Doubting Thomas and the Body of Christ

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.

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This sermon is sort of a sequel to something I preached about 7 years ago. I went looking for it because of something my dad is up to this weekend. He’s making one of his fairly regular pilgrimages to the Kinross Correctional Facility, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, to visit a friend of his who is a convicted murderer. And he’s guilty, too, of first-degree murder. That’s not always the case, but he makes no bones about it. The crime was one of passion, fueled by drugs and rage and immaturity and ugliness and only God knows what else. He’s about 35 years-old now, and serving two life sentences in something like Siberia, as I imagine it.

Anyway, I always remember that on one of their first visits after he was moved into the prison this guy told my dad that he had read through the New Testament twice, and that he didn’t believe it. At the time, my first thought was to wonder about the last time any of us have sat down and read through the New Testament in its entirety, once, let alone twice.  My second thought – and what comes to mind very often when I read about Thomas in John’s Gospel – is how well “Doubting Thomas” might have gotten along with my dad’s friend, and so many of the rest of us for that matter.

I don’t think I’ve ever preached a sermon about Thomas without defending him, first. Christians talk about “Doubting Thomas” so much as though we haven’t… or don’t… or shouldn’t have moments of faithlessness and doubt; as though we wouldn’t have been right there with him in his skepticism or cynicism or reluctance to believe back on that first resurrection day. But the truth is, Thomas doesn’t ask for or get any more or less than all the other disciples got before they “rejoiced” at recognizing Jesus in that house after the resurrection – before they believed in this whole resurrection thing.

As the story goes, Jesus entered the room, showed the disciples his hands and his sides, and then they rejoiced when they saw their Lord. And the same is true for Thomas. He got just what he asked for, in the end, when Jesus showed up a week later and let Thomas touch and see the healing wounds of his crucifixion. And then Thomas rejoiced, just like the others, declaring with such faith and conviction, “My Lord and my God.”

And I always wonder if Thomas wasn’t cynical and doubtful so much of Jesus’ resurrection, as he was skeptical about what his fellow disciples told him they may or may not have witnessed that first night when Jesus appeared. And I don’t blame Thomas one bit for doubting those knuckleheads at this stage of the game.

Because remember, they’d been down this long road of ministry and mission together, and time and time and time again the disciples 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, Judas betrayed him, Peter denied him three times and, along with James and John, fell asleep on Jesus in the garden before his arrest. On top of that, every one of them left Jesus in the dust to be taken away and crucified. Why would anyone believe anything these guys had to say? It might have been crazier had Thomas NOT been skeptical about what they were telling him, if you ask me.

And, so this morning we’re supposed to consider the common ground, I believe that we and others share with Thomas, one week out; one week after Easter’s good news; one week post-eggs, and lilies; bunnies and the big breakfast and all the rest. 

What have we seen and believed? What have we heard and told to others? What have we experienced and shared with the world around us about this resurrection that makes or has made any difference – for ourselves, for each other, for the world?

And all of it makes me think about my Dad’s friend behind bars – and so many others like him – not a few of which I call my closest friends: those people, I mean, who don’t believe it; those who don’t buy it; those who can’t be bothered with what we preach, teach and proclaim and try to live by.

And I’m inclined to believe that the common ground they share with Thomas isn’t all about their lack of belief. I’m inclined to believe that – like Thomas – they have good reason to be cynical and skeptical and suspicious about all of this because of what they see so much of the time from Jesus’ followers. So many are disillusioned by the Church; confused and scared by the words and ways of so many “evangelical Christians”; they see so much hypocrisy in and through the actions of believers. They see betrayal as ugly as anything Judas managed; denial as mighty as Peter’s, and apathy as disappointing as James and John, sleeping in the garden.

All of this, if you ask me, is OUR problem – not theirs. I’m under the impression that our lesson for today – the greater challenge in this story of Thomas and his doubts – is more about the other disciples and their faithlessness than it is about Thomas, at all.

And that makes me stop pointing fingers at Thomas – and others like him – and start wondering, instead, what it is about my life and faith – and yours, too – and ours, together – that would inspire or compel belief in the lives of others, whether they’re sitting behind bars, or sitting beside us at school or at work, or sitting beside us at the kitchen table for Easter dinner.

Why would the people in my life believe anything I have to say about this Jesus? Why would the people in your life find anything compelling about the faith you profess? Why would or should anyone look to us, in these days after Easter, and be moved to live differently by anything we have to say or do?

So, over the past seven years my dad has enlisted a cohort of friends and colleagues who correspond with his friend, in that prison. (Not everyone wants a part of this, I have to say. The crime was horrible. And not everybody can stomach such a friendship. I get that.) But those who can send letters and birthday cards; Christmas greetings and, recently, deposits for his prison commissary account. And the goal, for me at least – and for my dad, from what I can tell – isn’t to proselytize; to change his mind; to prove him wrong; or to win his soul for Jesus. I think that’s something God already has designs on and plans for – which is Easter’s good news, after all.

