Second Sunday of Easter (B) — John 20:19–31
“Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul.” I wish Acts described Christian community today. But it’s mostly an ideal.
After seminary, I joined the summer staff at Bear Creek, our Lutheran camp up near Wilkes-Barre. As a camper, I saw competent and loving counselors, full of joy in their life together.
In reality, if you put that many teenagers and young adults together in one place, there will be drama. The teenagers couldn’t control their hormones, and were constantly in love or out of love or feeling betrayed or spurring jealousy or back in love again. The young adults managed to focus on work instead—and made drama out of it. He never does anything, those kids are exhausting, she’s terrible and doesn’t care about the kids’ feelings. The two head counselors had no respect for the other, and were constantly unintentionally hurting each other. The only thing binding the staff together was their dislike of the full-time program director, who was “so mean,” by which I really mean “responsible adult.”
And since I was a mature thirty-year old, I kept myself out of all of that drama. Completely. Always. 100%. Okay, I finally succumbed our last week. Someone complained about the way someone else was treating them, and I decided to holler at the other person for it. It didn’t go well, and within two hours, I’d apologized for butting my nose in where it didn’t belong.
It’s strange that Thomas is missing from that Easter evening gathering. The disciples had to keep the doors locked. John’s Gospel says it’s “for fear of the Jews,” but it’s specifically some of the powerful religious leaders who conspired to have Jesus killed, and it makes sense that they’d aim for his followers, too. Is Thomas missing because he’s afraid? He thinks his friends are now unsafe?
The disciples don’t yet know about the resurrection. Peter’s seen the empty tomb, but not Jesus himself. Mary encountered him in the garden, and she told everyone. But it’s difficult to believe without seeing it yourself. The disciples are still grieving Jesus’ death. Is Thomas too broken-hearted? Does he think this whole Jesus thing has proven false, with the death of their leader and friend?
So the risen Jesus appears in this little community, and Thomas misses it. He appears in a locked room. He brings peace to their fear. He sends them out to continue his work. He breathes the Holy Spirit on them, and gives them the power to forgive sin. And Thomas misses it all.
Is Thomas hurt? Is he angry? Why would Jesus show up when he isn’t there? Did Jesus leave him out on purpose? Afraid and angry and full of grief, Thomas refuses to believe unless he sees for himself.
He refuses to believe, but at least he does show up next time. We love to blame Thomas, the apostle who doubted. But he proves his faith by coming back, by being there next time Jesus appears, by being present to see his hands and feet, to touch the place where the nails and spear cut into his flesh. Thomas may not have believed, but he did have faith.
We tend to confuse those two things in our language. They are related, but they’re not the same. When we believe something, it simply means that we think that it’s true. When we have faith, it means we trust. Most of the time in Christianity, we say “belief,” but we really mean faith. Belief requires reason. Faith requires relationship.
And we’ve said it several times this year. In the Gospels, even the demons know who Jesus is. They have belief. Jesus wants our faith.
After all, he has faith in us. Jesus does not stand in the locked room with his disciples and ask, “But where is Thomas?” There is no accusation. And next time, Thomas is not the only one who comes back. So does Jesus. Jesus comes and joins his disciples a second time for one reason only: Everyone else has already seen him. He is there for the benefit of Thomas. If Thomas needs to see and touch to believe, he will let Thomas do it. And Thomas will see, and touch, and the relationship between them will proclaim out loud a more profound confession of faith than any of the other disciples: “My Lord and my God!” Jesus knew Thomas would come. He has faith in Thomas.
And he has faith in us. It is why he says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” This is not for Thomas; it is for our benefit. He wants us to know his blessing. We do not get to see, but still our faith grows.
Or do we? Perhaps we cannot see Jesus in the flesh, standing in the room in our midst. But we do get to see him in other ways. And especially, like Thomas and the other disciples, we get to see him in one another, in the community of faith.
It is a terrible idea to send our children into the middle of 3,000 acres of untouched woodland in northeastern Pennsylvania, and only give them the protection and guidance of a handful of overdramatic almost-adults. God is certainly good, but maybe there are better ways to celebrate his goodness than this? Gathered around a barely-controlled bonfire? Singing 70s-era folk songs and listening to unskilled semi-preaching, as the forest around us grows dark and the strange noises of the wilderness join along with our voices, and a big black bear wanders into our campfire circle looking perhaps for a evening snack.
Yes, a bear. Here we are, foolish young adults, a few dozen elementary-aged children, and a bear. Where is the program director? She has gone off to gather more water in case the fire loses control, a wise protection measure that only addresses a hypothetical, unlike the issue we are facing now. I wonder who will get eaten first?
Or I would have wondered, except that I was facing the front of the campfire circle, and did not see the bear. Neither did any of the children, who were also looking at our song leaders. It was only the mess of teenagers and young adults who knew what was going on, who were as dramatic as usual about the story later that evening. But in the moment…
The leaders switched to the noisiest song they could think of, and got the children to sing as loud as possible, trying to scare the bear away. Others leapt into the woods to try to lure it toward them. Still more moved to the back of the circle, putting themselves between the bear and the children, without thinking of themselves at all. With all the activity, the huge, dangerous animal quickly turned and fled.
Yes, that summer, I lived with a bunch of practically children, full of the kind of crazy that age group can bring. I even got dragged into the drama myself. And I’d have trusted each and every one of them with my life. Literally. They were not always like Jesus. But I saw Jesus in them, often, and with joy.
“We declare to you what was from the beginning: What we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the Word of Life.” Not just what has been passed on to us, but what we have seen ourselves. Sometimes, to trust in Jesus, you need to see it for yourself. And because Jesus trusts in you, he will offer his hands and side, so that you may not just believe, but have faith. Amen.