John 20:19-31
Welcome to ‘Low Sunday,’ the first Sunday of the fifty days of Eastertide. After all the jubilation, misery, and rejoicing of last week, nothing can hold a candle to Holy Week. If you take a few seconds, you can figure out why it is called ‘Low Sunday.’
This Sunday is also called ‘Divine Mercy Sunday.’ By the end of this sermon, you can probably figure out why.
Today’s gospel reading is one of the best-known Eastertide gospels – that of ‘Doubting Thomas.’ No matter how nonreligious, most people have heard about ‘Doubting Thomas.’ We seldom hear the name of this disciple without the label of ‘Doubting.’
You may be interested to know that in the first three gospels, we are told nothing at all about Thomas. He is just a name in a list of the disciples (Mark 3:18, Matthew 10:3, Luke 6:15), a faceless man among the twelve. In John’s Gospel, he emerges as a distinct personality, but even then, there are only 155 words about him. In his book, The Fourth Gospel: Tales of a Jewish Mystic, Bishop John Shelby Spong states that the writer of John created Thomas as a metaphor with a unique personality of ‘doubting.’ His story has entered the world’s vocabulary and in everyday conversation. People who doubt or question the status quo are called ‘Doubting Thomases.’
Let’s set the stage.
Your best friend just got murdered - executed. You could have helped Him escape, but you ran away instead. You’re angry and disappointed, not only with yourself but with your friend. He said He could handle it and was big enough to avoid it. He said He was the Son of God. Or at least, that’s what you heard.
People know who you are. You were inseparable for years. You witnessed His “crimes,” and you know you were an accomplice. And you are scared. You are thinking, “How will I get out of this? How am I going to get out of town?” Dashed hopes and a once bright future are dark.
Can you picture the scene? The doors are locked; the room is dim. There is a low murmur of voices in the background as you sit in a corner and review the contradictions, injustices, and your role in the horrible death of your best friend.
My imagination has quite a lot to work with as I envision that room that evening. The disciples discovered that not only was their Master dead, but His body was gone. I am pretty confident we all have been in that spot, in that room, at some point in our life. We have all let ourselves down, failed our friends, and betrayed with much wickedness. We see our sins, know our hearts, and become very good at beating up on ourselves.
Here were the disciples of Jesus sitting in failure, betrayal, confusion, disappointment, shame, and guilt. The disciples misunderstood Jesus’ teachings, misinterpreted his miracles, and even were misdirected by their culture as they followed Jesus. No wonder they were afraid.
But I wonder, “What do you see in that room? What do you see after betrayal, disappointment, sin? What do you see “after”?
I’ll tell you what I see. I immediately see “Fear.” It is pronounced and natural – the disciples fear the temple authorities and lock the doors. After disappointment and betrayal, there is fear.
Where does FEAR come from? It is self-generated, based on our interpretations of what we see. A simple acrostic for fear is this:
False
Evidence
Appearing
Real.
Fear is something that we all have to deal with. It was Dave Barry, that great humorist, who said, “All of us are born with a set of instinctive fears - of falling, of the dark, of lobsters, of falling on lobsters in the dark, or speaking before a Rotary Club, and of the words “Some Assembly Required.”
When I was a child, my sisters and I thought it fun to scare each other. One of us would be screaming hysterically in fear, and the others would be howling in laughter.
But real fear is not at all funny. “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear,” said H.P. Lovecraft, and fear makes you do things you would typically not do.
Fear was understandable for the disciples, and it is fundamental for us. Most of the time, it comes because we do not understand what we see. The disciples were human; they did not understand. They were afraid of being locked up and crucified. They were fearful of the Jewish temple authorities.
The notion that a dead man was alive again was not exactly something you easily absorbed. Thomas speculated aloud what it might take for him to believe. As he talked, his rhetoric got more and more exaggerated.
“My friends, I’d have to see the nail holes in his hands with my own eyes.
No, tell you what, I’d need to touch those holes with my finger.
Better yet, I’d want to stick my whole hand right into his side where the sword pierced him!”
But when Thomas saw Jesus, he believed.
But not only do I see fear in that room, but after fear, I see forgiveness.
I see forgiveness demonstrated by the first words of Jesus when he entered the room.
“Peace be with you!” (John 20:21)
Not “Where were you guys?” Not “How could you have let me down?” But,
“Peace be with you” (John 20:21)
Forgiveness from the start. How often do we fail to ignore forgiveness by bringing up the past with someone? How often do we make sure the other party knows how little we think of them, how much it hurts?
I see forgiveness demonstrated by the assignment he immediately gave them.
“I am sending you as the Father sent me.” (John 20:21)
He immediately indicated his trust in them by giving them an assignment, a task, a command to carry on his work. I see forgiveness demonstrated by the gift Jesus gave them, the gift of the Holy Spirit, as an initial gift to enable them to accomplish the task He had just given them. These disciples finally believed in both the death and resurrection of Jesus.
And I also see forgiveness demonstrated by the authority He gave His disciples, the power to carry on the work that He had begun. Not only does He send them out and enable them, but He empowers them. He gives them His authority.
And finally, after the fear and forgiveness in that room, I see faith.
