"I do myself"

Every parent has experienced the 'I do myself' stage of toddler development.  It is that period when their will exceeds their skill and a parent's job is to hover very near by to avoid total disasters.  (And of course, to be able to discern what are totally beyond reasonable jobs for the little one to 'do myself').


Thomas, the famous Doubter, needs to see for himself.  Does he doubt the sanity of the other disciples?  Were they prone to punking one another?  Is he a skeptic in all things, including this so called 'sighting' of the risen Jesus?  Is he hungry, tired or so weighed down with grief he has no room for new knowledge or nuanced emotions?

Or, is Thomas just like every one else.  Until he 'sees', he cannot believe.  Until he encounters Jesus, he cannot believe.  Until the God who raised Jesus from the dead through the power of the Holy Spirit is somehow experienced, by him, in person, he cannot believe.  It's not that he doesn't want to believe.  He needs an encounter to move from his disappointment, heartbreak, maybe even despair, to hope.  He needs to see for himself.

So Jesus comes and makes himself known.  Not in judgment, not in sadness, not to mock Thomas or anyone else.  Jesus comes to bring Thomas the peace he needs, a peace that passes all understanding, the very peace which was made possible in the person of Jesus.

Faith is born from an encounter with God.  Faith in the risen one is born in that space between two people when forgiveness happens, or mercy is given, or love is expressed, or life slides into death, or, at the last, peace calms all things.

Behind locked doors

For those of us allowed the privilege of proclaiming the gracious love of God in Jesus on a weekly basis, the story of "Doubting Thomas" is familiar.  It is always the lesson assigned to the first Sunday after Easter.  If you been preaching for 20 years, you have wrestled with a message about Thomas 20 times.

Many times the message is about faith v. doubt.  Since I believe most folks have moments - months - years of doubt, I think this kind of reflection can be helpful.  I'm pretty sure I've preached a couple of these myself.

But this year, I want to talk about doors.  The story tells us that the disciples had locked themselves in an upper room because they were afraid.  Now the writer of the gospel of John says they were afraid of the Jews, but if you know a little bit about the community for which John wrote, you begin to realize that 'the Jews' was shorthand for anyone who strongly opposed this new way of believing.  So we might substitute 'the Jewish leadership' for John's constant harping on 'the Jews'.  I expect the disciples were afraid of the Romans who had the authority to arrest and execute whomever they wished,   But to compromise, let's use the phrase 'the authorities.'

The disciples were afraid of the authorities; they didn't want anyone to know where they were - huddled together, with the rank fragrance of sweat pooling in the small, airless room.  Ten men plus some women crammed in this room, scared to death - not just of the authorities, but of one another!  Who knew if there was yet another Judas in their midst?  I expect they kept a close eye on one another.....

....which brings me to doors. They locked themselves in.  They closed themselves off from the rest of the world.  They were suspicious of strangers and not really sure of one another I would guess.

None of which stopped the risen Jesus.  Not the door.  Not their fear.  Not their total failure to stand by him in his most agonizing hour.  Jesus simply appeared.

If a cross, a stone and a tomb can't lock you in, do you really think a locked door is going to keep you out?  Jesus simply appears - to bring a word of peace, which is a word of forgiveness and love.  "Do not be afraid"  he says.  A tall order on any day of the week.

Jesus steps into the center of their grief and paralyzing fear, not to scold or judge, but to bring peace.

.....which is what Jesus is doing today as well....stepping into all those locked places of our lives, places which hold grief, anger, wounds, fear, doubt, hunger....and offers us peace.  Not judgement.  Not guilt.  Peace.

Walk any street and consider what truths are hiding behind all those locked doors. Consider all the hurting people hiding themselves away.  Know that this Jesus won't let a locked door stop him from bringing a word of peace.  You can count on it.  You can count on him.  He's right there waiting to be peace in your life.

Do not be afraid of this one from God.  He comes in peace.

Remember when I told you?

Was it the same Upper Room?

OK, first with the caveats.  The story of Jesus' appearance to Thomas comes to us from the writer of the Gospel of John.  The idea that the Last Supper took place in an Upper Room comes from the writer of the Gospel of Luke.  There is a rule about taking details from one gospel and superimposing them on another.  Just the same, we tend to think of the Last Supper as taking place in an Upper Room, which leads me to ask, "Was it the same Upper Room?"

