I'll See It When I Believe It

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors on the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” When he said this, he showed them his hands and his sides, and the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. He said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so now I send you.” And after he said this, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven them. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

Now, Thomas (who was called “the Twin”) one of the twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus appeared. So the disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands, and put my fingers in the marks of the nails, and my hands in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later, the disciples were again in the house and this time, Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your fingers here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt, but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” And Jesus said to him, “Do you believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now, Jesus did many other signs which are not written in this book, but these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you might have life in his name. 

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“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

We’ve all heard that before right? “I’ll believe it when I see it.” I didn’t do any research about who said it first or if Thomas gets the credit for it, but that’s his sentiment exactly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” “Unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands, and put my fingers in the marks of the nails, and my hands in his side, I will not believe.”

Maybe we’ve said it ourselves – “I’ll believe it when I see it” – not about things of faith, even, but about anything unexpected or hard to believe or too good to be true.

Like, that lottery ticket you bought on a whim being the big winner. “Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Or like your kid cleaning up his room without being asked. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Or, like that chronically late friend actually showing up on time. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Or, like so-and-so who wants to believe that this relationship will be the one that sticks. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Some of us are naturally more cynical and skeptical than others, but we all do our fair share of doubting the difficult or unlikely ways of the world around us ... sometimes for very good reason. But I thought of a story this week that made me think differently, this time around, about what Jesus might be up to with Thomas, that’s different – and not so simple as – “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The story goes that there was a wise old woman who, for years and years and years, weekend after weekend after weekend, took the bus into and around the city. She loved the city for all of its hustle and bustle, for all of its people and places, for all of its colors and food and shops and more. And, as much as she loved spending time in the city, she loved the bus ride just the same, because she liked she loved to watch and to talk with the people who would come and go at each stop along the way – especially the young people who were new and curious and so green about it all.

One day a young woman sat next to her on the bus and explained that she was new to town – she had never been to the city – and she wanted to know what it was like. The old woman asked her, “What have you heard? What are you expecting?” And the young woman – eyes smiling and full of excitement – said she heard it was beautiful and fun and full of food and lights and interesting, colorful, kind people. She couldn’t wait to get there and wasn’t sure she’d ever want to leave. The wise old woman sitting next to her, smiled and said, “You’re in for a treat. That’s exactly what you’re going to find in the city.” The young woman thanked the old lady and bounded off the bus, wide-eyed and smiling as she strode off into the city.

The next weekend a sullen young man plopped down in the seat next to the wise old woman, on their way into town, and grumbled his way through her attempts at some small talk. She asked him why he was in such a grumpy mood on such a beautiful day and he said he wasn’t looking forward to his visit to the city at all. He’d never been there before and he expected what he’d heard to be true – that the city was dark, dirty, and dangerous, that it was loud and crowded, that the people were mean and that he would be ready to leave as soon as he got there. As he moped his way off the bus, the wise old woman wished him good luck because, she said, that was exactly the city he was going to find when he got there.

Never mind, "I'll believe it when I see it." The point of the story is that the opposite is true a lot of the time, isn't it? "I'll see it when I believe it.” What we believe sets the stage for what our hearts and minds and eyes will see and experience. We can believe ourselves into happiness and joy and contentment and peace. Or we can believe ourselves into sadness and fear and anxiety or worse. I’m not pretending this is so cut-and-dried or easily done for any of us, but so much of the time, we see and experience what we believe – or what we’ve convinced ourselves – to be true.

And I wonder if this is something like what Jesus had in mind in those first days after Easter. I wonder if all of this showing up behind closed doors after the resurrection and his willingness and desire to show Thomas what seemed too good to be true is an even deeper lesson in what it means to live a life of faith than it looks like on the surface of Jesus's scarred sides and holey hands.

What if, when Jesus says to Thomas – and whoever else was paying attention – “blessed are those who have not seen [yet] and have [already] come to believe” – he’s saying something like, “You’ll see it when you believe it.” 

Now, there might be no amount of faith or belief on your part that will clean your son’s room or change your friend’s knack for being late or mend someone else’s relationship woes. But our willingness to have faith or hold space for possibilities we can’t always see, might actually change the way we experience the world for ourselves – and see God alive and well in the world around us.

Like, if we believe there can be forgiveness by God’s grace – for us or for someone in our life – we might be able to not only imagine that forgiveness, but we might find a way to receive it, or to offer it up, too. “I’ll see it if/when I believe it can be true.” 

Or, if we believe there can be healing from some kind of hurt or brokenness in our life, we might start looking for ways to facilitate and manifest that healing in ways that actually bring it fruition. “I’ll see it when I believe it.”

Or, if we believe there can be new life or a second-chance or some resurrection after a tragedy or a loss or a failure, our eyes might be more willing to look for and able to actually see new life, or a second chance, or resurrection when it shows up to surprise even the most cynical among us.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” “Blessed are those who have not seen [yet] and have [already] come to believe.” Or, “You’ll see it when you believe it.”

See, I think Jesus knows this faith and belief stuff is hard. I think that’s why he kept showing up for those first disciples – and especially for Thomas, the one who had such a hard time believing – for good reason – what seemed too good to be true.

