By the Rev. Alanna C. Sullivan
Associate Minister and Director of Administration
The Memorial Church of Harvard University
(The following is a transcript of the service audio, April 7, 2024)
Let us pray. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts and minds be acceptable in your sight, oh God, our Rock and Redeemer. Amen. It is said that seeing is believing, and certainly there is trust to that. Our scripture today, however, reminds us that sometimes believing is seeing. The disciples find themselves in a complicated, murky, and messy time. After seeing the empty tomb and hearing the news of Jesus's resurrection, they have locked themselves in a room, fearful of what awaits them on the other side. And it is here that Jesus comes to them.
At first, they don't recognize him. They do not until Jesus reveals his wounds. He then bestows mercy onto them and asks them to share his message of grace, love and peace with the world. It is easy to dismiss the disciples for not recognizing Jesus at first. Yet how many of us have found ourselves disoriented and wandering at times. At moments, we are overwhelmed by life, and we end up doing something that we regret. At moments we fail to recognize ourselves, let alone those around us. And hearing good news does not necessarily erase our fear, especially when we are filled with doubt and anxiety. So it's not all too surprising that a week later the disciples find themselves in the exact same place, hiding away together in the same house, behind the same shut door, overcome by the same fears.
So Jesus comes again. This time, Thomas is with the disciples. He missed their first encounter with Jesus and did not believe them. In other moments of the gospel story, Thomas has revealed to be a practical guy, so his response to their news sounds like the Thomas they know. "Unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands, and I put my finger in the marks of the nails, and my hand in his side, I will not believe." Can one blame him for needing some reassurance and certainty during this complicated, murky, messy time. After all, seeing is believing.
What I find surprising is not Thomas's doubt, but the sharing of his doubt publicly. He is not afraid to display his vulnerability. And what's more, the community of disciples don't rebuke him for doing so. Even in their own fearful state, they allow him to articulate his uncertainty without fear of mockery or retaliation. So when Jesus comes again, bolstered by the community's support and care, Thomas accepts God's presence in their midst. Jesus invites him, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it at my side. Do not doubt, but believe." And it's then that Thomas exclaims, "My Lord, my God," in recognition.
In addition to his vulnerability, Thomas reassures us faith doesn't have to be straightforward. Writer Debbie Thomas observes, "Rarely does change happen all at once. Often it creeps along ever so slowly and gradually, comes in sideways and in fits and starts." Anyone who has battled an addiction, stuck it out in a challenging relationship, or lived with chronic illness, knows conversion is a lifelong process. Thomas reveals that it is okay for us to take our time. It's okay to ask questions. It's okay for us to wander. It's okay for us to hope for more. This is a story about God coming to us, wherever and however we might be.
So, how do we know if God arrives in our own lives? I believe that the authors of John offer two clues if we have encountered God. First, Jesus says, "Peace be with you," when the disciples react with fear and Thomas reacts with doubt upon their first meeting after the resurrection. When life feels unmoored, our bodies are shaky, our souls are weary, our guards are up, Christ does not arrive with an argued defense or a rationalized response. Rather, he comes with a surprising proclamation of peace and touching love. Second, after Jesus says, "Peace be with you," it is quickly followed by an invitation to see his innermost parts. The scripture says that with the disciples, he showed them his hand and his side. And a second time with Thomas, Jesus invited him to put his fingers through his wounds. There is hardly a breath between the comforting words of Jesus and the revealing of those wounds. The peace of Christ is tethered to the wounds of Christ.
––
––
Theologian Serene Jones shares, "This story affirms that God comes in those moments when peace is offered. In those moments when life's most brutal. Violence is honestly acknowledged. And when in the midst of confronting this bracing honesty, we realize we are not alone." Christ's resurrected body is not unblemished without any sign of the trauma it has endured. Christ's healing does not mean that his body returns to its former state. Rather, Christ's resurrected body, wounded and healed, reminds us that some pain, some trauma will always stay with us. Our wounds are not pretty, and they certainly are not the whole story of who we are, but they are honest. And in that way can be seen as holy. Lutheran Minister, Nadia Bolz-Weber, founded a mission church in Denver called The House for All Sinners and Saints, affectionately known as The House. She has become a leading voice in the emergent church movement.
She tells a story about how her own alternative understanding of church was challenged. When her church started out, her congregants were, what she described as, hip, urban, young adults. About two years after she planted her church, The Denver Post ran a front page above the fold story about Pastor Nadia preaching at Easter. At that time, they only had about 40 to 45 people attending, and the next week The House doubled in size. Pastor Nadia really struggled with this spike in attendance. She reflects, "I freaked out. They could show up to any mainline Protestant church in the city and see a room full of people that looked just like them. Why are they coming? We were excited because we were really struggling to grow, but these were the wrong kind of people. I mean, the wrong kind of different for us. Some churches might freak out if drag queens showed up, but these were bankers wearing dockers."
So she decided to schedule a meeting to talk about the demographic change in their community. They had the meeting. Pastor Nadia told the newcomers about the story of the church's history, and the newcomers in turn told who they were and why they were there. Near the end of the meeting, Asher, a longtime member, said, "Look, as the young trans kid who was welcomed into this community, I just want to go on the record saying, I'm glad there's people who look like my mom and dad here because they love me in a way that my mom and dad can't."
Asher's vulnerable sharing laid bare the truth that we all need to be loved, and we might be surprised about where that love comes from if we're open to receive it. Honesty is sometimes an invitation for the holy, and admissions like Asher's become an extension of grace to those around us. They have the power to unlock places within our hearts that we are too afraid to share with ourselves, let alone one another. The passing of the peace is one of our beloved liturgical traditions. The ritual goes back to biblical times. What might it be if we took cues from Jesus in the sharing of that peace? Peace be with you, and I am tired from staying up all night worrying. Peace be with you, and I yelled at my child this morning.
Peace be with you, and I'm addicted to alcohol. Peace be with you, and I am all alone. The peace of which Christ offers is not one absent of conflict, not one that ignores our brokenness, not one that turns away from our pain. In fact, this is exactly where Christ will meet us to provide us assurance and care and compassion. Perhaps that is why God's peace surpasses all understanding, because we come to experience Christ's love where we least expect it. Believing in Christ's love, we are better able to see it at work around us. So yes, sometimes believing is seeing. The peace Jesus announces is also not one to be left behind locked doors. God calls us to share it with the world. Yet even if we are scared and fearful, with the doors of our hearts locked, trying to protect us from the pain and suffering of this world, God will still find us. Peace be with you. I am here. Thanks be to God.