I see faith restored. Into that room walked someone they thought they would never see again. They witnessed in person the Living Lord and rejoiced. Seeing the resurrected Jesus restored their faith.
This Gospel of John shows us that there are different kinds of faith and that faith comes in different ways and intensities to people. People have differing needs and find various routes to faith. In John 20:8, the beloved disciple believes upon seeing the empty tomb. In John 20:16, Mary believes when the Lord called her name. The disciples here in John 20:20 have seen the risen Lord. And in John 20:25, Thomas says that he must touch the wounds —although that need seems to evaporate once he saw the Risen Christ.
I see faith shared. The disciples, in turn, witnessed to Thomas and brought him back the following week. They immediately began to obey the “sending” assignment by going to Thomas, who had missed the first experience.
Poor old Thomas gets a bum rap if you ask me. He wasn’t the first ‘doubter.’ The church is full of doubters. Martin Luther himself was a doubter.
Doubt is not the opposite of belief; the opposite of belief is unbelief. Doubt is an essential ingredient of faith. My search for the unbelievable, unseen Jesus led me to seminary. My doubting nature has fueled my quest for the historical Jesus. My doubts and my questions haven’t hindered my faith. On the contrary, my doubts and questions have nourished my faith.
And I see faith invited by Jesus. Without condemning or scolding, Jesus invited Thomas to examine the truth. He didn’t call him a “Doubting Thomas.” That’s a name we’ve invented for this man. I think we’ve done so because we see in Thomas our own unbelief. We usually condemn those in which we see our own sins reflected.
Jesus invites faith with gentleness and kindness, recognizing our need for evidence and blessing us with greater conviction. He does not condemn, nor does he resort to name-calling. He invites us to examine him, to know him. . . to have faith.
What, then, is this ‘faith’ we are supposed to have?
Faith is complete trust or confidence in someone or something. From a religious standpoint, it is a strong belief in God or certain doctrines based on spiritual experience rather than proof. Jesus went on to tell Thomas
“blessed are those who believe and have not seen”. (John 20:29)
We believe, yet have not seen.
Not only Christians, but all human beings live every day by faith.
• We go to sleep, assuming by faith that we will wake up.
• We kiss our loved ones goodbye, believing we will see them again.
• We drive to the grocery store with the faith that we will return home safely with our groceries.
• We plant our gardens in the fall with faith that they will blossom in the spring.
And most crucially, we live every day knowing at some point that we will die and somehow it will be alright. But we cannot prove that or understand what happens. These are all elements of ‘having faith.’
But does faith mean we do not doubt?
No, indeed, faith does not preclude doubt. If we are honest with ourselves, most people will admit that they are troubled from time to time with doubts about what they believe.
Even Saint Mother Teresa wrote of her doubts in her diaries, saying:
[But] as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see,
- Listen and do not hear-
-the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak.”
Even this holy woman had doubts, yet her faith was strong.
Doubt is “a feeling of uncertainty or lack of conviction; a hesitancy to believe; not being sure about something, especially how good or accurate it is.”
I submit that being a ‘Doubting Thomas’ and questioning life, especially its significant events or problems, is not bad. When we ask ourselves difficult questions, we get answers that can deepen our faith and provide us with the tools to move to a more purposeful life and a closer relationship with God. Indeed, we can learn a valuable lesson from Thomas: We can doubt and then move beyond doubt to faith. It is all right to doubt, but we must move beyond doubt.
So, when we doubt, we examine our lives to determine what is true, right, and good for us. That is the human process – it leads to a better understanding of ourselves, our world, and our relationship with eternity. And we must travel that journey at our own pace and in our own time.
So, is there a real purpose for doubt in our Christian faith?
ABSOLUTELY!
At the beginning of the text, Jesus appeared to the disciples, and they believed. They had to share it with others. Thomas was not in the room when Jesus first appeared to the disciples, and when he heard what happened, he did not believe what they were saying. Thomas had little faith in what the disciples said because it was unbelievable and needed more proof. Jesus was dead – he had seen him brutally tortured and murdered, and he saw his lifeless body buried in a tomb.
I leave you with this poem, ‘Thomas, Undone’
The unease you feel is not doubt.
It is hunger to go deeper.
You are not done yet.
Learn from Thomas,
who, when Jesus planned to go to Bethany, where they had tried to stone him,
said, “Let us go die with him.”
You want to see the scar of your betrayal and how love bears it.
You want to touch the wounds and enter the heart of
The One Who Suffers for the World and lives.
Now, more than before, you are ready to come and die with him,
let love undo you and begin again.
Don’t belittle your restlessness.
Let it lead you.
Reach out.
Even now, he is saying your name.[1]
Let us pray:
Almighty and ever-living God, who strengthened your apostle Thomas with sure and certain faith in your Son’s resurrection: grant us the faith to truly and deeply believe in Jesus Christ, that our faith may never be found doubting. Empower us to be carriers of that faith to others. Give us the ability to share it so others can know the grace of your salvation, your gracious gift of Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.
[1] Pastor Steve Garnaas-Holmes, ‘Thomas, Undone’, Unfolding Light
Delivered at Saint John’s Episcopal Church, Columbus, OH; 16 April 2023