Because who knows what was troubling Thomas at the time, after all. Maybe he couldn’t get his son to clean his room. Maybe Thomas was the one who was always late and that’s why he wasn’t there the first time Jesus appeared. Maybe his relationship was on the rocks. Maybe his wife had breast cancer. Maybe his father was in the hospital, or his best friend was dying, or he’d just lost his job, or his dog had died. Maybe he was as scared as the rest of the disciples about what was next for them all, now that Jesus had been crucified, died, and was buried.)

Whatever the case, Jesus wanted Thomas to believe that that wasn't the end of the story; that there was more and better waiting for him by the grace of God. And I wonder if Jesus wanted him – and wants, us, too – to believe this, first, so that we might look for and come to see the very real presence of God among us in real, surprising, loving ways because of it.

Like that wise old woman on the bus in the city, maybe Jesus longs for us to believe in and to expect more of God’s grace to find us on this side of heaven, so that we might go looking for it – especially in the broken, wounded, fearful places of our lives – so that when it shows up in our midst, we’ll be ready to recognize, reach out, touch, receive, and share that kind of grace with the world in his name.

Amen

Open Coffins and Empty Tombs

Mark 16:1-8

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

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I read an article, just last week, about the fact that Ralph Waldo Emerson visited his wife’s tomb back in March, of 1832. His wife’s name was Ellen Tucker and she’d been dead for over a year and half by then. She was 18 and Emerson was 24 when they met in 1827. They were married in 1829. And she died less than two years after that, of tuberculosis. So she was only 20.

Of course, there’s nothing note-worthy about a still-grieving husband visiting his deceased wife’s tomb a year and a half after she’d died. What is noteworthy about Emerson’s visit – is that he opened the coffin to see her. And he wrote a note about it in his journal. Just a note, too. Nothing more. All he wrote was, “I visited Ellen’s tomb and opened the coffin.”

So, scholars are left to wonder what he saw… how he felt… why he did it in the first place… and what effect it had on him. He was still journaling to his dead wife as though she were alive at this point, so some say he remained in such grief that he just had to see her body again, for himself. Others believe, because of that grief, he had a desperate desire, still, to be with her. Someone even suggested Emerson thought his wife might be a vampire.

Even more curious, is that Emerson did it again. Not with his deceased wife, Ellen this time, but with the son of his second wife, Waldo, who died at the age of 5, in 1842. His son’s coffin was being moved from one cemetery to another, 15 years later, and his father opened it to look inside and see his son. Like before, with his wife, he never said more than that he had done it, according to his daughter.

The gist of the article – the details of which I’ll spare you – is that Emerson’s coffin-opening expeditions, as private and curious as they were and are, changed him. He did his most prolific writing during the span of time between the opening of Ellen’s coffin and his son’s. And in that work, there is apparently a discernable transformation of his faith and philosophy, his move toward Transcendentalism, and more.

Of course, all of this made me wonder about the women at the tomb that first Easter.

Their reasons and expectations for being there were clear: They had a job to do. They had come to anoint the body of Jesus. It had only been a few days, not years, since he had died and was buried so they were much more certain about what they would find, I imagine. Or so they would have believed.

And, obviously, what they found – or didn’t find, as it were – changed them, too. He wasn’t there. There was no body to see or corpse to smell. There was just some messenger with instructions: “Don’t be alarmed. You’re looking for Jesus. He’s on his way back to Galilee, like he told you. Go and find him there.”

Like Ralph Waldo Emerson – at least, initially, and according to Mark’s Gospel – they didn’t say much about it. With the women at Jesus’ tomb we know that “…terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” I can only imagine there might have been some measure of terror, amazement, and maybe even fear for Emerson, too, though for very different reasons.

Of course, none of this is really about Ralph Waldo Emerson or Mary Magdalene, or Mary, the mother of James, or Salome, either. I wonder what brings us here so early this morning. Who are these weirdos – you and I – who get up at the break of day on Easter morning – many of us year after year – to be the first to peek inside the tomb?

Some of us are grieving, maybe. Or expecting to, sometime soon. We might be afraid of something, ourselves, perhaps. Or curious about what things will look like in the strange, new, post-Covid world of the days to come. Some of us long for the familiar words of hope we know we’ll hear. Maybe we want or need to be reminded or convinced that that grave really was empty. Maybe some of us are simply looking forward to a promise or a song or a light in the darkness we don’t feel compelled to explain

Whatever the case, I hope what we see and hear at this empty tomb changes us.

I hope this Good News of new life and resurrection and forgiveness and joy moves us this time around – for the first time, maybe… or again… or in a new way, perhaps, yet to be determined.

I hope maybe being here again, for another Easter, reminds or inspires us to not be so afraid of looking death in the eye – our own, or that of someone we love.

I hope Easter’s Good News moves us to find some measure of hope at the graveside in spite of the grief and sadness that naturally come with it.

And I hope this moves us, compels us to find, to meet, and to introduce the living Jesus of God’s love and grace and mercy to the world around us because of it all.

Amen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.

(You can read the article I referenced here.)