April 11, 2010

When I was raising my children, we lived at the end of a cul-de-sac.  At the top of the circle lived a family with kids the same ages as mine.  Coincidentally, (perhaps coincidentally) we went to the same church.  The two families, thrown into such close proximity so often, became good friends.  The kids played together all the time.  We grilled out together.  The moms took power walks.  Their dad taught all the kids to ride bikes.  I taught all the kids how to acolyte.  We knew and appreciated each other well.

What I observed about the father was that he was a solid, steadfast man.  He was loyal and dependable.  He loved his wife and was devoted to his children.  His driving ambition was to keep his family safe, secure and healthy in body, but also in spirit.  His career did not inspire or ignite his creativity.  He found his passion in his family.  My neighbor was clear and simple in his desires and in his orientation to the world.  He solved problems in black and white terms.  He was a most dependable go-to sort of guy.  He wouldn’t design a Sunday school curriculum, but if you needed a manger built to safely hold the live baby Jesus for the pageant, if you needed five pledge cards picked up and returned to church, he was who you called.  Steady, reliable, straightforward, my friend reminded me of Thomas the disciple. 

In the Biblical narrative that centers on the life of Jesus, there is little character development or many details about personality.  The accounts are plot driven.  We are given lessons and instructions.  We are presented with a time line and action sequences, but the qualities of the people who surround and accompany Jesus are rarely defined.  When an attribute is mentioned, there is a purpose and we are meant to take notice.  Think about the personal references made regarding the closest companions of Jesus.  What can you recall about Thaddeus or Philip, Andrew or the other James?  We know a bit about Peter and we know three salient points about Thomas.  Thomas loved the Lord.  Thomas was loyal.  Thomas had his faith shaken to the core and found a way to believe again.  We know these truths from three encounters.  When Jesus receives word that his good friend Lazarus is very sick and he is wanted in Bethany, his disciples urge him not to go.  They know there is danger in Bethany.  Jewish leaders are waiting to entrap him.  Jesus says despite the danger, he is going to the home of Mary and Martha.  He is going to see his friend.  Eleven of the twelve followers are less than eager.  They want to consider other options.  But, Thomas says, if he goes, we go.  We go even if it means we go to our deaths.  Thomas loves Jesus.  He believes in his message and he believes in him as a person and he will not let Jesus face trial alone.  If Jesus says this is what needs to happen, then Bethany is where he needs to go.  Thomas puts personal fear and doubt aside, straps on his sandals, grabs his lunch and says “let’s be off, now!”

Later at the last supper, in a text we know well, Jesus tells the disciples that he will soon leave them and is going to prepare a place for them in his father’s house.  He says, “I will come again and take you to myself, so that where I am, there you will be also.  And you know the way to the place where I am going.”  But Thomas, ever loyal, ever devoted wants to be clear.  He doesn’t want any confusion or doubt about the directions.  Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?”  Thomas doesn’t care about looking simple or slow witted.  He wants to make sure he can stay close to Jesus.  He wants to be on hand to learn from him and love him, but also to help keep his friend safe, secure and healthy.  Thomas is really saying I don’t want to lose you.  Don’t wander far.  Keep me close.  We see the deep commitment.  Great belief is demonstrated.

And then we come to the scene described in this morning’s gospel passage.  The unthinkable has happened.  The worst nightmare has come real.  Despite Thomas’ care and diligence, Jesus has fallen into harm’s way.  The one Thomas believed to be God’s emissary, the Messiah, the Deliverer, has been brought low.  God did not protect his friend.  He himself could not protect or accompany his friend.  Thomas is heartbroken.  He is angry and confused, grief stricken and inconsolable.  This outcome is implausible to Thomas.  Having avoided death in Bethany, he thought Jesus was safe.  He thought God had spoken and a different plan was set.  While the other disciples have in their nature the ability to speculate and postulate possible meanings, Thomas is undone.  He put his whole heart into following Jesus and now that he is gone, Thomas is alone in his despair.  The others gather and theorize.  They converse and think about next steps.  They are all together behind locked doors and boarded up windows when Jesus comes to them.  There, they experience the “Risen Christ.”

