Some of you may laugh…some
of you may not believe it…some of you may think I’ve gone totally
off my nut…but this is Easter Sunday! It's Easter every Sunday at the Nekoosa UCC
and at other churches, too. That's what John is trying to tell us today.
It's a not so subtle subtext of his
story about "doubting Thomas, one of those messages that's all the
more powerful because we "overhear" it while listening to John tell
us about Thomas. But let’s look at the story again. The disciples gather
in a room behind closed doors on the first day of the week. Suddenly, mysteriously, Jesus is with them.
"Peace be with you," he says. You can almost
hear the disciples responding, "And also with you." Then Jesus says,
"As the Father has sent me, so I send you." Then Jesus breathes on
them - he is breathing! - and says, "Receive the
Holy Spirit." This is John's version of Pentecost.
Yes, it's a story about Easter. But
it's also a story of how every Sunday is Easter, because this is what happens
every time his disciples gather behind closed doors: Jesus is with us, Jesus
gives us peace, Jesus commissions us, and then Jesus empowers us to go back out
into the world to do his work. We call that "church!"
Look what happens exactly one week later.
It's Sunday again, a week after Easter. The disciples
gather again behind closed doors. And again, Jesus is with them. He reaches out
his wounded hands to heal Thomas' wounded spirit. See what I mean? Easter every Sunday. John wants us to know that this happens
every week among Jesus' closest friends. Traditionally, this Sunday is called "Low
Sunday" in the church. Attendance is down, a stark contrast to last week.
The lovely lilies have been taken to those who can’t be with us, the children won’t find any eggs, unless they
discover a few left over from last week. Our nametags have been taken from the
cross and placed back in the Narthex. But it's still Easter, you see, because
Jesus is here, living and breathing among us.
It does happen every Sunday. I can't explain it. But we know he is here. We can feel him. We can see him in each other.
Look around you. We are all so
different. We're a lot like the original disciples for sheer diversity. We've
got life long Democrats and life long Republicans. We've got people with children and people with
no children, people with partners and people with no partners, people who grew
up in the city and "folks" who grew up in the country. We’ve got big people and little people,
middle class and lower class and lower upper middle and middle upper lower
class and a few with no class at all. And we're a messy, complicated lot. From
top to bottom and side to side we would make a fine study for an anthropologist
- or maybe a gaggle of German psychologists. They would be tapping their pipes
and knotting their brows and talking in loud whispers while scratching
furiously with their pencils. "Very interesting."
Even for our small size, we are a human zoo. We are a hodge-podge. And the only
thing that holds us together is the risen Christ in our midst.
How do we know that it is Jesus and
that we're not just self-deceived? For one thing, because of the way we treat
the Thomases among us. And I suppose at one time or
another, or maybe from time to time, we are all Thomas. His Greek name was Didymus, which means "twin," Did he actually have
a twin or was that nickname metaphorical because he embodied so clearly the
dual nature, the divided mind, the inner battle we all share as a part of the
human condition? Or maybe he's called the twin because he is our twin, if you
understand what I mean. He is one of us, our kind, our mirror image, if you
will.
We have nicknamed him "doubting
Thomas" and so he is. But we might just as well call him "cynical
Thomas." Remember when Jesus decided to go on down to Bethany when Lazarus
had died, even though he was heading into clear danger so near to Jerusalem, it
was Thomas who said, "Well, we might as well go die with him!"
(John 11:16). Or we could call him "practical Thomas." When Jesus got
a little too metaphysical and esoteric in his preaching, Thomas brought him
down to earth and asked him to put it plain and simple. Remember when Jesus said,
Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In
my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I
have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a
place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I
am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.
It was Thomas who said to him,
"Lord, what in the Sam Hill are you talking about? He actually said,
“We don't know where you are going. How can we know the way?"
So Jesus said, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes
to the Father except through me" (John 14:1-6). Plain
and simple. I think we would all have liked Thomas, though he could be a
pain sometimes. He had a way of saying what everybody was thinking but no one
had the courage to say. No one else, that is.
