Gospel of John

"Eyewitnesses and Doubting Thomas" – John 20:19-31

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of 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.”  After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side and the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you.  As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  And when he had 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 is called “the Twin”) one of the twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.  So the disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.”  But Thomas said, “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 sides, I will not believe.”

A week later, the disciples were again in the house and Thomas was with them.  Although the doors were shut, Jesus appeared and said to them, “Peace be with you.”  And 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.”  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 in the presence of his disciples that 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.


By now, I suspect we’ve all heard, if we haven’t watched for ourselves too many times, that horrible video of the latest police officer shooting in South Carolina. In so many ways it’s being lifted up as just another sad, horrible, terrifying example of police officers misusing and abusing their power. In other ways it’s being lifted up as yet another example of how differently police officers – particularly white police officers – are inclined to treat people of color. In still other ways, it’s being lifted up as an example of something different, for a change, because the officer who did the shooting was arrested and charged and detained more swiftly than in other cases – and, some would say, the wheels of justice in that regard started spinning before public outcry and public pressure forced the hand of the powers that be. (In other words, it didn’t take a petition or a protest or a riot for the investigations to begin.)

And the reason for all of that, which can’t be disputed, according to some, is the eyewitness, video evidence of the shooting.

I don’t want to get into the particulars of the case and make too many assumptions about something most of us can’t know enough about yet – no matter what the video seems to prove. But what strikes me about all of it is how much hope and credibility and justification was added to the discussion, thanks to that first eyewitness video evidence.

What I mean is, those who have been protesting issues of police abuse and racial inequity in our justice system have put a lot of stock and credibility in this 5 or 6 minute video.

Finally,” they say, “there’s no way to dispute what we have assumed in so many other cases, just like this one over the years.” “Finally,” they say, “we can see – everyone can see – with our own eyes the injustice we’ve been protesting for so long now.” “Without this video,” they say, “this would have been just another black life that didn’t matter.” “Without this eyewitness video evidence, there would be another dead black man and another embellished, falsified police report and another officer, off the hook for bad police work – at the least; and for a racially motivated murder – at the most.”

All hail the eyewitness video evidence!

Until the next video is released, right? Days later, the dash-cam video from the police car was offered up for public consumption, and anyone who was or is inclined to dispute or deny or defend the actions of the officer in the first video has more, different eyewitness, video evidence to muddy the waters and to support another side to the argument. Because in that video we can see the dead man, Walter Scott, running, for reasons I have yet to hear explained, from what should have been a routine traffic stop for a broken tail-light. Now though, plenty of people have plenty of reason to wonder and to guess and to make up plenty of stories and pose plenty of scenarios that might have given the officer reason enough to justify shooting the way he did.

My point is, it seems eyewitness, video evidence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Which is what made me think of today’s Gospel… and that doubting disciple, Thomas… and that first Easter evening so many generations ago. As the story goes, Jesus entered the room on the evening of the resurrection and showed the disciples who were there his hands and his sides, and they rejoiced when they saw their Lord, risen from the dead. But, because none of them had their iPhone 6 handy… because there wasn’t a dash-cam to be found… because “selfie” wasn’t a word, yet… Thomas, who wasn’t in the room, wasn’t buying their story.

And who could blame him, really? (I always feel like Thomas gets a bad rap – forever being labeled, “Doubting Thomas” – and that he deserves a little defense of his own, here.)

These disciples had been down a long road of ministry and mission together, and time and again they had missed the point. They misunderstood Jesus’ teachings. They misinterpreted Jesus’ miracles. They misjudged Jesus’ intentions all along the way when he was talking with sinners, while he was healing the sick or when he was preaching about the Kingdom of God. And just the week before, leading up to his crucifixion and death, one of them betrayed him, another of them denied him three times, others fell asleep on him in the garden before his arrest and every one of them left Jesus in the dust to be taken away and crucified. So it’s no wonder Thomas doubted what these knuckleheads were telling him, really.

