Easter 2A, Acts 2:14a, 22-32, 1 Peter 1:3-9, John 20:19-31 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder, Chaplain Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi April 3, 2005 All praise, O Lord, for Thomas Whose short-lived doubtings prove Your perfect two-fold nature The depths of your true love. To all who live with questions A steadfast faith afford; And grant us grace to know you, Made flesh, yet God and Lord. -- Horatio Bolton Nelson   In the Name of the Risen Christ. Amen. Thomas--this questioner. Thomas--this some time doubter. Thomas--professor of the faith. Questioning. Longing. Needing. Hoping. Wanting. Waiting. Doubting. The dark nights of the soul. They've taken shelter for fear of what's happened. The third day has become the first. They're gathered there, huddled in the nooks and corners, and all the spaces between: hope-lessened, helpless, wondering what has happened. "Am I okay? Are you okay? What's going on out there? What will happen next? What have they done? What have we done? Why?" The questions abound. They go through the rituals that they know - because it's all they know in those moments. They ask: "Where do we go from here? How have we changed? How has everything changed?" [Pause.] Thomas had trouble believing. We don't know much about him, but we do know that he had some issues fathoming the depths of just what the disciples reported to him - that Christ had risen and that he had indeed visited them. Our last encounter with Thomas is before the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, when he offers a comment that can be read several ways: as a statement of deep conviction that would take Thomas and the others to the point of death with Jesus, or as a brash statement of what this Jesus was getting them into. Either way, there is a deep sense of commitment expressed in his statement to follow Jesus to the end. Here in today's gospel lesson, though, Thomas' conviction seems to be in flux. At this point, all Thomas knows for sure is that Jesus has died. All he knows runs through his mind: "I've given up everything to follow Christ - this Messiah. And now, all of it is gone. Everything is in ruin. He's gone. What can we do? What will I do?" Thomas is disoriented. They are lost. They all need direction. [Pause.] There's so much in this world of ours that can "throw" us for a loop … that can dumbfound us … leave us speechless … take our breath away … confound us. We've witnessed a lot in this past week that seems disorienting to us and the world around us, haven't we? … the publicly-played-out, long-coming deaths of two people visible for all to see. One in a Florida hospice amidst strife and conflict, heated words and exchanges, leaving more questions and bewilderment for many than answers and surety, for others a sense of justice and right-ness … The other a welcomed, yet still heart-touching, rest for surely one of God's most widely recognizable and faithful servants--peaceful, watchful, unifying--yet both losses leaving some gaps for us who have witnessed it all … the frenzy … the turmoil … the ugliness … the piety … the inspiration … the serenity. "Where do we go from here? What do we do now? What next?" the disciples ask themselves. These are our questions, too. This season of Easter is one of hopefulness. It is about resurrection and life. It is about transformation and all of us being made new--whole. And this happens even and especially in the midst of death and all that is dying or changing in our very sight--those times when we long for Jesus to come to us and say "Peace be with you. … Don't worry. Just be easy. I'm here." All of us know these dark moments in our own lives … moments filled with questioning, confusion and uncertainty--moments when we're not too sure how we'll bear it through the day. For me as an aspirant for Holy Orders and about a year into my discernment process, I told my spiritual director that there were some mornings that this whole "priesthood thing" was the last thing I wanted to think about or own up to. I told him that I woke up some days asking myself, "What are you doing?!" Yet at the same time, I knew in my heart of hearts that this was the path I was not only being led down, but the path with which God was walking alongside me. It wasn't a question of call so much as it was rooted in frustration--frustration over the ups-and-downs of the process, the hurry-up-and-wait of it all, the in-between-ness of feeling not in control of my own life at times. I was comforted by his assurance to me that there are plenty of days when he leaves his office, asking similar questions. He told me he'd be really concerned if I wasn't having some of those thoughts and feelings, which was, of course, reassuring. I have to tell you that I've had my questions all along