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"Suspicious Doubters"
John 20:19-31
A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Douglas M. Donley
It took the disciples a while to get it. Some people you just need to hit over the head a few times for them to see the truth. Some people are so skeptical that they are blinded to the truth that they even want to hear. A lot of us are like that. We don't want to hear the truth for the fear that it might in fact set us free, because free is not what we want to be. We want to be bound up so we can predict the future. We don't want to be free to face an uncertain future. That's too scary. But that's also what Easter is about.
I have spent a number years preaching against the disciples' fear and safety needs. I have preached about the fact that they simply did not want to see the resurrection. They were content to hide out together in the upper room where it's safe. I have to admit, though, if I were honest, that that is where I like to hide, too. I don't want to sell all I have and give to the poor and then follow you. I want to follow you, but don't make me sell all I have. I don't want to follow you to the cross. I want to be thought of well by both the poor and the Pharisees of this world. I want to speak the truth to power, maybe turn a table or two over, but I'm not sure I really want to endure 39 lashes.
Yes, at times, I like to think I am like Mary Magdalene going to the cross and witnessing the resurrection. But the reality is that I'm a whole lot more like doubting Thomas, utilizing my hermeneutic of suspicion. I'm more like sleeping, denying, arrogant Peter with my own fickle attempts at living a faithful life.
So, I resonate with the disciples at the resurrection, hiding out and wondering what to do.
But if I resonate with their ability to stay put, then I probably ought to resonate with their ability to get over it and get on with their lives and their ministries.
Still, I am like Thomas from time to time, wondering if I am doing or believing the right thing. Wondering if I am being duped by one belief system or another. Wondering if I am doing what I’m supposed to do or whether I am being an accomplice or an enabler for the other side.
I guess this is why the powers that be cast me in the role of Thomas in “The Gospel according to Kermit” a few months ago. I don’t doubt that Jesus lived, died and rose again, but I do doubt whether the church as it is presently configured is the best institution to carry on the message, so willing are we to be conformed to this world. I don’t doubt that God wants us to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly, but I do doubt that I’m always able to live up to that ideal.
Theologian Paul Tillich said that faith begins with doubt. That gives me some comfort.
You know, we all have doubts. But that is one of the things that draws me to Sacred Harp music. It proclaims an assuredness, often before I am ready to admit it. It presents a faith not many of us have, but to which many of us aspire. And some even go so far as to say that you really haven’t experienced Sacred Harp music until you go down south and find people who live and breathe it. And it’s not just the music and the tunes, it’s also the theology—that sense of surety—the faith that seems to surpass doubt.
There’s a
relatively recent hymn that I have found comforting and challenging. Think of this being sung to the tune
The doubts of my faith rise from unanswered deep,
The life that I offer is still incomplete.
I find myself seeking a mercy yet
Of God who waits silent in shadows unmet.
God’s call to abandonment rings in my ears,
To risk more, to give more in spite of my fears.
The call stays unfinished deep in my heart
Yet God gently comforts and will not depart.
The day spring of morning as promised appears
To shine through the darkness of my deepest fears.
Through death’s shadow streaming its pain to release,
It shines onto guide my life’s journey in peace.
The deep fears that chill me the loving that warms,
Are gathered and held in God’s strong gentle arms.
When darkness surrounds me and sadness I face,
The light shatters night in the Dayspring of grace.
(Larry Reimer in Songs of Hope and Peace, Pilgrim Press, 1988)
I want you to know that it is okay to doubt. In fact, I would go so far as to say it’s better to doubt than it is to simply believe without question. I want you to know that I am not threatened by your lingering doubts and I hope you are not threatened by mine. It is the stuff of the beginning of a deep faith. It’s okay not to have all of the answers. It’s okay to question and struggle with God. What’s not okay is to simply take everything at face value and not let it challenge you and push you deeper.
Thomas did not have the luck of the other disciples. He did not see the risen Jesus when the others did. His encounter happened a whole week later. It happened alone, I like to think. Thomas is such an authentic figure. He was a skeptic, like us. He needed proof, like us. He gave voice to what we really think some of the time when we are faced with the miraculous. "I need to see it in order to believe it." In these times of war, it’s hard to believe that God’s way is of peace. Like Thomas, we find ourselves saying, “We need to see it in order to believe it.”
But Thomas went even farther than that. He said, “I need to touch the wounds in his hands and in his side.” That was the point where Jesus’ human pain was the greatest. Thomas needed to touch the pain of God in order to believe in the resurrection of God, in order to believe in his own resurrection—in order to have his hope restored. In Jewish understanding, there is a power which is given to touch. A certain type of intimate knowledge is attained. That is why it is so important for us to touch one another during our worship services.
Jesus appeared to Thomas and for the third time in today's scripture reading, he said "Peace be with you." Jesus then invited Thomas to touch his wounds--to touch the pain--to know intimately that God knows the fullness of our lives and struggles. Because of his fear and in spite of his skepticism, Thomas sought out the most painful area. Then comes the most powerful christological affirmation in the entire Gospel: "My Lord and my God." This is the traditional Jewish terminology for God. Until now, it was never applied to Jesus. John has it be the last words a disciple has to say about Jesus. Thomas sought out the pain: That place that scared all of them so much. And he was a new creation because of it.
I believe that God was the first to cry when bombs dropped on Iraq; Just like God was the first to cry when Saddam gassed the Kurds; Just like God is the first to cry whenever a person is abused or denied the justice, mercy and compassion God intends for all if creation. Thomas realized this when he sought out the intersection of the pain of humanity and the pain of God. And Thomas would not have figured it out if not for his doubt.
The scripture says that after Jesus appeared to the disciples and the disciples saw the pain of humanity taken on by the pain of God, they received a new commissioning.
That's the Holy Spirit at work. And it works in us, too, if we pay attention to it.
I imagine that the disciples sang a lot during those faltering days of the early church. I bet as they tried to remember the stories of Jesus, they put them into songs, not only so they could remember them, but also so they could garner a hope and a faith beyond themselves.
When I gather with Sacred Harp singers,
I’m transported to another place. I
remember the cloud of witnesses that have sung these songs across the
centuries, across generational and political and cultural barriers. I remember the faces I have joined in singing
this music, from The Baptist Peace Fellowship Summer conferences, to Union
Seminary to my first church in
So whether I’m singing:
“O could we make our doubts remove
Those gloomy doubts arise
And see the
With un-beclouded eyes.”
Or
“Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount—o fix me on it—
Mount of God’s unchanging love.”
I find my spirit renewed and a bit more power to face the day. It’s because I don’t do this alone. I do it surrounded by people I love and who sustain me. About all of that I have no doubt.
So when I doubt and suspicions arise, I find that being in community, being in church, being accepted, doubts and all, gives me the strength I need to carry on. That’s the magic of church. That’s the magic of Sacred Harp. That’s the magic of the Spirit living and breathing through us.
For I believe that God rejoices when we come together, our suspicious doubting selves, and proclaim a vision of a greater tomorrow. That’s what we do when we sing, when we witness, when we support and challenge each other. We proclaim and live resurrection. That’s the real transforming work of the church. And it makes us want to sing again and again.