Today may be the second Sunday in the Easter season for us, but according to the passage from John’s Gospel that I just read, for the disciples it’s still the Day of Resurrection. It’s evening on the first day of the week, evening on the first Easter Sunday – evening on a day that has been way too confusing, and way too long.
Jesus’ tomb is empty, a reality confirmed by Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the disciple whom Jesus loved; and even though Mary returned from the empty tomb that morning saying that she has “seen the Lord”, no one else has seen him -- and his body is still missing. The whole company of disciples is still in shock from the brutality of the crucifixion and from the grief of loss, and now their fear has the upper hand – fear of the Romans, because they might come after the disciples next, as well as fear of the Temple establishment, the priests and the Sadducees that John refers to as “the Jews”, for pretty much the same reason – the disciples might be next.
In their fear, they’ve locked the doors of the house where they’ve gathered, and now they’re trying to figure out what on earth to do; trying to figure out what on earth comes next.
One disciple, however, isn’t with them: Thomas the Twin, who not too long before had proclaimed that he wanted to die by Jesus’ side. Thomas has taken his grief, and perhaps his shame; his fear and his disillusionment, and he’s gone off to be by himself for a while.
It’s said that one of the rules that King George the Fifth of England lived by was, “If I have to suffer, let me be like a well-bred animal and let me go and suffer alone.”
I’m not sure that Thomas would phrase it quite like that, but like many people before and since – like some of us, perhaps – for better or for worse, Thomas has, for now at least, made the choice to go and suffer alone. The irony is that he’s chosen to go off, chosen to separate himself from the other disciples, just when he needs to be with them the most – and the reason he needs to be with them is that while he’s gone, “what comes next” starts to happen behind those locked doors.
Suddenly, locked doors notwithstanding, Jesus comes and stands in the midst of the disciples. He wishes them peace and shows them his wounds, and then in one fell swoop, in one momentous breath, he transforms these ordinary, flawed, frightened people into God’s Church.
Breathing on the disciples just as God had first breathed life into Adam, Jesus says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” He commissions them for a life in God’s service and makes them partners in what today’s collect calls “the new covenant of reconciliation.” In the name of Christ and in the power of the Holy Spirit, the Good News of God’s grace and salvation is now theirs to spread.
But Thomas isn’t with them; so when he does come back and he hears that while he was gone, not only have the others all seen Jesus risen and alive, but they’ve also received the gift of the Holy Spirit, he responds in a very understandable way: “Jesus was here? Are you crazy? Jesus is DEAD. You’re all nuts! I will believe it only when I see it. Only when I can see Jesus and touch him myself will I believe that you’re not all suffering from some trick or hoax or mass delusion. Only when I can match the wounds in his hands with the wounds in my heart, then and only then will I let myself believe that he’s alive.”
Time and the Christian tradition haven’t been kind to Thomas. His heartfelt honesty has earned him the label “Doubting Thomas”, and the words that Jesus says to him later in this story have come down through the various English translations sounding like a reproach…but at the end of the day, Thomas really isn’t asking all that much.
What Thomas wants isn’t much more than what the other disciples have already gotten: they have seen Jesus; they have seen his wounds. In the intensity of his need for visible proof, in his reluctance to risk being hurt again, and, perhaps, in his anger at Jesus that he’d been left out the first time, Thomas gets branded a skeptic in popular thought, and he becomes known as the disciple with too little faith.
But Scripture sees him differently; and Thomas turns out to be a gift to us and a model for us, because in John’s eyes, Thomas is the disciple who finds the answers to his questions within the community of faith. He becomes the link, the one who reaches both ways; the one who reaches between “those who were there” – them – and “those who come after” – us.
Mahatma Ghandi once said, “When faith becomes blind, it dies.” Well, blind faith is not Thomas’ problem. Much as he might want to believe what the other disciples are telling him, much as he might want to accept their words in faith, he can’t. He just can’t. He can’t make his head and his heart get in sync. He’s like the father of the epileptic child who cried to Jesus through his tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” and it is to Thomas’ everlasting credit that as he goes through his struggle and his doubting, he remains with the other disciples. Once he’s back, he stays; and in his staying in the community in the midst of his doubt, he gives us a model of faith.
