Luke 24:36-48
God with Skin On
James Sledge May
19, 2019
I’ve
likely told this story before, but it seems worth retelling. A mom is putting
her young child to bed, but he’s frightened and begs her to stay with him. She
does those things parents do, explain that there’s nothing to be afraid of,
remind him that she’ll be just outside his room, and so on, but none does much
good. Finally she says, “God will be right here the entire night.” But the boy protests,
“I need God with skin on!”
You
can’t really blame him. God can feel pretty wispy at times, an idea or concept
without a lot of substance. If I’m really frightened, a concept may not feel
all that comforting. If I don’t have enough to eat, saying “God loves you,” won’t
do much good.
The
whole Jesus business is, in part, about giving God some skin, about a God that removes
some of the wispiness and lets us say, “Oh, so this is what God is like.” Yet modern
Christianity sometimes minimizes the skin on part, preferring God as concept.
And so Jesus the man, the Jewish rabbi, gets turned into Christ, a not quite
human figure without all those messy particulars of skin and bodily functions
and Jewishness. Sometimes it’s easier to run a religion where God is a
manageable concept without too much skin.
The
gospels, however, go to great lengths to insist on the fleshiness of Jesus, not
just before his death and resurrection but after it as well. Our reading this
morning is one of several that go out of their way to keep Jesus’ skin on.
People are invited to touch him, and, in Luke’s gospel, Jesus eats in two
successive stories.
On
the day of resurrection, two disciples meet Jesus as they walk to Emmaus but don’t
recognize him. Only when they stop for the evening and share a meal where Jesus
takes bread, blesses and breaks it, do the disciples realize it is Jesus.
They
rush back to Jerusalem and are telling the others what happened when Jesus
shows up once more. He invites his friends to touch him, to see that he has
skin on, then he asks, “Have you anything to eat?” And he
eats the fish they give him.
This
might seem a totally unnecessary detail unless you’re determined to present the
risen Jesus as a fleshy, with-skin-on sort of God. For the gospels, and for
biblical faith, bodies are not a problem to be overcome. Salvation is not about
a spiritual existence apart from the body. Christian faith is a messy,
incarnate faith where God has skin on, and where following Jesus with our earthly
bodies is as much the focus as what happens when we die. Christian faith only
works when it is embodied, when it has skin on.