You know, that locked room where the disciples were hiding out for fear that they were the next ones on the Romans' hit list.....was it the same Upper Room?  In the same house?  Did the disciples....and Thomas....meet the risen Jesus in the very same place they had shared the Last Supper?

You can see the connections, right?  Jesus saying "This is my body given for you.  This is my blood poured out for you" in the very same place where he holds out his hands to show the wounds of the nails and invites Thomas to place his hand on his side where the soldier stuck his spear.

It is like an object lesson for all the concrete learners of the world, a divine 'graphic' to help us connect Jesus' promises with the really risen Jesus.  "This is my body"  which is simply another way of saying  "This is my love" and "This is my faithfulness." I can assure you I would have been second in line behind Thomas; there is nothing like a good concrete object lesson to cement my learning.

According to the Gospel of Luke Jesus told his disciples to remember him, (which really meant remember my love and my ministry and my connection to the Great Creator) whenever they shared that simple ritual of bread and wine, of body and blood, given out of love for this world and all the creatures in it.

Remembering is good, but I'd rather look around to catch a glimpse of the risen Jesus patiently waiting for someone to reach out and touch those wounds....for when we touch the wounds, we touch the heart of God.

from Alleluia to fear in an Upper Room....

It happens every year (or at least every year that follows the Revised Common Lectionary) - we leap from Alleluia to fear and hiding.  In one week.  In truth, the events happened much more quickly but we only gather for regular worship once a week so we need to wait 7 days to discover the disciples hiding out in the Upper Room.  With. The. Door. Locked.

One week.  But then we are much more skilled at fear than at Alleluia, and besides, we have had 2000 years to digest this outrageous news about a risen Jesus and we don't quite understand what it all means so I can give those disciples a break.  Fear is a more familiar companion to this lifetime than resurrection will ever be.

Fear is learned at our mother's knee; it is a critical lesson we must all master or be crushed by the powers that prowl the night.  Most days it wears the masks of respect or caution or good sense, but the ultimate message is this: great harm can come to us.  Physical harm. Emotional harm.  Spiritual harm.  We better beware.  In the end, it is all fear.

Fear that the fragile light of life that is us will be snuffed by other forces is the foundation for so many of our actions.  Exercise, diet, work habits, diligence at school, wearing our seat belt, smoke detectors, background checks, sunscreen, savings accounts.  On our very best days, we take all these threats to our continued life as necessary nuisances and we light birthday candles and build sand castles and play soccer and do crossword puzzles and simply get on with living.  On our worst days, our fear drives our interactions with friend and foe alike so we end up contributing to the deadly atmosphere around us.

So let us not look sideways at those disciples huddled in that upper room With.The.Door.Locked.  The door won't keep the fear at bay, but it gave them all a sense of false hope.  No one was going to sneak up on them; they would decide who got into that tiny hidey hole.

Yet, they couldn't and didn't and thanks be to God.  Jesus just simply appeared in their midst ignoring the locked door, ignoring their embarrassing silence just a few days ago.  There he was, standing in the midst of them, alive, forgiving, handing out gifts of peace to all.

It was the disciples, and not Jesus who carried a lingering odor of death, drenched in the sweat of fear.  Their racing hearts  warned them that death was at the door, seeking out an opportunity to crush the life right out of them.  In the middle of that scenario (our scenarios would feature courtrooms and ERs and dark alleys and sleepless nights) Jesus stands - life in the midst of death....inviting all who were present, and all who are reading their story....to leave death behind and embrace the life that is life, the life that comes through Jesus.

With the story of Thomas, we learn that Easter isn't just about Jesus.  Jesus was the first; now he invites everyone else to follow.  Sure the Romans were still at the door and they were pretty scary fellows.  But then, look at that empty tomb.  Look at my hands and touch my side.  The Romans aren't in charge.

Welcome to the resurrection.

It's not all about us......really

We all call him Doubting Thomas, although if you check Thomas out through the entire gospel of John you might change that to Impetuous Thomas.

But, as usual, we are focusing our attention on the wrong character in the story.  It's not Thomas' fear or doubt or unbelief that is at the center.  It is Jesus. Coming. Twice. Not detoured by a wavering Thomas.

Here, look, touch.  I am right here with you.

It's not about our wavering (In the gospel of Matthew, at the ascension some worshipped and some doubted).

 It is Jesus' faithfulness.

Really folks, it's not all about us.  We truly aren't the center of the universe.
The one who created it is.