Who knows what or who the freak to believe these
days? The 24-hour cable news cycle gives us
some facts and fecal tons of opinions. Even our president and his faithful
myrmidon little Sean Spicer seem to be a bit accuracy-challenged.
I’ve always looked at the assigned lectionary
for Easter 2 in the Revised Common Lectionary (See Acts 2: 22-32 and John
20:19-31) as a treatise on the issue of doubt versus belief. Who can believe a
news story which is just too darn good to be believed—that Jesus has risen from
the grave? We’ve playfully nicknamed one of the key characters in the gospel
story “Doubting Thomas,” and we hang that moniker on anyone who looks with a
suspicious eye on the potential of a good outcome. Just how do we go about
believing the report of the gospel, and how do we convince others to believe
it?
Heck if I know.
(Actually, I do know. We don’t really believe anything about the gospel unless
it’s revealed to our hearts by the Holy Spirit. At least that’s what Martin
Luther told us in his explanation to the Third Article of the Apostles’ Creed
in the Small Catechism.)
When I look at the story of Thomas’
skepticism today, I’m a little less interested in blaming Thomas for his
sour-puss attitude about the resurrection and more interested on how Jesus goes
about approaching his still-frightened posse. He entered into their place of
fear and uncertainty and showed them his scars (John 20:20).
Why the demonstration? Certainly he had to
prove that it was really him—their crucified
rabbi—they were seeing. But I also think he had to get some street cred, too.
It’s as if he were saying, “Hey guys! Look at these cool scars I got from being
a human being like you are. See? I hurt like you do. I know how you feel. I get
it. And you can believe me when I tell you that it’s going to be okay.”
I wrestle personally with how “human” to
be around my parishioners. I can say that I’ve been treated for depression, I’ve
gone to AA, I’ve felt the shock of losing a loved one suddenly. I’ve stood
watch waiting for a loved one to die. I’ve been divorced. I’ve been fired and I’ve
been broke, and I’ve wondered where the money was going to come from. I’ve been
disappointed. I’ve been frustrated. I’ve lost a baby before it was born. I’ve
doubted my purpose in life and wondered if I mattered.
You don’t need to know my stories, and,
for the sake of professional distance, I’d probably be wise to stay sketchy on
the details. But you do need to know that I hear your stories. And I get it.
Jesus gets it, too—much better than I ever
will. I mean, how could we learn to love a God who hasn’t felt our pain? How could
we know a God who won’t show us his scars? How else can we learn to love God if
not through the wounds of Jesus?
Something I really like about this gospel
story is how gentle Jesus is with Thomas and his doubts. He doesn’t ream the poor
guy out for not believing the news of his resurrection. He meets Thomas on
Thomas’ own ground and makes the offer to have him touch his scars. Jesus tells
him, “Do not doubt, but believe” (v.27). Jesus’ purpose is never to condemn,
but to welcome.
I guess this is the only Christ-like way
to deal with the doubt and unbelief of those we love. We’re called to be
welcoming in spite of their opposition, and willing to let them see our scars
and hear our stories so they may find us reliable witnesses.
God bless you, my friends. I appreciate
that you took the time to visit my blog!
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