“Hands and Feet”

Luke 24:36-48

April 30, 2006

St.  Paul United Methodist Church

Rev.  John A.  Fleming

 

 

We’re in the third week of the season of Easter which means that this is the third week that we’ve gone to Jerusalem to see where the resurrected Jesus will show up next.  You will remember that two weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, we walked with Mary to the tomb while it was still dark.  Later we ran with two of the disciples as they looked in the tomb to see if what Mary had seen was true.  Last week, we made it up to the second floor of that Jerusalem house where on Easter evening, Jesus appeared to his disciples, offered them peace, gave them his Spirit, told them to go out into the world with the  power to forgive sins or to hold on to them.  Thomas was not there that first Easter evening, you will remember.  So our gospel lesson asked us to go back to the second story room a week later so that Thomas could see and believe.  I hope that you will remember that Jesus’ words rang in our ears and in our hearts when he said, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

 

Well, we are quickly running out of resurrection stories in the lectionary lessons.  There are more, of course, but we don’t read them all every year.  We hold on to a few of them for the following years.  Because we are running out of them, we turn this morning to Luke’s version of what happened during those first few days after the resurrection of Jesus.

 

Like John, Luke tells the story of what happened on that first Easter morning.  His version of the story is much shorter than John’s version.  That may be the reason that we read John’s version every year.  Luke tells us that many believed that what happened was an idle tale, which means that they didn’t believe it.  Luke’s second story about the resurrection is the famous one of what happened while two of his disciples (who aren’t listed among the twelve) made their way from Jerusalem to a small village named Emmaus, some seven miles from Jerusalem.  These two did not recognize Jesus as he walked among them.  They did not realize that it was Jesus when he opened the scriptures up for them.  It was only in the breaking of bread that these two saw and believed.

 

All of this leads up to our lesson for this morning.  This time, Jesus appears to all of the disciples.  He suddenly appears as he has the other times.  He offers peace, just like he did during the other resurrection appearances.

 

The disciples, Luke tells us, are startled and terrified.  They thought they were seeing a ghost.  To counter that, Jesus says, “Look at my hands and my feet...”

 

I know what Jesus is doing.  I know that he is helping the disciples to see that he is the one, the same one who went to the cross.  He did not by pass it.  Jesus did not rise above it or go below it.  Jesus went to the cross, through the pain and the suffering, to a resurrected life.  Now he has come back to show them this so that they can tell the world.  Jesus says that they are to be witnesses of these things.

 

Still, I think that it’s a little strange, a little peculiar, that Jesus identifies himself to his friends by saying, “Look at my hands and my feet...”  The disciples are shaking in their sandals.  They are wondering if all of them, at the same time, are seeing things.  They are questioning whether or not this is a group hallucination.  To prove that they are not seeing things and that this is real, Jesus offers them substantial proof that he is who they think he is.  Two hands, two feet, ten fingers, and ten toes who could belong to no one but Jesus.  It is the wounds that Jesus wants them to see.  Still, I think that his hands and his feet are a strange way to identify himself.  Why didn’t he use his voice.  That is how Mary knew that it was Jesus.  Why didn’t Jesus break another loaf of bread, like he did with the travelers on the Emmaus road?  Why didn’t Jesus just say, “Look into my eyes.  Look at my face!  It is me!”

 

I am a fan of the show CSI, which stands for Criminal Science Investigation.  I think.  You can watch a version of the show on Monday, Wednesday, or Thursday evening.  Monday’s show is set in Miami.  Wednesday’s show is set in New York.  Thursday’s show is set in Las Vegas.  I am amazed at how a little evidence, a strand of hair, a toe nail, or a swab of DNA can answer all of the questions of what happened.  The medical can look at a little thing and know exactly what happened.  For instance, they could look at someone’s hands and identify them.

 

Could you do that?  Could you identify someone by their hands and their feet alone?

 

What would happen if at the post office, what was pictured on the FBI’s most wanted list wasn’t a face, but a pair of hands.  Maybe under it would be this description: “The suspect is double jointed in both thumbs and has evidence of a broken pinkie on his right hand.”  Would that be enough for you to recognize one of America’s most wanted?

 

Hands and feet are not the first thing that we notice about one another and yet they are so telling of who we are.  My mother tells me that I have Moore hands as opposed to Fleming hands.  My hands look like my grandfather’s, she tells me.  The tips of my fingers are more squared off than round.  Moore hands are strong hands, at least according to my mom.  Fleming hands are different.  Fleming hands are more artistic, so says my mom.  Fleming hands look like ones that paint, draw, write, or play the piano.  One of the great memories of my dad’s hands and feet have them dancing across the keyboard and the pedal of an impressive pipe organ.  In 1993, my dad had emergency surgery that eventually led to the removal of two of his toes.  He walks with a slight limp, but his feet still dance on organ pedals.

 

My hands don’t look like my father’s hands.  My hands look like someone who works for a living; little do they know!   Annie Grace doesn’t have Moore or Fleming hands, she has Simpkins hands.  They look more like that side of the family.  And by looking at Julie’s hands, I can see that she, too, has Simpkins hands. 

