Witness to the Resurrection: Thomas given 4/12/15

All along I had followed Him. From almost the first, I had been there. Me, Thomas, the twin. Didymus, the Greeks called me. But plain old Thomas was always good enough. I had been with Jesus when He called most of the others. I saw it all. I remembered it all. I was always there.

Oh, perhaps I wasn't always standing closest to Him, hanging on every word, talking and answering and questioning Him like Peter. But then again I never denied Him. Perhaps I wasn't a part of His inner circle, like Peter and Andrew and James and John. Perhaps I wasn't one of the dreamers, one of the ones He would occasionally take aside for prayer and sharing, like the one they called "Beloved". I suppose I was too earth-bound, too everyday for their flights of fancy--but I never fell asleep on Him.

Perhaps I wasn't as brilliant, perhaps I couldn't read and wasn't always writing down His every word, like Matthew. But I was always honest. I always admitted my ignorance and dared to ask when I couldn't follow what the Teacher said. After all, I never pretended to understand it all. Perhaps I wasn't as pious as Philip. But I knew that the Teacher had come from God, and so I followed. Perhaps I wasn't as dedicated to Israel's freedom as Simeon the Zealot. But I was the one who shamed the others into following Jesus into Jerusalem. Perhaps I wasn't as scrupulous about following the Law, as Iscariot, the other Judah.  But I at least, never betrayed the Teacher.

Judah Thomas the dull. Didymus the unimaginative. Thomas the doubter. That's what they called me. But for all their pretensions, for all their superiority, none of them were any better than me. Sometimes they didn't get His points either. Sometimes they would say or do the wrong things as well. Sometimes they struggled with faith too. And when push came to shove and the Romans took Him, I fled. We all fled. We all deserted Him..

I can recall those early days when we first gave our lives to follow Him.  He was so good, so right.  We all loved Him so much.  As first, I admit I was skeptical. That's my nature I suppose.  But the things He did, the words He said--the teachings, the miracles, the healings. Who could deny that He was a prophet? Not even I.

It took me a while, I admit, to come to fully believe in Him and His word. I had to see it with my own eyes. But after I did see, I believed. And after I came to believe, I followed. That's my nature, too.,

I'm not an especially imaginative man. I'm not especially demonstrative. I don't go in for fancy words and high-flown ideas. I am much more of a doer than a talker. When we were little, I would let my twin do all of the talking for the two of us.

But I know what it is to love. I know what it is to follow. I know what it is to love someone and let them become a part of you. I know what it is to stand at your twin's back and support him against the world. I know what it is to be loyal. And something in the Teacher brought all of that out in me.

I recall when we heard news of Lazarus' death. We had all loved Lazarus. But Mary and Martha lived in Bethany on the outskirts of Jerusalem.  And we all knew that the Romans and their lackeys were waiting there for us. We knew. Even I knew, dense old Thomas knew, that to get so close to the capital city was to court disaster. But the Teacher didn't seem to care.

"Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep," He said. "Let’s go and wake him." And the others just stood there--silent, not wanting to go, not wanting to be separated from the Teacher, not wanting to admit their fears. Finally I found my self speaking. Probably it was the very first time that noisy Simon Peter was speechless, while Judah Thomas the doubter had something to say.

"Let us go with Him to Jerusalem and die there with Him." I suggested. And I meant it. I was ready to follow along on any road He would care to act. I loved Him, you see.

I remember that night in the attic. After the procession into the capital. After the purging of Solomon's Temple, when he sent those bloodsucking merchants packing. I remember that night. After he washed our feet.  After the Passover meal. After that strangely moving sharing of the Cup and the Bread.  After Iscariot left. Then Jesus began to teach.

He spoke of not fearing. He spoke of following Him. Perhaps I didn't get all that He was trying to say. Nothing unusual in that. But then He spoke of going away. So, not for the first time, I admitted I did not understand. All that I knew was that if Jesus was going somewhere, I was going to follow Him. He said that we knew the way to where He was going. But where? I for one had no way of knowing where it was that Jesus meant. I was willing to follow, but where?

"Rabbi, we have no idea where it is that you are going. But we'll go with you if you tell us where. Lead and we'll follow. Which way are you going?" I asked.

"I am the way." He said. "I am the Truth. I am the Life."

 But before I could puzzle out what Jesus meant, there he was, teaching again. He spoke of loving God and loving Him,. He spoke of loving one another. He spoke of dwelling in God and God dwelling in Him, and he in us. That part I didn't get quite get. I did get the part about loving one another and following. But before I could ask Him about it, before much else could happen or be said, it was over,

Iscariot betrayed Jesus. I still don't know why. The temple police came and took our Teacher. And despite my best intentions, despite my love for Him, despite all that I had said and resolved, I fled. Looking back on that shameful moment, my only comfort is that the others fled as well.

The next few days were a living hell, I saw it all, with my own eyes. The trial, the torture, the crucifixion, the death. I saw Nicodemus and Joseph take Him down and bury Him in the cold ground. I wanted to do something, but I couldn't. There was nothing to do. He was dead. I saw that with my own eyes.

And I thought that it was all over. I guess the others came back together to the attic. I didn't. One thing about being dull and not having too much imagination, I find you're not quite so apt to quickly panic and despair. You learn to accept things as they come. It was over.  What was the point of denying that? It was a fact. I could accept Jesus as Teacher and follow Him because of what I'd seen in Him. I could accept that He was dead because of what I saw. I didn't like it. But I knew how to accept it.