The key here is that the risen Jesus has appeared to the disciples as a group. It’s the group that he has commissioned for service, and it’s within the group, within this community of faith, that Thomas voices his feelings. This is important for us to remember because so often in today’s Church, we’re tempted to hide our doubts or our questions, tempted to hide our pain; and we hide because we’re afraid we’re the only one here who doesn’t have our act all together.
Thinking we’re alone, we might even try to persuade ourselves that in our too little faith or in our pain we should leave the community; that it’s in everyone’s best interests for us to get ourselves and our doubts and our situation out of the way so that we don’t rock the communal boat…but that’s so not true.
As Christians, we’re inseparably bound together by our baptismal covenant, which is far, far thicker than mere blood. All of us here have promised again and again to support each other in our life in Christ; and, for ourselves, we have promised to continue, to persevere, to return, to proclaim, to seek, to serve, and to strive. We haven’t promised not to question; we haven’t promised not to doubt; and we haven’t promised to like everyone we’re called to love; but we have promised to stay.
Thomas’ words probably scandalize some of the disciples and may well sadden others; but insofar as we can tell from John, no one tells him that he shouldn’t feel this way, no one tells him to leave, to get out; and no one tells him that he isn’t a real disciple anymore. They probably do tell him again and again what they experienced, and they probably pray for him, asking God that Thomas might also see what they have seen; but no one seems to demand that he take back his words.
Well. Eight days later, Thomas’ prayer – and possibly ours – is answered. The disciples have gathered in the house again, this time with Thomas present – and it’s worth noting that having received the gift of the Holy Spirit, the community’s fear of the outside world has been laid to rest, and the doors are no longer locked.
The Lord appears among them, greets them all, and then turns specifically to Thomas; and just as the Church hasn’t reproached Thomas, neither does Jesus. Instead, he responds to Thomas’ need and, in the presence of that community whose ministry is reconciliation, Jesus ministers to Thomas.
“Touch me,” he says, “touch me as you say you need to, and know that this is true.” And while our English translation today is kind of dry, reading “Do not doubt but believe,” John’s original Greek is much fuller, much more like, “Do not be empty of faith; do not have this void within you, but rather have faith. Be filled; believe.”
As Jesus offers Thomas all of himself, Thomas receives the revelation that the Church is now charged to share: he sees the glory of God present in Jesus, and in the midst of the community of faith Thomas responds, “My Lord and my God.” This same faith community that had accepted his pain and his uncertainty now witnesses Thomas’ coming to belief.
For John, the Church’s presence is crucial. As time passes and fewer and fewer eyewitnesses to Jesus’ ministry still live, the Church becomes the keeper and the teller of the sacred story. Thomas becomes the link, the hinge in the years, because even though he’s a disciple who “was really there,” he still needs visible proof of the resurrection from Jesus himself before he can believe, and that proof comes to him in the midst of the Church.
We today are heirs of the community that supported Thomas in the midst of his doubts. Knit together by our baptismal vows and by our common life in Christ, we are all continually challenged to remember that we now live no longer for ourselves but for each other, companions not only in the communion of saints, but companions also in the company of sinners being redeemed.
The late monk Thomas Merton understood the interweaving of our lives when he wrote, “My successes are not my own. The way to them was prepared by others. The fruit of my labors is not my own: for I am preparing the way for the achievements of another. Nor are my failures my own. They may spring from the failure of another, but they are also compensated for by another’s achievement. Therefore the meaning of my life is not to be looked for merely in the sum total of my own achievements. It is seen only in the complete integration of my achievements and failures with the achievements and failures of my own generation, and society, and time. [The meaning of my life] is seen, above all, in my integration into the mystery of Christ.”
Thomas the Twin became integrated into the mystery of Christ through the appearance and the love of the risen Jesus. Our own integration into mystagogia, into the mystery of Christ, comes through baptism. We aren’t freed from struggles of faith as we journey along the way – integration doesn’t promise us this – but we are promised the support and the presence of God’s Spirit, and of the Christian community in the Church and in Scripture to be with us, to help us and to walk with us through our struggles – and we’re given the gift of Thomas, this first hand witness and disciple who voices and hallows and validates not only his own doubts, but our doubts, and our questions, and our fears as well.
The tomb is empty; the Lord is risen indeed, and we are all now the Lord’s Church, commissioned and empowered to bring God’s reconciliation, God’s love, and God’s Good News to the rest of the world. Amen.