Unless I See

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April 3, 2016 - Second Sunday of Easter

John 20:19-31

¹⁹When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." ²⁰After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. ²¹Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." ²²When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

²⁴But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."

²⁶A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." ²⁷Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." ²⁸Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" ²⁹Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

³⁰Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. ³¹But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

Sermon: “Unless I See”

Sometimes, you have to see something to believe it.  Case in point: my swimming ability (or lack thereof).  I’m a pretty terrible swimmer.  So terrible, in fact, that I was not able to pass the required lifeguard certification to be a counselor at a Presbyterian camp in college.  I tried, really I did, but it just wasn’t happening.  (And let’s be honest – who wants their child in the care of a lifeguard who barely passed their test?)  I failed.  I declared myself the 911-caller in the event of a water emergency.  My parents gave me a fake Olympic medal for swimming.  Bless their hearts.

The reason I’m such a terrible swimmer is because, as a 5-year-old, I did not see proof of what I was told.  You see, I was at beginning swimming lessons and was asked to float on my back.  The instructor kept her arms under me, and promised, promised, that she would not move them.  You can guess what happened.  She didn’t live up to that promise, and just as I relaxed staring up at the fluffy white clouds above, she moved her arms, and under I went. 

When I finally came up, sputtering in what felt like twelve feet of water (but was probably only two), I was livid.  I jumped out of that pool and stood there with my hands on my hips, three feet of solid, hysterical fury: “YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T MOVE YOUR ARMS!!”  Needless to say, I didn’t actually learn to swim until I was eleven and, even then, I’ve never been anything resembling Michael Phelps.                                            

Lesson learned: people will say anything, especially if they think it’s what you want to hear.  What we do is what matters.  The proof of words is in actions.

Which I why I have respect for Thomas in our resurrection story from John.  Jesus is alive – the women say it, finally the disciples see it and believe it, but Thomas, he’s not there yet.  “Unless I see him for myself, unless I touch his wounds, I won’t believe.” he says. 

Jesus later comes, just for him it seems.  Before Thomas can even ask, Jesus offers, “Touch, see, believe.”  And he does.  Poor Thomas, who’s been immortalized in memory as the “doubter.”  We don’t call him “scientist” Thomas, or “rational” Thomas, or “touchy-feely” Thomas.  We call him “doubter.” But aren’t we just like him?  Don’t we all need proof, to varying degrees? 

Don’t we all need the assurance that words and actions match: that the words that Jesus was risen match the wounds of his resurrected body?  It’s why we look for God in the faces of strangers and friend, in butterflies, in gentle drops of rain.  It’s why we search for God in the stories of those who have searched before us, in the Bible.  (Like our John reading says, “But these [signs] are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God…”)  It’s why we pray in the artificial light of a hospital room, or the too-deep darkness of a living room.  We look, we search, we pray, because we need proof.

Proof that Jesus really is alive and at work in this world, that he hasn’t abandoned us to our suffering, fear and despair.  Proof that Easter wasn’t just for him, but also for us, bringing us new life in the most impossible of ways.  Proof that there is more, beyond the shores of this world, in a place of everlasting peace.  Proof that that peaceful place leaks into our weary earth when we need it most, breaking into the ordinary with the eternal. 

“Unless I see,” curious Thomas said.  Jesus might have rebuked him for his need for proof, but Jesus also offered his very self as that proof first.  He said, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."  Blessed indeed.  But how many of us believe without seeing anything at all? 

Most of us, myself included, need to see to believe.  Perhaps that’s why our text from John says that Jesus “did many other signs in the presence of his disciples” that didn’t all make it into scripture.  Jesus hoped people would trust in him on faith alone, faith as the assurance of things not seen, but at the exact same time, he accommodated their need for proof. 

So it is with us.  Sometimes, we are blessed with impenetrable faith that comes without signs or wonders.  But more often than not, I think we are tentative Thomases who find ourselves late to the resurrection party, fearing we’ve missed something essential.  Perhaps we’re afraid to experience God in the emotional or charismatic ways others do; perhaps we’re skeptical of the whole “Easter” thing anyway; more likely, we’re just too busy and distracted to dwell on anything too long, especially a God who seems to vanish into mist as soon as we think we have a hold on him or her.

But here’s the good news, the news Thomas had to see and touch to believe: resurrection keeps.  There’s no expiration date, no time limit on experiencing the One who gave death the boot.  Jesus comes to us before we come to him, offering his very self graciously, to help us have faith in him, ourselves and this world.

If we find we need a little proof to go on, wounds to see and touch, it requires the bravery of a doubter, a questioner, like Thomas.  It requires seeing the wounds -- how Jesus is wounded by this world – where people are abused, where people are treated as less than human, where fear and finger-pointing reign.  Where human beings react and retaliate, hurting the innocent again and again and again.  Where we ourselves grieve, and ache and long for beautiful life, in the midst of whatever mess we might find ourselves drowning in. 

Jesus is there, and he is showing us his wounds (which, as it turns out are our wounds, too), so that we will believe, and so that believing, we will do something about it. 

If it weren’t for Thomas, we might ignore the wounds altogether, and just focus on the shiny angels or rolled away stone at the resurrection.  But Thomas brings those wounds into sharp focus – to see, to touch – until we believe that new life is possible, even after death. 

Do you want to believe?  In God, in yourself, in this world?  Be a Thomas.  Ask to see the wounds, and recognize the Risen Lord who, though wounded, lives on, until all are lifted out of terrifying waters and held in the arms of a God who will never, ever, let us go.  Amen.