesus is alive, and he comes and the first thing he says is, “”Peace be with you.” I think today a lot of us are locked up in rooms for fear. We are careful talking about our politics, our religion, because it’s easy to give offense. So we lock up the doors but listen here: Jesus walks through doors. Jesus goes where everyone is excluded. Jesus comes even when we’re hopeless and sad and this is what he as to say first: “Peace be with you.”

That’s not all, though. He goes on to say that he’s sending them; he’s sending us. And he’s sending us just like the Father sent him. This is what it means to be the Body of Christ, that we are sent just like him, and our job is to forgive sins. In other words, to give peace to others, just as he gives it to us. You know, the church picked up on the last part, “…if you don’t forgive sins they are retained,” and used it as a fund raising tool. The only way to get forgiven is to come to us! But that’s not the gospel, that’s not the command; the command is to go out and forgive sins. The command is to go out and be Jesus to others.

We’ll talk more about this another time but I want to get on to Thomas. Remember Thomas? This is a story about Thomas. So the story is the whole group gathers a week after the crucifixion. Maybe they’re celebrating shabbat, maybe they’re just grieving. They’re scared of the authorities; they lock the door. But Jesus walks right in, says Peace be to you and then gives them a mission. But Thomas was late; Thomas wasn’t there. So a week later when he does show up, they all tell him, “We have seen the Lord!” Thomas pouts. Maybe he looks around, sees this group he’s spent so much time with, sees that nothing has changed. They’re still the same folks, the door is still locked. Thomas doesn’t believe them about seeing the Lord. Why would he? They aren’t out forgiving, they aren’t out being Jesus. They’re still in a locked room.

So once again Jesus walks through the door, once again Jesus says, “Shalom alchem—peace be unto you”. Once again he shows his wounds. Thomas touches them. And finally, Thomas says, what we all say finally: “My Lord and my God.” Thomas believes; Thomas receives the Spirit. 

We had a fine service last Sunday celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. Caleb and Joe and Carmen provided wonderful music. We got to sing those old familiar hymns, “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”, and a newer one, “Pass It On”. We heard the story, we listened to God’s Word. Now, what’s different? What did we do this week to show someone we know the love of God in Jesus Christ? Think for a minute: what did you do to show someone Jesus?

It’s a hard question, isn’t it? The simple humility of Jesus doesn’t match the angry moment in which we’re living. Many of you know we have a boat down in Baltimore. A few days ago, I was down there, staying overnight. There’s wifi in the lounge, I had a sermon to write, so I was there in the lounge, working away, alone and a guy came in and sat down, turned on the TV. 

Now all of us at the marina have boats in common, so there’s always something to talk about. But that night President Trump was speaking about the war he had started in Iran and he put that on. There was this long uncomfortable time while we watched silently, both of us afraid to say anything, to comment; we all know how angry conversations about politics can get. Finally, he said something not too off base, I replied, and we both relaxed and realized we were on the same side and then the conversation flowed. But we had to make sure we were ok first. 

That’s common today, I think. I didn’t show off Jesus that night. I just found a comfortable conversation. How do we move beyond those? We start with compassion. I have a favorite flight attendant story that doesn’t involve Jacquelyn, my personal flight attendant. It’s about a plane that lands late in Salt Lake City one night. You can imagine the situation: everyone’s tired, everyone just wants off the plane, arrangements have been disrupted, people are anxious. As the plane was rolling toward the gate, one of the flight attendants got on the PA. 

The flight attendant asked passengers to raise their hand if they were ending their journey in Salt Lake City, the flight’s destination. After most of the hands in the cabin went up, he continued.“Now, everyone who has their hands up: Imagine the anxiety you’d feel if you had to catch another flight tonight and weren’t sure you’d make it. Put your hands down. And now, those connecting to Palm Springs, and Denver, raise yours!” “Everyone, look around,” the flight attendant requested. “These are the people who’ll be sprinting off the plane tonight as soon as we land. Look at them, and imagine this was you.”

The flight attendant then implored everyone in the cabin who didn’t have a connecting flight to stay seated and give the other passengers space to get out as quickly as possible.

“If we all play our part, they can make it,” the flight attendant said. “Thank you so much for your consideration and help. Every one of those guys appreciates you for it.”The energy in the cabin completely shifted.

Everyone suddenly shared the same mission,” “We all knew who the people were that needed to hustle now. And we were all in it with them, feeling their adrenaline in our veins.”

When the plane landed only connecting passengers stood up. Others helped them with their bags. Afterwards, the remaining passengers patiently got up, grabbed their things, and exited calmly.

“The whole plane was rooting for them,” one passenger said.

It’s not much, is it? One plane, one group of people. But think how that compassion changed the moment for everyone there. Everyone landing on that plane wanted off as soon as possible; that flight attendant took their wants and transformed them into compassion.

That’s our job every day: to be the people who turn desire into compassion, who take pride and turn it into humility, who take guilt and forgive it and turn it into a new life. Last week, and the week before, I asked you to imagine asking Jesus, “What now?” Today we have the answer: go out and be Jesus, go out and forgive, go out and show the love of God every day. People are angry because they’re wounded; it’s our job to be the healers, the hopers, the helpers. At the very end of that reading in John, when he’s closing out the story, there’s one more thing we shouldn’t miss: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” That’s us.

The women go to the tomb, find it empty, tell the disciples the Lord has risen. The disciples don’t believe them. So Jesus comes to them in person to show them he’s alive. Thomas doesn’t believe it when they tell him, so Jesus again, says the same things, does the same thing. It’s the same for us: it’s never too late, Jesus just keeps coming, Jesus just keeps hoping that we will be his body, carry his Spirit, live the new life he means to give. 

Amen.