But in his "title" story, doubting
Thomas shows us the complexity of doubt. It's not just one emotion, but
many. To be sure, doubt is cognitive. Thomas confronts something here that
isn't in the orbit of his ordinary human experience. But Thomas doesn't only
doubt because it offends his scientific sensibility to the cause and effect
nexus of the laws of geophysics. Thomas' doubt is also about his isolation. The
rest of his friends are buzzing about this powerful experience, but he is left
out. Where was Thomas that Sunday? Well, for one thing he didn't know it was
Easter. Maybe he stayed out too late on Saturday night or maybe it was raining.
Maybe he decided to sleep in or just didn't feel like getting dressed so he
missed God's greatest triumph! And you can bet your life I’m, not going
to let this opportunity pass without saying, "You see what happens? You
see what happens when you miss a single Sunday?" But just imagine how he
felt…left out, and you can imagine that he felt that way a lot because of
his habit of asking the hard questions nobody else wanted to ask.
Thomas probably had some guilt
behind his doubt, too, because he wasn't there when he should have been. Or
maybe he felt rejected, even unworthy since Jesus didn't wait to appear until
he was there. Maybe Thomas felt some fear, because if it's true, everything
will change and he will have to change and more may be required of him than he
feels capable of giving. So you see, Thomas' doubt
isn't all cognitive, not even mostly cognitive. It's emotional and relational
and spiritual. As Kahlil Gibran observed, "Doubt
is pain … too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother."
Faith always stands in tension with
doubt. Doubt will always challenge faith to move to a deeper and more
honest level. We need both doubt and faith. We need both within us. And
we need both among us. But most people don't want to hear doubt when they're
feeling faith. They don't want to question if the answers are too hard. They
don't want to be honest about their own wounds and sorrows and deep dark side.
They keep it pushed down and ignore it … they stay on the surface of
things because they lack the courage to deal with the reality that life is
messy, and that God is a mystery, and that things just don't always go the way
we expect. A lot of the baptized are
that way, and beware if you try to ask them about their own pain and struggles and questions because they will blame you for
asking. They will say things like, “I have a simple faith,” but I
don’t believe that faith is simple at all…I think it is complicated
and difficult and almost impossible at times.
But whatever we call Thomas, let us also call him
"faithful Thomas," because in spite of his cynicism, in spite of his
doubts, in spite of his anger and sorrow and pain, he did show up the next
Sunday. He stayed with it. He came back. If he hadn’t, he would never
have found peace for his disturbed spirit.
But by staying, there is possibility for healing. And whatever we may
call Thomas, let us also call him "courageous
Thomas," because it isn't easy to stick in there when you feel wounded.
And whatever we may call Thomas, let us also call him
"honest Thomas." What does he say? "Unless I see the mark of
the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand
in his side, I will not believe" (John 20:25). He got right to it. He
saw Jesus die. So he will not believe Jesus is alive unless he sees the wounds
to prove that it is the same Jesus and not just some demonic trick or group
hallucination. And where does Jesus connect with Thomas? Wound to wound.
Jesus connects with Thomas at the place of his pain to bring him to healing and
faith. You see, we can never get help until we admit we need help. We can never
find healing until we are willing to deal honestly with our wounds. There is no
cover up. The risen Christ is the crucified Christ who stands with us first in our crucifixions before he brings us to
our resurrections.
A lot of churches have a hard time
putting up with the Thomas’s among them because they seem too negative.
When everybody else is celebrating, they're saying, "Now wait just a doggone
minute." So it says as much about the disciples as it does about Thomas
that he is still there the next week and that he can feel free enough among
them to voice his pain and doubt. To me, that is a sure sign that the spirit of
Christ resides among them. The word "love" is never used in John's
story of Thomas and the disciples and the risen Christ, but of course, that's
what it's all about. "Nothing can separate us from the love of God in
Christ Jesus our Lord," not even our own doubts. And it's good to know
that it isn't up to us … or to the unfailing strength of our faith. It's
up to Christ, who has faith in us even when we are struggling to believe. But
the church helps us to hang in there by loving us until Jesus takes us by the
hand.