Days later, when the companions finally find the missing, miserable Thomas and tell him that their friend, their Lord is still in the world, is still a present force, that all he said was true, Thomas wants to protect what is left of his heart and his sanity.  He is afraid to risk the remnant of his loyalty for fear he will be devastated anew and he won’t survive the disappointment.  From a place of deep darkness and sorrow he says, I need more than your words.  Words are words.  Today, I need more.  I don’t understand what’s happened.  I can’t trust anything anymore.  My world’s overturned.  I need something drastic and dramatic to turn it right back up.  I need something tangible to hold on to.  Nail holes and skin to skin contact, fingers to palms, hands to wounded side.  I need something real to heal my sorrow and help me back to belief.  Thomas, who loved the Lord deeply, states with utter honesty what he needs. 

My friends, this rare personal story is included in the fast paced, action packed narrative because God wants us to understand two important truths about faith.  First, Thomas the loyal, Thomas the doubter, is emblematic of us all.  Thomas, who loves the Lord, is part of this world and this world will test us and turn us and leave us confused and hurt.  We will lose sight of the Lord.  He will at times seem very far away and we may wonder was he ever real at all.  Maybe he was real, but was he really so powerful?  Is his legacy powerful enough – powerful enough to make a difference in our lives, powerful enough to impact the course of the world?   If Thomas, who walked with Jesus and heard him speak day by day and watched his effect on people and observed his personal charisma, could lose faith, how can we expect much more from ourselves so far removed from the personal physical contact with the Lord? 

Trial and worry, unpredicted, unwanted trauma will fall upon us.  Christ, who seems present and mighty in good, calm times, may fade in our minds when trouble closes in.  Belief may waiver.  Faith may sag.  Doubt may creep in under the door and through the cracked windows of our souls.  Doubt is part of the human condition and is not sin.  Doubt is not willful disregard of God.  It is the struggle to connect to God when the world intrudes on our relationship.  Thomas is our example of how solid believing humans will experience faith.  Sometimes we will be strong and stalwart, ready to march into danger, armed with conviction and confidence, and sometimes we will flounder and wonder and look hard for proof and assurance. 

This truth about our tenuous, flexible faith would be unnerving except for the example we have in this same passage.  Notice what happens to Thomas in his doubt.  Notice the Risen Christ’s response.  Within a nanosecond of the crucifixion, Thomas waivers.  He withdraws and suffers doubt.  But Christ does not leave him to flounder long, nor does the Son of God consign him to hell for his unbelief.  When Christ appears to the disciples on the 3^rd day and Thomas is absent, he does not demand a report on the missing apostle.  He doesn’t send one of the others to drag doubting Thomas in front of him for a tribunal.  Eight days later, when the small group is again gathered with Thomas now rejoined to the community, Jesus appears before them.  Before Thomas can confess his lack of faith, before the other disciples rat him out, Jesus says “Peace.” Peace be with you.  Thomas, come to me.  Thomas, I know what you need from me.  I know what you need from me to restore your faith, your equilibrium, and your trust.  Come, Thomas, touch me here and here and here.  Take from me what you need. I am here with you, in this moment, I am here for you.  Take what you need so that you can believe.”

As Kristen Johnston Largen reminds us, “Jesus appeared to Thomas even when Thomas’ faith had all but vanished in his doubt and despair at seeing his Savior crucified on the cross.  Like Thomas, even in the midst of our disbelief, and misgivings, God shows up.  God is there for us and God does not abandon us.”

Friends, in the trials and sorrows and dry desert places of our lives, when doubt and disbelief assail our souls and consciousness, remember – the courage to believe, the reasonable, rationale to believe is rooted in the God who appears when God we think we know disappears in the anxiety of our doubt.  When the God we count on fades in our doubt, look for, expect, wait on the God who comes into full view to answer and assuage our doubts. 

Doubting Thomas is Doubting Michael and Doubting Robert, Doubting Sarah, Doubting Maggie, the Doubting Everyone.  To answer all Doubters, the post-Easter Jesus who is the Risen Christ, the creating Father and the Holy Spirit let loose in the world make themselves known as we need so that we might believe and have abundant, eternal life.  And for this generous response to our uncertainty, we say – Thanks be to God.