Thursday in the Octave of Easter

Lectionary: 264

Then he said to them, “Why are you troubled? 

And why do questions arise in your hearts? 
Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. 
Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones
as you can see I have.”

When I turn the ignition key and the radio begins, the first word I hear is no longer “Trump” but “coronavirus.” Something new and terrible has happened, not only to America but to the world. Even the Gospel has changed because we are compelled to hear the Good News in the light of imposing current events. I suppose the terror has invaded the sleep of millions as they worry about contagion and disease throughout the night.

It’s good to learn of and appreciate the history of the Bible’s seventy-two documents, recognizing that they were written in particular places and times, by several authors and in Hebrew or Greek. But that information is only background to our present reading. 
The Gospel should always be heard in this world where we actually live. I want to know what God will say to me today, and how I might please him.

So when I hear Jesus inviting his astonished disciples to “touch me and see,” I think that I should have to overcome the present fear I have of touching another human body, and of being within range of his moist exhalation.

The coronavirus has given new meaning to, “We’re all in this together.” The boundaries of our bodies have been altered. Where I was comfortable with two or three feet between us as we stand in the hall and chat, I want at least six feet.

But the Church remembers a “more natural body politic,” before megaphones and amplifiers, when crowds stood shoulder to shoulder and belly to butt, listening to a trumpet-voiced evangelist. Moving indoors, those marvelous preachers commanded the congregation’s attention in high-vaulted cathedrals as his voice echoed off stone walls and floor. Only lately have we added wooden pews to those sacred places, separating the congregation into sedate, sedentary apartments. Their connections were nonetheless palpable, especially when people bathed only occasionally. The sacred incense could not cover the odor of human companionship. If the preacher aroused emotions of awe, joy, or remorse as he called them to prayer, the sentiments gathered them into a tight formation of praise. We can imagine the Lord seated on the praises of Israel as they offered their oblation.

Even now, separated as we are by the coronavirus, isolated in our homes and offices, the Lord gathers us in prayer and invites us to “Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see I have.”
The Lord is risen, Alleluia!