Pentecost - John 20:19-23 - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr

 

March 24, 2026 – Pentecost - John 20_19-23

The peace of the Lord be always with you. That was a test. It’s not that I don’t mean what I said; I wanted to see what your response would be. “And also with you.” It kind of rolls off your tongue, doesn’t it? You don’t even have to think about it. Twice in our Gospel today, Jesus tells the disciples, “Peace be with you.” The second time, he adds, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

Last Sunday, we spent time with the word “glory.” Jesus prayed, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you.” We said that “glory” was not about achievement, or winning, or success. Glory was about allowing the light of Christ to shine through us.

I’m wondering if in this text we should look at the word “peace.” What are we actually saying to one another, “The peace of the Lord be always with you”? What did Jesus mean when he told them, “Peace be with you”? I don’t think Jesus meant calm feelings here. I don’t think he meant the absence of conflict. That’s how we define peace, isn’t it – calm, relaxing, at ease? I think Jesus meant something much deeper and much more demanding.

If peace meant tranquility to Jesus, he picked a very strange moment to talk about it. The disciples are afraid. The doors are locked. The world outside still feels dangerous since Jesus’ death. Jesus’ crucifixion did not erase any conflict. Rome was still Rome. The religious authorities were still angry. The disciples are still scared.

Jesus stands in the middle of them and says, “Peace be with you.” He didn’t say that everything is fine. He didn’t tell them they could sit down and relax. He didn’t say that things are back to normal. He says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” He didn’t say, “Peace be with you,” to help them escape the world. He said it so they could enter the world differently.

The peace Jesus spoke of can be seen in a young girl named Ruby Bridges. Ruby’s parents were sharecroppers who moved to New Orleans in search of better opportunities. At just six years old, Ruby was the first black child to integrate an all-white elementary school in New Orleans. Every day, angry crowds would gather outside. People shouted insults at this young girl simply for walking into a school building.

One day, the federal marshals escorting Ruby saw her stop in front of one of the screaming women. It appeared that Ruby was talking back to the women. The marshals later asked Ruby what she had said. Ruby said, “I wasn’t talking to her. I was praying for her.” That was not a time of calmness and tranquility. A woman was standing there screaming at a child. The moment was neither comfortable nor harmonious, as we would describe peace. But, it was peace. It was peace, not as avoidance, but peace as courage. Peace as refusing to let hatred have the final word. Peace as meeting fear and hostility with something deeper.

Today, on Pentecost, we celebrate the beginning of the church. It’s when the disciples were sent to share the Gospel. Pentecost is not the first appearance of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit has been present from the beginning. In Genesis, the Spirit hovered over creation. In Psalm 104, God sent the Spirit, and creation was renewed. In Numbers, the Spirit rests upon the elders so that they can help carry the burden of caring for the people. The Spirit has always been God’s life moving throughout the world. At Pentecost, the Spirit is poured out in a new way. It’s not just upon a few people for a moment. It’s put upon the whole community so the church can be sent out into the world. And that Spirit sends us. As we are part of that same church, we too are sent, sent to share the Gospel. Sent in peace. “The peace of the Lord be always with you.” It is not just a greeting. It’s a commissioning.

Notice what Jesus does next. He breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” This really matters. This kind of peace that Ruby had doesn’t come naturally to us. As humans, when we face controversy or what we may see as dangerous, our instinct is to either fight or run away. We either attack the people who hurt us or, like the disciples, we lock the doors behind us and hide. The peace of Christ does not fight, and it doesn’t run away.

Christ’s peace steps into fearful places without becoming fearful itself. The peace of Christ enters angry places without becoming consumed by anger. The peace of Christ refuses to answer hate with more hate. Easier said than done, right? It is very hard work that we cannot do without the Holy Spirit's help. It takes the Spirit to forgive and the Spirit to listen before we speak. It takes the Spirit to tell the truth without destroying others. It takes the Spirit to cross the boundaries that must be crossed to protect and help others. It takes the Spirit to pray for someone when every part of our being wants to yell back.

Most of us have probably never had to stand where Ruby Bridges stood, and we probably never will. But most of us know what it is like to walk into a room filled with tension—maybe times when family relationships are strained. Political conversations where everyone is angry and no one is listening anymore. Division within our communities. Old wounds we would rather avoid than heal. Times when it is easier just to cut someone off than to do the work of reconciliation. In all of these places, Jesus says, “Peace be with you.” It’s not to find peace by avoiding conflict. It’s about entering conflict differently.

In our liturgy, before we come to the table, we pass the peace. It’s not us simply saying, “Hello,” to one another. It’s more than that. It’s about reconciliation. It’s about seeing every person in this room as our brother and sister. It’s preparing each of us for mission.

On Pentecost, the Spirit didn’t descend on the disciples so they could become calm and feel protected behind a locked door. The Spirit came to send them out into the divided, violent, and fearful world. Into a world that desperately needed peace. Every time we leave this church, the Spirit sends us. The Spirit sends us and is with us in every difficult conversation, every time we choose mercy, and every time we refuse to let bitterness have the final word.

“The peace of the Lord be always with you.” These words are not just a greeting. They are not to provide you comfort. They are not permitting you to avoid things. They are not so that you can pretend everything is fine. They are a calling…a mission, and that may be one of the hardest things Jesus ever asks us to carry into the world. Peace. Amen.