A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter
A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter – April 19, 2009 – Year B (RCL)
The Church of the Holy Trinity, Rittenhouse Square – The Rev. Diana Carroll
Then Jesus 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.”
In the name of God, the holy and undivided Trinity. Amen.
There is a famous Renaissance painting by Caravaggio that shows the events described in today’s gospel reading. It is titled, not surprisingly, “Doubting Thomas.” In the painting, Jesus is pulling aside his robe to show Thomas the wound in his side. With a look of utter astonishment—his eyebrows raised so high that his whole forehead is wrinkled—Thomas is leaning over and literally poking his finger into Jesus.
It’s such a startling sight for the viewer, that it takes a moment to notice that Jesus himself is holding Thomas’ wrist and guiding his hand into the wound.
It is a deeply fascinating image, and looking at it always kind of makes me squirm. I think the reason that Caravaggio’s painting is so powerful (and so famous) is that doesn’t gloss over the pure physicality of Thomas’ request. He asks not just to see Jesus risen from the dead, but to touch him, to put his hand in the wounds, to feel for himself the resurrected flesh.
Thomas wanted proof. Solid, tangible, physical proof. And who can blame him, really? Who among us has not, at one time or another, wished that we could have that same kind of proof? It would certainly make the spiritual journey a lot simpler and more straight-forward, especially in our post-Enlightenment, scientific age. Thomas’ doubt was not unique. Despite his less-than-complimentary nickname, what made him different was not his doubt at all. It was that he was given the proof that he asked for.
Thomas was able to see and touch the Risen Christ in the flesh, and so he came to believe. Now, there could be some exceptions, but it’s probably a safe bet that most of us here today have not had that experience. We are the ones that Jesus refers to as “those who have not seen.” At least, those who have not seen in the literal, physical sense. And so, not having seen, it is not always so easy for us to believe. Like it or not, we all have our doubts.
So what are we to make of Jesus’ words to Thomas: “Do not doubt but believe.” It is tempting—and many have fallen prey to this temptation—to separate these words out from the story and to treat them as a kind of commandment addressed to all Christians. Something right up there with “Thou shalt not kill” and “Love one another.” “Do not doubt but believe.” But this kind of interpretation tends to imply that doubt is in and of itself a bad thing. I’m sure we’ve all encountered strands of Christianity that claim just that. It’s a perspective in which doubt is viewed as the enemy of faith, a sign of weakness in a believer, something to be avoided and overcome. But I find this particular approach to doubt tragic, if not downright dangerous.
All too often, it has been used by those in authority to stifle dissent and discourage diversity of opinion. “Do not doubt but believe” quickly comes to mean: “Do not doubt but believe exactly what I tell you to believe.”
Let’s go back for a moment to the gospel story, from which these words come. When Jesus appears for the second time in the midst of the disciples, he does not condemn Thomas for his doubt. In fact, the first time he appears, the other disciples are pretty doubtful as well, until he shows them his hands and his side. Jesus does not condemn Thomas for his doubt. Instead, he meets him where he is and gives him what he needs to find belief.
Jesus says, “Do not doubt but believe,” not to everyone, but to Thomas alone. And in that moment, with the answer to his doubt standing right in front of him, how could Thomas do anything else besides believe?
Jesus did not condemn Thomas’ doubt, and he does not condemn ours. Doubt is not a sign of weakness, as some would have it, and it is not the enemy of faith. Doubt is an inevitable and even essential part of the journey of faith. When someone tells me that they have never doubted their beliefs, I usually find myself feeling concerned. I wonder how solid their faith can really be
if it has never been tested by doubt. Doubt is a vital ingredient in the messy process of wrestling with our faith and making it our own.
Not long before the Presiding Bishop’s visit, I had a conversation with one of the people who was planning to be confirmed. She told me that she was nervous about the confirmation, because she still had a lot of doubts, especially about the resurrection and about the divinity of Jesus. She was worried that it might all be made up. That maybe Jesus was just another charismatic religious leader, and that his followers were delusional or had simply lied. What if Christianity had it all wrong? However, she said, she was going to go through with the confirmation, and as far as I could tell, the reason had nothing to do with intellectual reasoning or scientific proof. It had to do with this community, and the people she had come to know here. The example of faith that she could see in them encouraged her to continue seeking a deeper faith of her own.
Friends, every one of us experiences doubt. We don’t have the kind of proof that Thomas wanted, the kind that could be seen and touched and felt, and we probably never will. But what we do have is a community of faith. A community that can sustain us in our times of doubt.
It has been this way from the beginning. Among the earliest believers, there were those who had seen the Risen Christ, and those who had not. In the community described in Acts, the apostles—the ones who had seen the Risen Christ—“gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus.” Many came to believe through that testimony, but I don’t think the witness of the apostles, however powerful, would have been enough on its own. People also needed something they could see and touch and feel. And what they could see and touch and feel was the community of believers: a community in which people sold their possessions in order to care for others. The life of the community itself was a witness to the resurrection.
It is the same for us. When people come through the doors of this church, they are not handed instant proof of the gospel message. They don’t see Jesus Christ walking around in the flesh or have the opportunity, as Thomas did, to poke a finger into his wounds. But what they do see
is us. They see a beautiful church, well cared for and well-loved, full of activity and life during the week as well as on Sundays. They see the pictures of the vestry and the staff in the back of the church, the photos of parishioners hanging on the pillars, the posters for events and community news. We, as a church, are the Body of Christ in this place – the Risen Body of Christ. It is through us that others experience the power of resurrection, it is through us that they come to believe, and it is through those around us that we can each find our own faith sustained.
But this will only happen if we continue to live in such a way that the Risen Christ can be seen and heard and felt in us. As we prayed in the Collect for today: “Grant that all who have been reborn into the fellowship of Christ’s Body may show forth in their lives what they profess by their faith.”
Look around. Christ is Risen. “Do not doubt, but believe.”
Amen.
