Luke tells us that, upon seeing the resurrected Jesus, his disciples “were startled and terrified.” It is worthwhile dwelling on this fear. On the one hand, it is a terror born of the confrontation with the strange and unknown, that which does not fit into customary categories. But on the other hand, it is a fear derived from guilt. In accord with the plot of most ghost stories, they are terrified because the one they abandoned and betrayed and left for dead is back—undoubtedly for revenge!
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​As in almost all of the other accounts of the post-Resurrection appearances, Luke’s risen Jesus does two things in the presence of his shocked followers. First, he says, “Shalom,” or “Peace be with you.” This peace, this shalom, is the universal well-being that had been longed for throughout the Old Testament, that had indeed been sought ever since Eden. It is the serenity that comes from participating in the very life of God.
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​Next, he shows them his wounds. This move is a reiteration of the judgment of the cross: don’t forget, he tells them, what the world did when the Author of life appeared. A woundless Christ is embraced much more readily by his executioners, since he doesn’t remind them of their crime. But the Jesus who stubbornly shows them his wounds will not permit this exculpating forgetfulness.
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​In this, he opens up a new spiritual world and thereby becomes our Savior. From ancient creation myths to the Rambo and Dirty Harry movies, the principle is the same: order, destroyed through violence, is restored through a righteous exercise of greater violence. Some agent of chaos is corralled and conquered by fighting him (or it) on his own terms and overpowering him. If domination is the problem (as in the ancient stories), then a counter-domination is the solution; if gun violence is the problem (as in most cop movies), then a bigger and more skillfully handled gun is the solution. And in these myths, God or the gods are customarily invoked as the sanction for the process.