Good morning, Church! This warm spring day feels so great after the heavy, wet, snowstorm and resulting power outages across the region last week. We only lost power here on campus for a few hours, but we didn’t have internet, phone, or TV for two days.
As our family was decorating the grounds last Saturday, a gentleman stopped by and told us that when his family first moved to the area in the 1960s, it was common for the power to go out for a month! He shared wonderful memories of coming to our Parish Hall which was opened for the community to sit by the fire, or to cook their meals using the gas stove. Isn’t that a wonderful legacy? It is surely alive and well in you. I have seen you during this crisis - taking in family and neighbors, encouraging our power line teams, serving each other. Just know, the Parish Hall is available still, and always.
Today’s gospel (John 20:19—31 NRSV) starts exactly where we left off on Easter Sunday. Peter and John (the disciple who Jesus loved) left Jesus’ empty tomb believing but not really knowing what to do with it. The very first preacher Jesus appointed to share the Good News that “He is Risen”, Mary Magdalene, had rushed back to the other disciples to tell them she saw Jesus.
We find the disciples in ‘the place where they used to meet’. This was the place where they listened to Jesus, where they ate together, their happy place, their home. Yet, the doors are locked, and they are all very afraid. They have faced such trauma so it is entirely understandable they would want to lock out the whole world from harming them further.
They are hiding, afraid, and maybe… just maybe… afraid of wholeheartedly believing this fantastic idea that Jesus is truly Risen. The last time they followed Him, their hopes were crushed. However, right there is where Jesus comes to find them. Locked away in their hurt, in their shame from abandoning Him, He comes to them just where they are, as Jesus always does.
His first words were not of condemnation. He doesn’t say, “Nice job, running out on me guys. You cowards.” Or, “I needed you and you left me!” None of that; just “Peace be with you”. That word he spoke, in Greek, is eiríni, and is the same word I spoke about in February when we talked about Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous quote “peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of justice.” Jesus’ first words to them are, “It’s ok. I am not here to convict you; I am here to set you free.”
Why do I say this? Well look at His next action. He invites them to see His wounded side and hands. Traditionally, we understand this to mean He is proving it is actually Him, in the flesh, and so it is. But I wonder if there isn’t a bit more. Could it be that knowing how shocked and traumatized they are He is once again identifying with them? These are His literal wounds and they speak to His betrayal, the unjust cries for His crucifixion… His broken heart. He isn’t standing there saying “Well, you think you have it bad? Look at this”. No, it is empathy. He is saying “I know it hurts. They hurt me too and I am so sorry.” More than this, He is communicating that they don’t need to hide their hurt and shame. They don’t need to lock it behind closed doors, or stuff it down into some happy box inside their chest.
We don’t need to do that either. Don’t be ashamed of your scars. Jesus isn’t. He was perfect and still they hurt Him, and in this moment, He is saying once and for all, “Be free”. He even empowers them – and us – to forgive each other’s sin, as He has forgiven them.
One of my first jobs was at CitiHope Radio, a weekday broadcast in NYC, as director of our call center. In the 7th grade I would tally the results of our fundraising while on air and share them with the audience. Part of my job was also to “pre-screen” callers who wanted to go live on air to share why they gave or give feedback on the show. One of the funny things that happened from time to time was that “Jesus” would call in. Yup. Some guy with heavy NY accent would call in and say, “I gots somethin’ real important to share wit the peoples”. It was always so awkward. Our volunteer would rush in and tell me, “It’s Jesus again”. Phone to my ear, I’d answer with, “Oh, hey Jesus. You callin’ from Queens again?”, and start defusing the situation.
Sometimes we would also get angry calls, and complaints. One episode a homeless woman shared about her miscarriage caused by the living on the cold streets. A furious woman called in chiding me for allowing it on air. “Shame on you! I don’t need to hear about this!” she said as she continued to express her rage and displeasure.
Why do we do that? Why do we blame people for their wounds, or for daring to disclose their wounds? Why are we ashamed of our hurt? Have you ever met someone who refused to say aloud the whole name of a disease? They may say an abbreviation, like ‘They’ve got the C word!’ or even whisper ‘the cancer’ because some part of us still thinks that if we even speak the word it will happen to us. Yet the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus proves once and for all that suffering doesn’t happen to us due to some formula, or because we are not good – smart – honest – kind – strong – fill in the blank – enough.
Going back to the disciples and their encounters with the risen Jesus, we come to St. Thomas, or as he is often called, ‘doubting Thomas’. Is it me or does that seem unfair? You know, its not like the other disciples didn’t have moments that could have become idioms. We don’t have ‘stabby Peter’ or ‘taxing Matthew’ or ‘hotheaded James and John’. No, James and John get called the “Sons of Thunder” which sounds like a cool 80’s action movie. “In a world where evil cities reject Jesus, two men will dare to stand against them… the sons of thunder are here to burn it down” – and if you understood that scriptural reference, I’m super proud of you.
My point is, ‘Doubting Thomas’ is a moniker that has stuck with him over the ages, and I have to say, it is truly misplaced and not one that the early church held. Poor guy… he goes out for one cigarette and misses the return of Jesus AND gets called a doubter for a thousand years! I must ask – what is wrong with doubt? When things don’t make sense and the world is hurting, how can we not have doubt?
As the Gospel makes clear, they were all doubting! They were hiding away and even after Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit on them, 8 days later they still have the doors shut. That’s OK! Jesus doesn’t berate them as if saying, “Guys, still with the locked door here?” No, He repeats for the third time in this gospel “Peace be with you”. It’s like He wants us to truly understand this.
Thomas doesn’t even ask Jesus to show Him the wounds. Jesus offers and takes it even further because He knows Thomas’ heart. Thomas, so desperate for the truth, for the hard facts, looking to the science of this moment… to know, heart and soul, that Jesus really did endure this for Him. Jesus says, “Go ahead, touch my deepest hurt. It’s ok. I trust you.” It’s not the bad or negative thing we have been taught, to want answers, to have doubts.
All Thomas was asking for was to have the very same thing which the others experienced. To see Jesus. To know He is raised from the dead. To have Jesus be as vulnerable and truthful with Thomas as He had been with all the rest. It’s a tender moment, not an embarrassing one.
Jesus ends this interaction with saying, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” That statement happens to be true of all the disciples, and they are our saints. This was not a ‘Thomas, you’re not quite good enough’ moment.
In Jesus’ most famous sermon he said “Blessed are they who mourn, blessed are those who are persecuted, and so on.” A blessing is not always a measure of something ‘enjoyable’ happening to you. We need God’s blessing because it can be hard to believe. Especially something as fantastic and uncommon as someone being raised from the dead. Without the grace of God, who could even do it? I know I couldn’t.
In fact, it would be harder to do without all of you. You help me believe. The kindness you show each other in the face of your own brokenness. The grace we give each other. The face of Jesus I see when you serve one another. That. That right there is blessing and because of it my heart believes in God. Not because I haven’t seen Jesus… but because I have seen Him in you.
This is my encouragement to you this week. We’re all familiar with the phrase ‘seeing is believing’ and from where I am standing, that couldn’t be truer. Keep it up St. James, you are the blessing.
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