What’s the Good News for front-line workers?

Sermon on John 20:19-31

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

There he is again. Thomas, our Easterly friend. Every Sunday after Easter we read about him. The one that missed out on Jesus when the risen Lord first visited his friends on the very first Easter Day. When Jesus just stepped into the locked house and stood among them, saying “Peace be with you”. And without any further questions he showed them his hands and his side. And the friends finally got it that this was the risen Jesus for real. So, they were all happy.

Only one friend had missed out on that revelation. Thomas.

Because Thomas was not with them. While the other friends were locked in their houses for fear of the authorities, Thomas was out and about. To do what?

Thomas, the front-line worker, making sure, that his friends had what they needed to survive.

Today, he would maybe be an Instacart shopper on whom people rely. A man who goes shopping for others and gets paid so little he has to work as much as he can.

Maybe he would deliver food to shelters, making sure 100s of people get fed. Those ones that are now behind a wall to prevent the virus from spreading. He flashes up heart signs and says, ‘I love you’ through the wall. He might cry, but not because of fear. Because of love going on in this whole thing. Not for a minute Thomas considered to stay home.

Maybe Thomas would serve people at a Food Bank, starting off at 7 am and the line is already going down the sidewalk with people waiting in line for food. And he sees the elderly out there with their carts, and a mom with kids and they are standing in line at 7 in the morning… He has never seen anything like this. And he wonders: “What do we have available? How can I make it stretch? Most people who show up have never been to a food bank, they think it’s a soup kitchen. People are shocked when they realize they are getting a basket to take home of supplies for the whole family. 

They see the basket and say, “This is all for me?” Not only is Thomas feeding his family by working, but the families that are in line are feeding theirs. It’s an awesome feeling. He says: If I get sick it would have been for a good cause.

Maybe Thomas would be a cafeteria lady serving kids at the school cafeteria of a closed school. But the kids still need to get their meals. And if a family is really in need, the adults will get a meal as well. Her daughter is afraid for her, she says: You are older, older people are dying. But she is like “nah. Jesus was a server. That’s my purpose. That’s why I’ve been in this business 26 years. Most people look at us as the cafeteria staff, I look at it as a service.  It’s an honor for us to serve those kids.”

These are just some stories of every-day heroes right now, I read about in the Times. Different people, men and women, serving their communities despite the fear and death that might await them.

Thomas, the front-line worker, making sure, that his friends had what they needed to survive. When he came home after a long day of work, he knocked at the door 5 times. Long, long, short, short, long. Their secret signal. He heard how they removed the 5 locks from the inside, how they moved the heavy chest away from the entrance to let him back in.

And then he saw their eyes: Shiny eyes, totally excited. “Sit down”, they told him. “We have to tell you something quite unbelievable.” Thomas sat down and waited for the great announcement. Who was going to break the news to him? Eventually, Peter shouted out: Jesus was here. Right here, in the middle of the room. He looked totally real and talked to us and everything. He is actually risen. We saw his hands and his side. The women were right. Jesus is risen.”

Thomas heard the news, he saw the joy in their eyes. But something didn’t make sense. If Jesus is risen, why are they still hunkered down in their house? Why are the doors still highly secured? Why are they still shaking with fear when hearing anything unexpected? Why are they still not leaving the house?

“We are all in this together”, the friends tell Thomas. While you were busy Jesus visited us and we saw him for real, so you have to trust us. 

“Sure”, Thomas thinks. “Sounds great. But then, why aren’t you helping me at all? Why isn’t the food ready when I come home from work? Why do I even have to go out and can’t just stay inside with you? Because my work is so essential for your needs? Because you couldn’t be where you are without me? No, friends. We are not in this together. You are safely waiting in your house and I am out in the streets, endangered to be captured or worse.”

“We are all in this together”, they say and mean: You are working for us to be safe. Their actions don’t match their words at all.

