NRSJohn 20
19 When 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. 31 But 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.
May the blessing of the Lord rest and remain upon you always for the sake of Jesus the Messiah. Amen
In the movie “Angels and Demons,” the Harvard symbologist Dr. Robert Langdon is called to the Vatican to help solve a terrible crime. But before he’s signed on, the papal camerlengo, or chamberlain, played by Ewan McGregor, has a question for the professor, played by Tom Hanks.
“Do you believe in God,” asks the camerlengo, to which the professor answers, “Faith is a gift I have yet to receive.” He’s certainly correct that faith is a gift, but what kind of gift is it? And how do you know if or when you’ve received it?
Over the years I’ve met with many people who struggle with faith. They tell me things like, “I don’t know what I believe. I don’t know if I can accept everything the church teaches. I don’t know if I’m a Christian or not.” What I’ve learned is that a good part of their struggle often stems from how they define faith. Some people define faith as the absence of doubt, so if they have questions or qualms about God, they then conclude that they must not have faith. Other people see faith as agreeing to a set of beliefs, so if they question the Bible’s seven-day account of creation or doubt whether the sun actually stood still in the sky at Gibeon, then they must not have faith. Still others identify faith with feelings like peace, confidence, or the utter assurance of God’s care, so if they feel anxious or worried, then they must not have faith.
If faith is either black or white, something you’ve got or something you haven’t; if it’s the complete absence of doubt or the willingness to believe whatever you’re told you have to believe, lock, stock, and barrel; then faith is a gift that a lot of us have yet to receive. Jesus’ faith in God was total, but that didn’t exempt him from his struggle on the Mount of Olives, when, says Luke, “In his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood failing down in the ground” (Luke 22:44). Many saints have cried out to God like the distressed father in Mark’s gospel, who pled with Jesus, “I believe; help thou my unbelief” (9:24).
Faith is not static. It’s not like God spoons out helpings of faith, with some getting more than others while still others get none at all. Faith is dynamic. Faith ebbs and flows; it’s up and down; it’s one moment solid like a rock and the next slippery as air. On the other hand, faith is not some rare, exotic element found only in the blessed. At its most basic, faith is what gets us up every morning. Faith is what keeps us from throwing ourselves off the nearest bridge. Faith is the assumption that life is worth living. Faith is the belief that some sacrifices are worth making. Faith is, in the classic formula from the Letter to the Hebrews, “the conviction of things not seen” (11:1), which covers a whole lot of ground, since we all give ourselves to work, to projects, to people, relationships, and goals for which none of us can ever clearly see the end. “For now,” says the apostle Paul, “we see in a mirror, dimly” (1 Corinthians 13: 12). So of course faith is a struggle, so of course faith is sometimes even a battle, even as we focus our faith on our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
The Gospel of John was written precisely for people like me and you who aren’t always sure, who wonder, who doubt, and who sometimes question whether faith is a gift we have yet to receive. The Gospel of John was written for people like Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus under cover of darkness, wanting to believe but not exactly sure how. John’s Gospel is meant for people like the Samaritan woman at the well, who can’t believe that God could ever include them among the faithful. But most especially, I think John’s target audience is embodied in Thomas, the apostle who just needs a little help to wrap his head and heart around the Good News of Jesus.
By tradition, today’s gospel is typically referred to as the story of “doubting Thomas,” and down through the ages preachers and teachers have pointed to Thomas as a negative example of how not to believe. But I don’t think John’s Gospel at all justifies that characterization. John first mentions Thomas when Jesus sets his face to go to Bethany where he will raise Lazarus from the dead and in so doing seal his fate with the religious authorities. It’s there and then that Thomas tells his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him” (11:16). I wouldn’t call that a lack of faith. When Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to prepare a place for them and that they know the place where he is going, it’s Thomas who has the courage to speak up, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” (14:5) When after his resurrection Jesus first appeared to the disciples, they were hiding behind closed doors, says John, “for fear of the Jews” (20: 19), but Thomas wasn’t with them. Why? Why wasn’t he there? Could it be that he was maybe the lone disciple who wasn’t afraid of being identified with his crucified Lord?
Thomas is not the bad guy in this story. He’s the human guy. He’s the guy like me and you whose faith lives alongside doubt and hope and fear and on any given day we may not be all that sure what’s on top. And the absolute, unadulterated good news of today’s word is that Jesus embraces guys like Thomas and the rest of us, however we may dither and doubt. Thomas’ faith doesn’t have to meet some divine standard before he can be accepted, but Jesus accepts him as he is, and in so doing gives him, in the words of that old Rod Stewart song, “a reason to believe.” Our Lord does no less for us. Christ doesn’t dole out his love for us based on the strength of our faith, but rather, his acceptance, his coming to us in Word and Sacrament and the community of believers, without condition, without qualification, is what gives us faith.
In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen
