The Second Sunday of Easter, April 11th, 2010

Acts 5: 27-32
Psalm 150
Rev 1:4-8
John 20:19-31

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. AMEN.

The Sunday after Easter is always this Gospel-Doubting Thomas- and is usually often called Low Sunday. Are those two names connected, that is, do we not show up because it's the week afar Easter and we're, so to speak, liturgically hung over, or do we remember (sort of) that it's Thomas again, and we so we don't come. Do we not come because the story is too familiar, or because we're ashamed of Thomas, a most rational man much like us, and so we're a bit ashamed of his doubt.  Skipping Low Sunday I can empathize with deeply- we did celebrate last weekend in high style, great detail, and glorious worship-one more thank you to each and all of St. John's; it was a remarkable and splendid communal set of liturgies.

Some people weary of Thomas. Every year it's the same. He wasn't there when Jesus showed himself to his disciples, and every year he stubbornly refuses to believe except with his own eyes. Then, that doesn't even turn out to be enough for him. Even when he finally shows up with the disciples (and where do you imagine Thomas was when the other disciples encountered Jesus? Was he planning what to do next away from the disciples, or was he indeed doing the work Jesus had set them each to doing, that is, do you imagine him in or out of the disciple-fold, not that we can know that either...) and Jesus reappears, he still doesn't believe that it's Jesus, until he pokes at him and in him.

Some people find it unnecessary, demeaning, or just dumb that Thomas didn't accept and know that Jesus had risen, and that the disciples had truly seen him again. These people find doubt somehow alien to belief. Ann Page Stecker reminded me of Milton's line about God's gift to humanity, humanity being given "sufficient to have stood, but free to fall." These people find doubt insufficient for standing, and a sure cause of falling. Nonsense. What are those things about which we can be absolutely sure? Often they're ones we've checked out for ourselves, things we don't have to trust anyone else for.

When Thomas, or when we, doubt, when then, why and how do we check it out? When is easy-when it's worth it to us, when we care enough to want to know whether it-whatever we're wondering about-is true, probable, or test-worthy. That means as soon as possible if it's something we care about. Why we check things out is because we care about the answer. How we do it takes whatever means we, humans can devise to and for the task. The idea that concepts or realities that are unlikely or hard don't need to be checked out, again, is silly. Of course they do, and only people who have no imagination, already are persuaded or are bullies would try to dissuade us from such proof. Checking out is basic. For core beliefs, checking out is necessary, and often has to occur many times, in waves, at our various life stages. Doubt and reassurance, doubt and knowing, doubt and checking it out- all happen over life's big questions often at each stage of our development, and it's the way we get solidly to be ourselves at each of those stages.

Thomas's doubting is characteristic of all humans. He was healthy in wanting to just check, to know for himself, to see for himself that his beloved Lord had indeed returned to his friends and had risen. Thomas saw Jesus, not believing that the unlikely unbelievable story his friends reported: that Jesus was back. Even though Jesus had said that after he died, he would return after three days, it did seem improbable, so Thomas checked. Each of us would have had to do that too, one way or another. Maybe we would have showed up on time and would been there at the first appearances, or maybe we would have been doing something seemingly more important, and thought the disciples were simply pulling our leg or were delusional. It would have been very hard to believe that sort of implausible story, so Thomas, and so we, checked it out. We weren't there, but Thomas was there for us, doing just what some of us would have needed to do. He demanded his own viewing and then actually poked Jesus to finish the checking process. We find it both extreme and a relief;  we don't really have to do such checking because one person, like us, had done the most extreme form of what we'd have wanted to do.

That's not what makes Thomas special, though. He knew as well as we do, that some reasonable checking, examining doubts, was both reasonable and acceptable. Sometimes though after checking, people get stubborn and say, "That proof isn't enough for me." They say, "I want more special, individual, personal, more complicated and more acceptable proof. Your proof won't satisfy me. I want my own new proof." Thomas didn't do that. He asked for a whole set of proofs: presence, touching, feeling, talking, and even a little pause for thinking.

Thomas concluded, "My Lord, and my God." He didn't say, "Welcome back, good friend." "How are you, friend?" "How was it, Jesus?" He'd known Lazarus, so he'd had some experience of welcoming back someone who'd been identified as dead, and was now clearly back. He didn't confuse what he'd seen and known with Lazarus as what he saw in that locked house's room with Jesus. He had processed what he'd heard from the other disciples already, because when he experienced his own proof, he was able to spring to the truth. Jesus had risen; Jesus was there. That is what elevates Thomas's pressing for his own experiential proof to a memorable assertion of faith.

Thomas demanded proof, and Jesus urged him to go after the entire truth he sought.  Thomas then understood the whole consequence of what he'd asked to examine. He recognized that what he saw and experienced was radically astonishing and yet believable.  "My Lord and my God" is a title of more than friendship, previous association, or honor. Thomas asserts that his friend, now restored to his group in a somewhat different form or way or appearance or look or person, is to be forever identified as Lord and God, for him personally and for all who could hear that good news.

Thomas didn't hesitate. Thomas didn't guess or down play what he was seeing. Thomas celebrated his understanding and the reality he was proclaiming to the world forever. He was a little pushy with Jesus, and an insistent latecomer. Jesus tolerated Thomas's demands, and he apparently understood that Thomas would both get it and respond impetuously, immediately, and clearly. Thomas doubted, thus risking the right to fall, to equivocate, question further, or not decide. Thomas didn't just exhibit the strength to stand on his own. He leapt into the role of mentor and exemplar for all people who ever hear the gospels.

It is the speed with which Thomas accepts what he is seeing and experiencing, as eternally enough for him and for all, that makes his statement, a timeless proclamation. He is eager to proclaim as truth, what he now understands as knowing.  He teaches us not just by affirming our responsibility to check out mysteries, but also by his positive, joyful shout. His joy and confidence make him the hallmark for demonstrating the eternal probity of our faith. It wasn't his honest human doubt, nor his doubt examined and satisfied. Thomas shows us a way to understand and accept this most profound of all mysteries of faith, with clarity, confidence, and celebration. "My Lord and my God." Good news.   

©  Katharine C. Black 11 April 2010