I went out. I don’t even remember where I went. I just needed some time alone. I had loved Him, you see. I needed to grieve.

Then a couple of days later, I found my way back to the attic. They were all still there. And they told me this outrageous story. Jesus had come back, they claimed. He wasn't dead, they said. He had walked right through the locked doors without knocking, and had stood in their midst. He had blessed them with His Shalom.

He wasn't a ghost, they said. He had eaten a piece of His favorite fried fish. He had breathed the power of His Spirit on them. He had told, them, sent them out into the world to forgive sin and combat evil and proclaim His message of God's love,

That was where I drew the line. Oh, I recalled all the miracles. I remembered seeing Jesus resurrect Lazarus. I knew that He had some sort of mystical power, even over the grave. I had half-suspected/half-feared that something miraculous from God might happen. Not exactly this, of course, but something. But for them to baldly tell me that Jesus had risen from the grave, and had given them His Holy Spirit and sent them into the world with power to cancel sin. And for them to be still hanging around in that stuffy attic! It was too much!

"I'm sorry." I said. "I don't believe you. I could have believed, in Him. But not in you. If He really came to you, why are you still standing here--grinning like a bunch of fools? If He really breathed His Holy Spirit on you, why are you telling me? Why aren't you out in the streets proclaiming this amazing news to the world? Why aren't you telling your families and friends and inviting them to become disciples?  Why aren't you shouting it from the housetops?

If you really believe that Jesus is Risen, what in the world are you doing sitting here? Why aren't you out there telling the world? Why aren't you out there changing the world? Why aren't you out there challenging wrong and confronting evil and feeding the hungry, and forgiving sins, and healing the broken, and ministering to the needy?

Frankly, I can see no evidence at all in you that Jesus is risen.  If, as you say He is risen indeed, why aren't you doing something about it?" I realized that I was shouting at them.

"No, I don't believe you. I am prepared to believe Him, but not you. Unless I see Him, unless I touch Him, unless I can hold His hands in mine, unless I can put my hands into the wound in His side I can't believe. So don't tell me about eating fish. I've heard enough fish stories from the lot of you. If Jesus is truly risen, it certainly can't be proved by you!"

A week later, I was back with them. I'd recalled what Jesus had said about loving one another. I'd come back to apologize for my outburst. I'd come in hopes that this time I would see some evidence of Jesus' Resurrection in them, so that I too would be able to believe. But again, I could not. They still huddled there in that attic. They still hid their news from the world.

I was about to speak to them, when suddenly it happened. All at once, Jesus was among us. Again He blessed us with His Shalom. Only this time, I was there.  This time, He came up to me, Thomas.

"Look Thomas.  Look at my hands. Touch me. Touch my wounds. Look at my side. See the scar. Do not doubt any more Thomas, only believe." And at that moment, I could do no more than fall to my knees. I had seen. believed. I knew. I could not greet Him by name or call Him Teacher anymore. I could only exclaim,

"My Lord and my God!".......

"My Lord and my God." A total expression of faith. A total giving of self. It’s too bead we’ve stuck that “Doubting Thomas” handle on him.  Doubt isn’t unbelief.  Neither is it the opposite of faith.  Doubt is fundamental to a living, vibrant faith.  It keeps us honest.

It keeps our religion genuine.

            Frederick Buechner writes,  “…if you don’t have doubts, you are either kidding yourself or asleep. Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.

            Our doubts save us from religious complacency, that I’ve-got-all-the-answers spiritual arrogance that will most surely harden our hearts, alienate honest seekers, pollute our souls, ruin our relationships and lead to persecutions. It is our doubts that keep us humble, keep us questioning, keep us looking and listening,  keep us examining the beliefs and principles that we claim to live by.

            The poet Tennyson wrote:

            There lives more faith in honest doubt,

          Believe me, than in half the creeds.

"My Lord and my God." A total expression of faith. A total giving of self.

 Then scripture tells us, Jesus then told Thomas,

"So you believe because you have seen. Blessed are those who believe without seeing." Despite that promise of greater blessing, I myself find it hard to imagine any believer who would not willingly have traded places with Thomas at that moment-- and held those ruined hands, touched that wounded side. Sisters and brothers, Judah Thomas the Twin rose up from his knees a new man.  Doubting Thomas rose up Thomas the Apostle.

Legend says that Thomas didn't even wait around for the Day of Pentecost. The early church believed that Thomas got up and walked from the Upper Room, carrying the Gospel on foot all the way from Palestine to India. We know for a fact that Orthodox Christianity has been on that sub-continent since at least the Third Century. The Christians of South India still believe that it was Thomas the Apostle who brought the faith to them.

Thomas wasn't so much of a talker as a doer. The church of Jesus Christ could use a few more like him. Think about it. Never again will someone be able, as Thomas was, to believe, simply because they have seen.

All of us who call ourselves by the name of Christ from that day on, have had to believe, solely on the basis of the witness of Jesus' followers. If you and I really believe the Good News of Easter, where does Christ call us to be? Cooped up in the Upper Room sharing only with one another? Or out in the world, witnessing, caring, loving, giving, transforming the world and all whom we encounter in it?

You and I may not be called upon to carry the Good News on foot to a foreign continent. But ask yourself, I invite you. Would a stranger, a non- believer who has not seen, be able to come to believe through the faith, the love, the generosity, the witness, the commitment and the ministry that she would see in your life? Let us each  resolve, on this Second Sunday of Easter of the year 2006, to begin living our lives that it may be so.

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