On the last night he was with his disciples, and at the first encounter they had with him after his resurrection, Jesus shared with them the gift and intimacy of touch.  He washed their feet at the Passover meal we celebrate as Maundy Thursday.  And in today's Gospel he knows that Thomas will be unable to believe it's Jesus, unless he allows Thomas to touch his wounds.   With the availability and openness of touch comes profound vulnerability.  In the physicality of our own relationships, we know that touch can be hurtful, as well as healing; forceful and demanding, as well as powerful in its invitation.  Touch, as we know from the experiences of our sexuality, can be degrading as easily as it is uplifting; it can taunt and mock our dignity, as easily as it honors with reverence and deep affection our human birthright to be loved in ways that reunite body and spirit, instead of reveling in tearing them apart.

And so the first touch of resurrection, Jesus knows, will powerfully demonstrate the new life that's ours to grasp.  Jesus knew that humanity's experience of incarnate love of God for the rest of our lives would depend on how the story of this resurrection appearance-the power of touch-- was remembered, and how it was told. Would it be told as a touch of condemnation and judgment, of self-righteous privilege or retribution?  Would it be remembered as an experience of touch that would assure Jesus' followers, and us, that God's way of loving honors vulnerability and our deep hunger for physical connection between soul and soul?  And so the moment comes.  And instead of touching one of them, Jesus offers Thomas his wounds -- he makes himself vulnerable to the touch of Thomas, flesh to flesh.

Ronald Rolheiser tells a marvelous story "about a four-year-old child who awoke one night frightened, convinced that in the darkness around her there were all kinds of spooks and monsters.  Alone, she ran to her parents' bedroom.  Her mother calmed her down and, taking her by the hand, led her back to her own room, where she put on a light and reassured the child with these words: ‘You needn't be afraid, you're not alone here.  God is in the room with you.' The child replied: ‘I know that God is here, but I need someone in this room who has some skin!'"

The Good News of the story of the Incarnation - from the child in the manger to the man on the cross, to the resurrected Christ facing his struggling follower Thomas - is that the story we tell is about a God who knows that when push comes to shove, we all need someone in the room with us who has skin, no matter how young or old we are. And so Jesus offered Thomas the intimate gesture of touch, by making his wounds vulnerable, skin-to-skin.

God continues to reach out and touch us in the visible signs of community and Holy Communion. By Jesus giving us himself clothed in our flesh, and holding us near to the heart of God like a mother being present with her frightened child, by reaching out and inviting our touch - even into the vulnerability of his woundedness - Christ enables us to speak the language of love to the entire world. As you greet one another with the peace of the Risen Christ, let us make ourselves available and vulnerable to be loved, and to love, as Christ has loved us. This is the story that defines who we are and all we do.  It's the story of Easter, and of life that will never die.  Alleluia, alleluia, Christ has risen!