My hope is that all of it – the cards, the letters, the prayers – and my dad’s face to face, hand to hand, one-on-one visits, more than any of it – my hope is that all of it represents for his friend nothing more and nothing less than the body of Christ, showing up behind the locked doors of a scary, lonely, dark, despairing kind of place.

Because that’s what Thomas got when the disciples’ words weren’t enough. He got the body of Jesus – present, pierced, wounded, and on the mend right there in the room with him.

And that’s what each of us is called to be and to look for in the world around us: the body of Christ – the very presence of love, forgiveness, mercy, grace, patience and generosity – so that all of creation, the lost and the found, the saint and the sinner, the bound and the free, might see, might believe, and might have life and hope and peace and joy in his name when we do.

Amen

Eat Together - Maundy Thursday - John 13:1-17, 31-35

John 13:1-17, 31-35

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.  The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself.  Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.  He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”  Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”  Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”  Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”  Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.”  For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you?  You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am.  So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.  For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.  Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them.  If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.  If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.  Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’  I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.   By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

So this is a Canadian grocery store commercial, for their “President’s Choice” brand of groceries. They’re mission is to “#eattogether” because, as they say, “so much good happens when we do.”

Eat together, because so much good happens when we do. Indeed.

And, on a night like tonight, I think we’re supposed to remember that this is more than a little bit of what God had in mind and what God has in mind for the Church, and for how we do what we do as God’s people in the world. I think so much of the time it’s meant to begin around the table – eating and drinking together, because so much good happens when we do. And I think too much of the time we’ve done just the opposite with the celebration of Holy Communion.

Unlike the commercial – cell phones and technology are not our biggest problem when it comes to what keeps us separated where the church is concerned. (I actually saw this commercial for the first time on my cell phone several months ago, so there’s that.)

But you know what I mean, right? Some of you have experienced it. Yes, it’s a special meal… a sacred feast… body and blood… bread and wine… broken and poured out for the forgiveness of sins; given for you, given for me; given for the sake of the world. There couldn’t be more weight or meaning attached to it all.

And because of that, too many people have gotten protective of it all. Too many people put up too many barriers about what this meal is or could be for God’s people – and for the world.

I had a conversation recently with one of our people who was laid up in the hospital. Very sick. Waiting for test results. Anxious. Afraid. So that when the hospital chaplain stuck his head in the door to ask if he was up for communion, the patient was glad to say yes and invited the chaplain in. After a brief conversation, though, the chaplain found out the patient – one of our people – was a Lutheran flavored Christian, and without much more to say, very little apology, and a quick prayer, the chaplain packed up his things and excused himself, because he wasn’t allowed – and Lutherans presumably weren’t worthy – of sharing the sacrament as far as his piety is concerned.

And I don’t mean to throw stones. We might do the same sort of thing in our own way, if we’re honest. There are some who question that children as young as those who will celebrate their “first communion” tonight should be able to… that maybe they shouldn’t be allowed to partake of the sacrament at such a young age. (Nevermind that most of these young people have been doing this for years, already.) People new to Cross of Grace are often surprised to see us offering the bread and wine to children and toddlers who sometimes have to take the pacifier out of their mouth to make room for the body and blood of their savior.

Still others worry about women presiding, about the un-repentant receiving, about the unbaptized, the unconfirmed, the uninitiated, the un-whatever having a place at the table. Welcome to why the Church is dying around us in too many ways and in too many places, as far as I’m concerned.

But what if what we did around the table of Holy Communion looked more like an invitation to dinner… to conversation… to friendship… to relationship… to joy and laughter and comfort and more. What if, we see what Jesus does for us in the giving of this meal, as something like setting up a table in the hallway of our lives? A table that gets in the way of all the things that get in the way of our willingness to look one another in the eye, to listen to one another, to love one another the way we have already been looked at, listened to, and loved by the God of our creation?

Because what Jesus does, in giving us this meal, is share it first with everyone in the room – even with Judas, the one who was fixing to betray him at that very moment. (If Jesus shares it all with Judas, his betrayer, and Peter, who would deny him, who are we to keep it from anyone?) What Jesus does, in giving us this meal, is humble himself – ultimately – by washing the feet of his friends and by teaching them what it means and what it looks like to love one another at all costs. What Jesus does, in giving us this meal, is offer himself – his body, his blood, his life and the love of God – for the sake of the world.

And I think our call is to get better at this. In our homes… in our neighborhoods… in our schools… where we work… And I think our call is to start here – in church, at worship, in the name of Jesus – who gives us permission in a way the world doesn’t always. And Jesus gives us more than permission. Tonight reminds us that Jesus gives us a command people, to love one another, to make room, to extend invitations, to remove barriers, to wash feet, to serve and to sacrifice in surprising, counter-cultural, rebellious ways so that the love of God can’t be avoided or denied or withheld for one more minute.

So let’s eat together tonight, because so much good happens when we do. And let’s let that goodness find us and fill us; to change us and to change the world by the grace we will see hanging on the cross and walking from the tomb, soon enough.

Amen