And I would say we’re no different.

No matter which side of this story in South Carolina we may find ourselves on, we can create plenty of reasons to doubt what one side or the other might be offering up to persuade us.

Which makes me wonder again about Jesus, who says, “Do you believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe.” I think it’s one of the holiest and hardest challenges in all of Scripture. Believe, in spite of what you can’t see. Believe, in spite of what you’ll never witness. Believe – have faith – trust in God’s grace and mercy and power and peace, even though you’ll never have the proof…the video evidence…the hands-on, eyewitness accounting of what you think you want or need or deserve.

But I think what we’re supposed to do is look for and find God – and God’s grace and mercy and power and peace – in ways that don’t always look like the eyewitness, hands-on, video evidence the world tells us we need. And I found some evidence of that this week, connected with this sad, scary story in South Carolina.

Someone interviewed Judy Scott, the dead man’s mother, about how she felt and about how she was responding to the trauma of having lost her son and having had to see it all – and to know that the world was watching it all – on video. Was she glad the officer was arrested? Was she hopeful justice would be served? Did she have an opinion about what that justice would look like? Was she mindful of the public outcry that could result, either way? I can’t imagine what questions she must be wrestling with these days.

But this woman, whose son was shot in the back four times and killed on camera for all the world to see just days before, said something like this: “I’m supposed to be really angry and upset and raging…but because of the love of God in me… I can’t feel like that…I feel forgiveness in my heart, even for the guy who shot and killed my son…”

“…because of the love of God in me…I feel forgiveness in my heart… even for the guy who shot and killed my son.”

“…because of the love of God in me…”

You can’t reach out your hands and touch that… You can’t see it with your eyes…  You can’t put your fingers into the holes of this woman’s broken heart…

But I think the God we’re looking for… the Jesus we seek… the resurrected Christ who seems as illusive to you and me, sometimes, as he was to Thomas, is alive and well in the world around us. This God lives within women like Judy Scott. And the power of this God lives within us, too, when we seek forgiveness; when we work for justice; when we practice mercy; when walk humbly; and when we live with hope in spite of so much evidence and reason not to.

When we do these things, when we live in these ways, we let the God that lives within us – the resurrected Christ – be revealed, in the flesh, working love for the sake of the world.

Amen

"Crosses and Flagpoles" – John 3:16-17

John 3:16-17

For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.


I was out to dinner on vacation a couple weeks ago and it didn’t go well. The Indiana Havels were out with the Arizona Havels – my brother and his family – in Phoenix, where they live, and we were dining with some of their extended family, who shall remain nameless.

As you might imagine, oftentimes the fastest way to kill a conversation with someone you’ve just met is to tell them you’re a Pastor. Sometimes, though, that revelation has precisely the opposite effect – it leads to more questions and more conversation and lots of interesting ideas – especially if a particular person has spent the ENTIRE day drinking many beers, in the sun, by the pool, and has also just sucked down a $38.00 glass of bourbon. (Just to be clear, I’m not a fan of bourbon, so I’m not describing myself in this instance.)

The short version of the story is that I was asked several questions about the existence of Hell; about who gets into heaven and how; about forgiveness and salvation and so on. And the others at the table knew enough about me and about my inquisitor so that no one was particularly optimistic about how my responses would be received. Everyone was trying to change the subject to anything but the topic at hand. It was that kind of dinner: when neither the food nor the check could get there fast enough; when, had I driven myself or had another way out, I would have taken a pass on the whole thing.

See, what started out as cordial turned surprisingly ugly, surprisingly quickly. And the straw that broke the camel’s back came when I suggested that, while it was admittedly hard for me to swallow or understand or accept a lot of the time, I am pretty certain that God will make room in heaven for all of us: for bigots and homophobes; for terrorists and murderers; for gay people and straight people; Republicans and Democrats; for conservatives and liberals; for criminals and for cats and dogs, too.

