April 19, 2020
1 Peter 1:3-9 John 20:19-31
So. Thomas. Widely known as Doubting Thomas.
But what do we know about Thomas?
John 11:16 Jesus has heard that Lazarus has died and is ready to go very near to Jerusalem, which is a dangerous city for him. Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
So we know that Thomas has courage and is willing to accept reality. (He may also have a somewhat warped sense of humor.)
John 14:5 Jesus has just said that he is going to his Father, in whose house there are many dwelling places—that he will prepare a place for his disciples, who know the way to the place where he is going. And Thomas says, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”
So we know that Thomas is absolutely willing to speak up when he doesn’t understand something, and he wants clear, concrete answers.
John 20:19-31 Thomas is not with the other disciples, hiding in a locked house, when Jesus first returns. Could he be out and about, looking to put his life back together in the new “after Jesus” reality? Perhaps this pragmatic, courageous, reality-oriented man was one of the first to recognize that Things. Would. Be. Different. Now. And so he’s figuring it out, making it happen—maybe scouting the markets for eggs and bread … maybe for masks and toilet paper?
And then he comes back and all the rest of the disciples are going on about how Jesus—the one he last saw nailed to a cross—how Jesus was alive and had just been visiting with them. “We have seen the Lord!” they say.
And Thomas says, “R-i-g-h-t. Sure he was. What have you all been smoking, anyway? Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
It’s a week, a full week, before Jesus comes back to that house with the locked door and says to the disciples, “Peace be with you!” and then gives Thomas the proof he needs: “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!”
Lutheran pastor David Lose writes that he believes Thomas died, in a way, when he saw the Risen Lord.
Died to his old beliefs, died to his sense of reality, died to his deepest convictions about himself and the world. Which is why I wonder whether his exclamation, “My Lord and my God” was as much an agonized and bewildered cry as it was joyful, let alone exultant confession.[1]
Everything changed for Thomas after that. Everything changed.
What about for us, now? Are things changing? Are we dying to old beliefs, to our sense of reality, our convictions about ourselves and the world? Are we exclaiming, sometimes, “My Lord and my God” not just as joyful confession but as bewildered cry? “My Lord and my God, what’s happening? Are you still here with us?”
If that is true for you, I invite you to ponder the words of 1 Peter that Cheri read earlier.
You have been born anew into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. … You now rejoice in this hope, even if it’s necessary for you to be distressed for a short time by various trials. (1 Peter 3b, 6)
We have been born anew into living hope. We are being born anew into living hope. We will be born anew into living hope. Even if we’re distressed, for a short time, by various trials.
Thanks be to God!
Things are changing, and the promise is that we are being born anew into hope. Living hope. Hope that gives life.
Our General Presbyter, Matt Meinke, published something yesterday on Facebook that I found fascinating, including this information on the meaning of quarantine.
The Latin root of the word “quarantine” is “forty.” … In the 14th century, ships arriving in Venice from areas struck with the Black Death (bubonic plague) were required to anchor away from port for 40 days before docking. The Italians called it “quaranta giorni,” or “40 days,” which evolved into “quarantino.” The 40-day quarantine was so effective that it became standard practice in Europe for the next 300 years.
Forty days. I’ve talked with you about the number 40 in the Bible and how it doesn’t mean so much “the number between 39 and 41” as it does “a long time.”
The flood lasted 40 days. The Exodus lasted 40 years. Moses stayed on Mount Sinai to receive the Commandments for 40 days. Jesus fasted in the wilderness for 40 days. A woman was to rest for 40 days after giving birth.
The part of Matt’s post that was new for me was the idea that the number 40 represents change. The flood, the exodus, the introduction of the 10 Commandments … Jesus fasting … a woman giving birth: change!
So what change is happening in our country and on earth during this time? It looks like rivers are cleaning up and the air is becoming cleaner because of less pollution. I’ve heard some indications that people are turning to their faith more than ever in our lifetimes—the number of people from this church and beyond who show up each day for my Facebook Live Evening Prayers would indicate that.
I’m also hearing that, at least in some homes, people are praying—alone and together—more than before.
Those are some significant changes, and they bring to mind a book I came across about 10 years ago, called The Great Emergence: How Christianity is Changing and Why, written in 2008 by Christian writer and publisher Phyllis Tickle. In it, Tickle noted that throughout its history, Christianity has undergone huge shifts every 500 years.
- 6th century: Fall of the Roman Empire, rise of the monastic system
- 11th century: Split of Western and Eastern churches (Roman Catholic in Rome and Eastern Orthodox in Constantinople)
- 16th century: Protestant Reformation and Catholic Counter-Reformation
In each shift, she said, something new emerged and the old was purified even as it became less prevalent. (She also noted that each shift was not without controversy, or bloodshed.)
I’ve been preaching and teaching about this for years, and I’ve always gotten to this point and said, “It’s the 21st century. We’re due … But I have no idea what that will look like.”
Maybe … maybe this enormous change in the way churches are worshiping together (and meeting together, and fellowshipping together) is a piece of such a 21st century shift.
Maybe, in times when limited numbers of people can meet together, we’ll go back to the early church model and meet in people’s homes—with a Zoom appearance by the pastor and musicians, or with teaching by one or two of the people gathered there.
Maybe we’ll empower families or groups of friends to worship together on their own.
Maybe this national crisis will reveal to us real failures of our culture, our economy, our political system—and maybe the church will work together with other groups and people to truly make things better.
But there’s one thing I think we will need, if any of those things are to happen.
If we go back to Jesus’ first visit with the disciples hiding in their locked house, we see that he said to them “Peace be with you. Just as the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” And then, the scripture says, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”
He breathed on them. His breath, his pneuma—his spirit—the Holy Spirit—washed over them.
Without the Holy Spirit—the Holy Breath—we are only humans, doing what humans are capable of. But with the Holy Spirit, we are infused with God Breath, and we are emissaries of Jesus the Christ. With the Holy Spirit, we are Christians.
Breathe on us, breath of God. Breathe on us.
Alleluia. Amen.
[1] David Lose. “In the Meantime,” April 13, 2020 http://www.davidlose.net/2020/04/easter-2-a-2020-the-new-normal/
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