Your hands tell a lot about you.  I have callouses on my hands from my days of mowing lawns for a living and gripping first a baseball and then a softball bat.  I have a scar on my left hand, just below the finger that I use to point.  The scar is a few inches long and is the result of a bagel accident back in my last year of seminary.  I used a sharp knife on a frozen bagel and it’s a small miracle that I didn’t lose my finger.  Blood went everywhere!  The middle finger on my left hand is permanently jammed from my church basketball league days when an orange basketball on several occasions hit it just right.  Another one of my fingers has a callous on it from the hours and hours that either a pen or pencil has rested against it!

 

My feet don’t have as many stories to tell.  There is only one.  There is a small indention on the bottom of one of them that tells the story of the time that I was playing in a vacant lot; a nail went through my shoe and into my foot.  I limped home.

 

Feet, for the most part, are private; we cover them up unless you are brave enough to wear sandals.  There are things about our feet that distinguish them, too.

 

I think that if I was asked, I could identify some of your hands.  After all, I have been putting bread in them for nearly four years.  Sunday after Sunday, one of my hands reaches out to one of your hands as a way of saying good morning or see you next week.  I know some of your hands by heart!  I know some of them have wear and tear on them.  Some  of your hands are still brand new.

 

I guess one of the things that I like about hands is that they cannot do anything but tell the truth.  You can hide things on your face.  It’s harder, but you can hide things in your eyes.  You can put on a mask, but when it comes to your hands, they will give you away every time!

 

When you are anxious, you clench them.  When you are afraid, you wring them.  When it is bad enough, they become wet with sweat.

 

Look at my hands and my feet, says Jesus.  My guess is that when the disciples did, they saw everything that he had been to them.  These were the hands that lifted bread and wine toward the heavens and then back toward them.  This bread and wine was a sure sign that Jesus would be with them forever.  These were the hands that reached down to the ground and with a little saliva mixed in, made a paste that helped a man to see.  These were the hands that reached out to lepers without the fear of the disease.  These were the hands that drank from the bucket, drawn from a woman at a well; hands that reached out to her that ultimately said that living water could be her’s.  These were the hands that danced in the air when he taught.  These were the hands, I am sure, that were put on the disciples during important and encouraging times.  These were the hands that beckoned children to him and even the ones that turned over temple tables in anger.

 

Look at my hands and my feet, says Jesus.  These are the feet that walked hundreds of miles for the purpose of delivering good news!  You will remember that it was Isaiah, the prophet, who wrote, “How beautiful upon the mountain are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’” These are the feet where once, a woman, who was considered a sinner sat.  She bathed Jesus’ feet with her tears and dried them with her hair and anointed them with ointment.

 

These are the feet where Mary stayed while her sister, Martha got upset.  These are the feet that walked around the table on what we’ve come to call Maundy Thursday.  With a towel around his waist and a basin in his hands, Jesus began doing the servant’s task of washing his disciples’ dust filled feet with the lesson, we all ought to be about the work of being a servant.  These are the feet that went to the homes of people who were considered criminals.  Jesus’ feet took him there and treated the ones there like a long lost relative.

 

These hands and these feet are wounded now, of course.  We all know that.  These hands and feet have holes in them.  Angry bruises are on them.  It must have been hard for the disciples to look at them.  But it was important for them to see them.  Because when it was time to stand by these feet and these hands, the disciples ran.  They went when they could not stand to see the bleeding and when they could not bear to hear the distinctive sound of a hammer hitting a nail.

 

Jesus wanted his disciples to know, now that the danger had passed, that these hands and these feet hadn’t gone past the suffering, that they hadn’t gone around the suffering, but rather they had gone through the suffering.  These hands and feet are not perfect now, but they are the only proof that Jesus is who He says He is and that He did what He said He would do.

 

Look at my hands and my feet, says Jesus.  That is how you will know who I am.  The popular hymn says that the world will know that we are Christians by our love, yes by our love, they will know that we are Christians by our love.  That may be true.  But the world will also know that we are followers of Jesus by looking at our hands and our feet.

 

What do our hands and feet say about us?  They answer the question, “Where have we been and who we have touched.”  This week I have seen where you have been.  Several of you have spent time on your knees with your hands bowed in prayer for Rev.  Al Hawkins and for Stan Rose.  Your feet have carried you to a hospital waiting room to be with a young mother whose husband has been critically ill.  Your hands have made them dinner.  Your feet have carried the casseroles.  Your hands reached around this young lady.  Because we all want to do something to help, you have.  Their neighbors have, too.  They have done the Roses’ laundry, cleaned up the brush that was the sight of his accident and mowed their yard.  You have touched their lives in important ways.  This family will never forget their church or cease to help other people.  There are a hundred families out there just like them.

 

Who have you served?  What have our hands and feet proclaimed?  You are witnesses of these things, says Jesus.  The whole world is entrusted to our care; when the world looks around for the risen Christ and doesn’t see him, they will look at us.  They will look in our faces and in our sincere eyes.  They will also look at our hands and our feet and what we have done with them, where we have gone.  We are witnesses of these things; we are still the body of Christ.  Let us pray.

 

(Special thanks to Barbara Brown Taylor for the idea of this sermon and for several lines in it.  Special thanks to the body of Christ that is St.  Paul United Methodist Church.  I have seen your love in your hands and in your feet.  I dedicate this sermon to Stan Rose.  Work hard, my young friend.  Work hard and get well).