Yeah, the dog thing really got to him. I’m pretty sure that’s what ended the conversation actually. When he asked if dogs went to heaven and I said, “Yes. Even dogs. That God means to redeem and save all of creation – bigots, racists, homophobes and even dogs.” At that, my questioner stood up, threw his napkin on the table, called me something that starts with “a” and rhymes with “flagpole,” grabbed his drink and stumbled away.

And, believe it or not, the more I reflect on that conversation the more I realize that my justification for everything this fellow Christian found so unbelievable, so hard to swallow, so offensive, even, has everything to do with what we’re up to tonight.

See, I don’t pretend to be certain about a lot of things. But the assumption I bring to the foot of this cross – the faith that calls me here – is my belief that God is God; that God, being the God of all things, has the power to do whatever God desires to do; that if God sets God’s divine Mind and Will and Heart to accomplish something, then I’m pretty sure – and my greatest hope lies in the expectation – that God can and will do what God wants to do.

And, as the story goes, God so loved the world that God sent Jesus into it so that everyone would believe and have eternal life. And, as the rest of the story goes, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

In other words, what God did in Jesus – what God does, in Jesus – is take our capacity to save ourselves out of our hands. We have proven time and again that we are not equal to the task. We have shown, over and over that none of us is worthy or capable of accomplishing it – for ourselves or for anybody else. And what’s more, God loves us so much God doesn’t want us to concern ourselves with this work; God doesn’t want us to be burdened by the weight of something that’s beyond our skill-set or above our pay-grade. God wants us to leave the dirty work and the heavy-lifting of our salvation up to Jesus, so that we can get on with living different, liberated, transformed sorts of lives, as a result.

And this has implications that are as cosmic and other-worldy, as they are common and everyday.

What I mean – and what my friend at dinner wasn’t having – is that this Good Friday cross impacts how we imagine the far reaches of God’s eternity in heaven – whenever and wherever that might be. And this Good Friday cross also means to impact the way we live and love in this world right where we are. And, if we believe this…if we buy this…if we accept and put our faith in the power of God to redeem and to forgive and to save through Jesus Christ – then let’s let God do God’s thing – for us and for others.

Let’s stop asking who’s in and who’s out. Let’s stop worrying about who gets saved and who’s doomed or damned. Let’s stop trying to decide what is forgivable and what just can’t be overlooked. Let’s stop pretending God’s love and grace and mercy can be for “us” and not for “them.” Let’s stop qualifying some sins – like ours – as more forgivable than other sins – like “theirs,” whoever “they” might be.

And I would say we need only to look to the Jesus of Good Friday’s cross for the Truth in all of this. Because on the cross of Good Friday we see the Jesus who had dinner – broke bread and drank wine – with Judas, his betrayer. On the cross of Good Friday, we see the Jesus who promises paradise to the criminal hanging there beside him. On the cross of Good Friday, we see the Jesus who washed the feet of Peter, knowing full-well he would deny him and desert him in his darkest hour.

On the cross of Good Friday we see this Jesus who loved and served all people – saints and sinners, alike – and who, I have to believe then, died to redeem and to save all people, just the same.

Because God so loved – because God so loves – the world, that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life. And because God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

As I was leaving the restaurant after dinner that night in Phoenix a few weeks ago, I vowed to my wife and to my brother and to anyone who would listen that I didn’t care to ever spend another minute with the guy who caused such a scene. (I might have even called him something that rhymes with “flagpole,” I’m not sure.)

What I really believe, though, is that God’s going to have the last laugh somehow. Whether I’m big enough to let it happen in this life or if it will have to wait until the other side of eternity, Good Friday’s cross tells me there’s hope… and potential… and probability, even – because of God’s grace – that, like it or not, reconciliation happens; redemption comes; forgiveness can break through even the hardest of hearts, even the numbest of skulls, even the darkest of sins. Even mine. Even his. Even yours. Even “theirs.”

And if none of that’s true, then Good Friday’s cross was a colossal waste of God’s time.

But the coming of Easter tells me that just can’t be the case.

Amen