Thomas is street-smart. He knows how to tell the truth apart. So, he decides to wait for Jesus to visit him, too. It just seems to be fair.

A week later, his friends still are shut in at home. Still waiting for a new normal that should really feel like the old normal. Yet, it doesn’t seem to start.

And again, Jesus enters the room without knocking. He just is there and says “Peace be with you.” 

Jesus comes right through our shut doors into our homes, offering his peace. He doesn’t wait for us to be all prepared and ready and set. At least, that’s the Easter lesson I learned this year: That I am not causing Jesus Christ’s resurrection with my coloring the eggs and baking the Easter bread and hiding sweets. 

Sounds like a banality. I know and yet, it’s easy to mistake our holiday preparations and getting into the spirit with God’s actions. I truly wondered whether Christ would be risen this year since no one really felt like Easter. If you had suggested to me to just skip Easter for now and celebrate it when we are back at church in person, I would have probably agreed.

I am so glad, we didn’t consider that. As much as the church year is our liturgical way to commemorate God’s actions throughout history, it’s more than that. It helps not to get stuck in one season and to move on spiritually and emotionally, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Easter this year taught me that Jesus Christ is risen entirely by God’s decision. Not, because we humans made God do so. Because nothing needs to be done. It’s 100% grace. It’s 100% love. Signs of love, Jesus did in the presence of his disciples, that are not written in this book, as the Gospel states.

Signs of love that enter locked houses through phone-calls and shed tears. Signs of love that send letters and prayers. Signs of love that sew masks and make phone-calls and donate money to our neighbors in need. 

Having, quite literally, a white collar job, I am someone who can afford to stay home safely with my family. I can go shopping whenever and I can take the kids to the beach and avoid the weekend crowds. Just like Jesus’ friends. Thanks to people like Thomas back then and today. People in “blue collar jobs”, people putting their lives at risk to help others. 

People whose kids might fall behind at school now because mom and dad are working and cannot supervise their studies. People who work hard and still might live doubled up and paycheck to paycheck. People who have to chose between paychecks and their health right now. People who have lost their jobs and now patiently stand in-line for food. 

“We are all in this together”, we keep saying and hearing. This message is supposed to do what? There are many different ways it can be heard. 

As a way to put our misery in perspective. Telling us, that we are still quite well off, because others struggle even more. So, be thankful.

As a way to quiet our conscience that we are better off than others, because hey, we are all in this together, right? So, we are suffering just as much as everyone else, for once, right?

How far away that is from the truth really hid me last Friday. I was out in the streets dancing with my neighbors around 5 pm, after our Zoom rehearsal for today’s worship. It’s something we just started doing 3 weeks ago, to dance together at the end of the week in the middle of our street. It feels totally liberating. While we were dancing an Amazon driver pulled up and a lady came out of the car. She looked at us briefly and quickly delivered the parcel. One of my neighbors shouted: Come on, dance with us and have fun. The lady was like: “I am too tired”, and drove away. 

It took me 2 seconds to realize the absurdity of the situation. Us dancing in the street, celebrating that we had made it through another Corona-Week, inviting this tired lady to dance with us. Yes, we were all working parents, all exhausted from full days. Yet, what do we know about being in an Amazon truck all day? I was ashamed.

“We are all in this together”, makes us assume that we know how everyone is doing and what everyone might need right now. The truth is, we don’t. 

“We are all in this together” can be heard as a way to put our misery in perspective. Telling us, that the better we are off right now, the greater of a responsibility we have for others. Like for people usually working for us. What do we do with the money we are not spending on theatres and restaurants and childcare and coffee right now? 

Are we saving it for the hard times that might lay ahead? And how are we making sure that these hard times don’t already start for so many others? 

What are we doing to keep Thomas and all the others safe in a way that our actions match our words of assurance? That they can actually trust us when we tell them: Jesus is risen. For you, too. Peace be with you, because we are all in this together with Jesus by our side. Amen.