the way, my frustrations, my own turmoil - my own dark nights. I suspect we all have, somewhere, sometime at some point within our lives--and in different situations. Thomas' "fault," if we can call it that, was that until he saw the risen Lord, he was stuck. He was stuck in a mode of thinking inside the box - and certainly within the confines of that room. Jesus certainly hadn't performed a miracle to get down from that cross! Thomas and the others feel abandoned, alone, lost and confused. They had experienced the high times in their life and journey with Jesus; and now, they are scared. They don't know what the future holds. They are at the lowest of lows. The disciples are huddled in a locked room in fear. It's fear of more than the Jews. It's the fear of unknowing, of uncertainty. It's the fear that life at any moment could take yet another turn. They're full of despair. They're paralyzed. They simply don't know … Then suddenly, Jesus is with them. He's in that secluded and lonely place. He's not dead. He's alive. He's there--not past, but present to them. And Thomas misses it. He can't believe what he hears upon his return. It's all just too much for him to comprehend, … and time goes on. A week passes. They're all still stuck up in that room! They're all still huddled together in that same place--even having seen the risen Christ--which just might speak to the doubts and shortcomings of them all, and for this, I think Thomas has gotten a bad rap--as the doubter. Thomas never says that he absolutely will not believe. He says that "unless" he sees, he will not believe. And I think, this simply points to his frustration more so than his doubts. Of all of them there in this second scene, Thomas is the only one who hasn't seen for himself! In the first scene, Jesus offered the others a glimpse at his wounds - maybe they wouldn't have believed it either had they not seen for themselves! But then it happens again - Jesus is with them. Thomas never asks to touch Jesus' wounds. Indeed Thomas does not question Jesus in that moment, but it is in that moment that he finds redemption and wholeness. He sees for himself, and maybe there's something of significance for us to note here in our own day. Jesus Christ, even in that altered state before his ascension, goes above and beyond for those he loves--he humbles himself yet again. Not only has he returned to them--all of them who are doubting or stuck in that place - he has come for the benefit of the one who feels left out of the loop, so to speak. You'll forgive me for using this play on words, but he offers himself holey, yet wholly and holy: wounded, open-sided, full of holes, yet totally, completely and at the same time sanctified … holey … wholly … holy. It is here that we see that Jesus is still the sacrifice, still that which is offered for all believers and questioners and seekers and, even doubters. And, what's more, he risks human touch before his ascension - something he had already warned Mary not to do. … If Thomas "cannot" believe; Jesus will again go to the extreme in offering himself. And this is our story, isn't it? Jesus' desiring us … We're broken, we're seekers, we're want-to-be-believers all the time. We all experience times of disbelief and confusion, dark nights and their solitude. And Jesus says in the midst of it all: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." He stands as an offering for all and for all time--this is our Good News. Before any of this, we're human. We're weak. We're fallible. We're broken. And in all of it, we are called to rejoice, that the Good News of the risen Christ be spread in this world--this world of shattered dreams and promises, hopes and lives, and in the very midst of sickness and death and suffering, injustice, inequality, racism, class-ism, disparity of wealth and anything else that compromises human dignity. We are called to believe and to testify to the risen Christ in the face of all of this. We are called to believe and to testify to him who keeps on giving and giving--the Christ who continues to come to us and says: "Peace be with you." Thomas offers us what has become one of the Church's most basic confessions: "My Lord and my God!" Jesus' touch-offering is not to shame Thomas; rather Jesus gives Thomas what he needs for faith as he has done so many times before in the Gospels. Jesus offers himself to Thomas in order to offer himself for us today--that we may believe and that we may rejoice in it--here, celebrating the second Sunday of Easter in the midst of an aching world. We've heard the Good News. We've experienced it, and now we are called to share it. Thanks be to God for Thomas! We are Thomas, and we proclaim the risen Christ! Alleluia, the Lord is risen! The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia! Amen.