In Traveling Mercies Ann Lamott explains why
she makes her son go to church:
The main reason is that I want to give him what I found in the world, which
is to say a path and a little light to see by. Most of the people I know who
have what I want - which is to say, purpose, heart, balance, gratitude, joy -
are people with a deep sense of spirituality. They are people in community, who
pray, or practice their faith; they are Buddhists, Jews, Christians - people
banding together to work on themselves and for human rights. They follow a
brighter light than the glimmer of their own candle; they are part of something
beautiful.
Listen to the way she describes her own church:
When I was at the end of my rope, the people at St. Andrew tied a knot in it
for me and helped me hold on. The church became my home in the old meaning of home
- that it's where, when you show up, they have to let
you in. They let me in. They even said, "You come back now."
That's the kind of church we have here. That's the kind of church we ought to
be.
I know the church has a lot to answer for
what it's done to people in the name of Christ through the centuries. That's
the dark side, the human side of the church. The church has this dual nature,
too, like every human institution. But we don't fix it by running away from it.
If we did we would lose the positive side … the life-giving …
soul-healing side of the church. And if we abandon the church, we leave nothing
for the next generation. Because somewhere, somehow, even in the midst of the
institutional trappings and abuses of power, when a small band of disciples
gathers in an upper room, every Sunday, every Sunday, Christ is there in the
midst of them, healing their wounded spirits, breathing new life into them, and
sending them out into the world to love again
Time won't allow me to tell the stories
of all the ways I've encountered the risen Christ through you…the
members of this church. From the devotion of the Women United and their rummage sales, to
the commitment of so many of you to the food pantry and meals on wheels. Our newly formed Prayer Shawl Ministry that has
touched so many, and our first annual Thanksgiving feast that fed so many. Our church is filled with countless unsung
heroes who take time from their busy lives to make sure that our building is
well cared for and we are blessed by those who work behind the scenes to
conduct the business of the church. Those
are the kind of things we do day in and day out, or should I say, "Christ
does through us." We don't brag about them. We probably don't even
celebrate them as much as we should. We do them because we need to for the sake
of our own spiritual healing and growth. So don’t you see that it's Easter all
over again. Easter every Sunday, in the church created and sustained by the
spirit of the risen Christ.
Like many people, I have days when I
don't know if my life means anything.
There are a million people who could what I do, at least as well and
probably better. I don't feel that significant, but I know this much. I am part
of a community that is significant. I am a member of a people who here and
there and now and then through all our human quirks and foibles, in spite of
all our human faults and sins, reveal the presence of the loving God in
breathtaking, beautiful ways. And this church, this beloved community, makes a
difference. It matters. Christ has reached out his nail scarred hands to so
many souls here through you. And I feel privileged to be a part of it.
For many of you, that's why you're here
week after week after week. Christ meets you here as we journey with one
another. But I suppose there are some Thomases here
today too. You don't quite get it. It's not happening for you. Well, that's
okay. We're glad you're here. We're sorry for whatever adversities in life may
have put you in that Thomas frame of mind. And we only want to say, you come
back now. Keep showing up. Don't give up, because it's Easter today and Easter
next week and Easter every Sunday at Nekoosa United Church of Christ. If you
stick with it, and keep coming, sooner or later, like Thomas, it will be Easter
for you, too.
May we pray?
Almighty God, please understand. We do not doubt your power to do whatever,
but we doubt that you could love us that much, that you would include us in
your plans, that you would hear our prayers and heal our hurts. Risen Savior,
we believe; help our unbelief. Come among us here
again today, and if we cannot take your hand and hug your side, then let us
take the hand and hug the side of one of your disciples, who also has been
wounded but healed by God. Refreshing Spirit, renew us again today like the
wind and the rain … that we might blossom forth in joy and go out to be
good news to all we encounter this week, until you bring us back to Easter
again next Sunday, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Mary Anne Biggs, Pastor
Nekoosa United
Nekoosa