For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent he looked up and saw, way, way up, a tiny glimmer of light.

After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards it.

The walls of the pit were dank and slimy, and he kept slipping back down.

Finally, after great effort, he neared the top, and then he slipped and fell all the way back down.

It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb up again.

After many more falls and efforts and failures he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around a table.

"We’ve been waiting for you, Judas," Jesus said. "We couldn’t begin till you came."

I share this legend with you, not as an explanation of any theology I hold – it is a legend, only. But it illustrates clearly the never-ending love, forgiveness and patience of God.

It is this same love and forgiveness we see at work in the story from today’s gospel.

The disciples had already heard from the women that Jesus had risen from the dead.

They had just heard the account of the two men walking on the road to Emmaus, who met Jesus on the way.

But those waiting in the upper room were still not sure they believed.

No doubt they were afraid to believe.

They were, of course, afraid they might suffer the same fate as Jesus. That’s why they had cloistered themselves in the upper room for fear of both the religious leaders and the Romans.

But perhaps they were also afraid…to meet the risen Christ.

Did they wonder what kind of reception he would give them?

They were all betrayers, all like Judas in some sense. Peter had denied Jesus verbally in front of witnesses. The rest had merely fled in fear, leaving Jesus to die alone.

What would the Risen Christ have to say, when he met them?

If you were Jesus at that moment, meeting your closest friends who had left you to die alone, what would you say to them?

Left to my own devices, without God’s grace, I don’t think the first words out of my mouth would have been "Peace be with you."

I would have been sorely tempted to utilize this moment to tell the disciples what I really thought of them.

"Gee, thanks, guys, for the support you gave me in my hour of need.

Thanks for running away when I was led off to the High priest.

And Peter – I TOLD you you were going to deny me.
And you did.

You know guys, its really nice to know I can count on you when the chips are down."

I am supposed to send you out as witnesses to the resurrection –
Great witnesses YOU’d make – I’d be better of sending that centurion by the cross – at least he was THERE – at least he understood who I am…."

But Jesus didn’t do that – he met them instead with love, with words of comfort, and with forgiveness.

He did everything he could to encourage them when they were down.

He had no axe to grind, no former disappointment to air –
Only a deep abiding love for these men who were his closest companions.

Instead of chastising them, he shared God’s peace with them, broke bread with them, and opened the scriptures – actions that became the pattern for Christians meeting together over the next 2000 years – actions that celebrated the presence of the Risen Christ amongst them.

Madeleine L’Engle said that her son-in-law, an Episcopal priest, told the legend of Judas at a clergy conference.

Yet there were some who heard the story, and were deeply offended.

But how much difference, really, was there between Judas, and Peter?

They both denied Christ in one way or another. The bible never says Judas could not be forgiven – it only says that Judas could not forgive himself.

How much difference is there between those disciples that ran from the cross, and many of us?

Are we always consistent followers of Christ? I can think of many times in my life that I have behaved in a way that I regret.

For those times, I can only ask God’s forgiveness, and the forgiveness of the people I have no doubt offended by my actions.

Those simple things, however, hold the means by which the world can be changed. The cry of "Peace be with you" is a cry that needs to be heard ‘round the world.

But true peace only comes through repentance and forgiveness. This is the message Jesus modeled for his disciples. We are given the same commission.

We begin where the gospel must always begin – at home, with our own turning around to the right way, and our own forgiveness of painful things done to us.

No one said it was easy – but if we believe that the Risen Christ has something to say to this world, the work must begin with us.

The offenses, the slights that we have felt, are shadows of those that have broken this world we live in. Nations, families, ethnic groups suffer from what has been done to them.

Each one has its own stories of pain and death, unforgiveness, torture, revenge. When will it end? It will only end when the world as we know it learns to walk behind the cross through the gates of mercy and repentance.

It will only happen when the world’s Christians recognize that in the very person of the Risen Christ is the call to reconciliation.

Today, as you share the peace with one another, remember that it is to this that we are called – to peace, reconciliation, and forgiveness. It is not a meaningless handshake in the middle of the liturgy – it is a sign of the Risen Christ’s presence in our midst – as much a sign as the breaking of the bread, and the sharing of scripture. Together we as Christ’s body share in bearing the message – "Peace be with you" to a world in desperate need. Truly, let it begin with us.