Saturday, April 14, 2012

"Doubting" Thomas


“Doubting” Thomas
Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
April 15, 2012; 2 Easter, Year B
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(John 20:19-31) 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." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So 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."

A 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." Then 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."  Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those  who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. 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.
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NOTE:  I’m repeating this sermon that I originally preached 5 years ago.  I like it, and I couldn’t think of anything better to say today. -- Lowell

You've heard me say before that it is unfair to speak of "Doubting Thomas."  For me, he is "Grieving Thomas." 

Go back one week -- to Easter Day.  Just two days before Thomas had seen the brutal slow execution of his beloved friend and mentor Jesus.  The scenes are vivid in his brain -- the brutal nails through his hands; the spear thrust into his side.  The sense of grief is profound and overwhelming.

Thomas wasn't there when the other disciples experienced the appearance of Jesus risen and triumphant on Easter Day.  They came to him with unbridled excitement, telling him "We have seen the Lord."  But Thomas had not shared their experience.  He knew what he had seen, and the happy words of the others sounded shallow next to the real physicality of the death of Jesus that he had witnessed.  Unless he could see something of equal reality and power, his grief could not be allayed.  How could someone else's happy words erase the horror he had lived through?  He is Grieving Thomas; Hurting Thomas; Haunted Thomas.

Now, give credit to the other disciples.  They did not say to Thomas, you just don't believe enough.  They did not exclude him from their fellowship, alienate, screen, avoid, or ostracize him even though he did not share the faith that now energized them.  He was part of the fellowship; he remained in the fellowship. 

And good for Thomas.  He stayed with them, even though he was different.  Even though he didn't experience life as the others did any more, he received enough acceptance from them to stay.  Although he was probably uncomfortable, he stayed with his friends.  They made him welcome enough that one week later, the next Sunday, he was still there, and Jesus honored Thomas with a special resurrection appearance.  That day for him, everything changed.

If you want to, you might call him Grieving Thomas, because on that day when he had a vision of Jesus, it healed his grief.  None of the facts had changed.  Jesus had still been crucified; the wounds were still there.  But all the meaning had changed.  Jesus' resurrection transcended the pain, evil, and death that Thomas had witnessed, and now everything was gloriously healed.  Thomas grieved no more.

Or if you want to, call him Truthful Thomas, he was a person who had the honesty and courage to claim his own reality, to speak his true emotions -- even if they were contrary to the prevailing opinion.  Jesus honors his honesty.  Out of Thomas' willingness to face his own dark struggle, he experiences Christ's presence so profoundly that he becomes the first person to utter words of worship: "My Lord and my God."  Thomas sees more deeply into the reality of the significance of Jesus than anyone else has thus far.  His courageous honesty opened him to new and deeper truth.

But note this.  It is the experience of Jesus as loving and compassionate which faces his doubt and gives him peace.  That's important to remember.  The experience of God as loving and compassionate produces peace.  Upon that foundation, one can risk faith.  You can trust when what you trust is compassionate love.

For centuries the Church has called him Doubting Thomas.  Let's talk about that.  I want to talk about doubt.  Doubt gets a bad name.  I've had people say to me that they thought about coming to our church because they see all the good things that we are involved in, but they hesitate because they are not sure that they believe enough.  I've heard it over and over:  "I'm not sure what I believe," they will say.   I will answer, "Wonderful!  You can belong before you believe."  Wasn't that the gift the disciples gave to Thomas?  He belonged even when he didn't believe.  In fact, if you were brought up in the church as I was, most of us belonged before we believed.  That is part of the power of the meaning of infant baptism.

Doubt is an essential component of faith.  The opposite of faith is not doubt.  The opposite of faith is certainty.  There is always an element doubt and trust in healthy faith.  To be a person of faith is to look around the world and to say, "Despite the presence of evil and tragedy and death, I trust in something good."  It is the choice to go on living hopefully.  We say that God is good; that God created all that is and said "It is good."  Despite all, life is good.  So, in faith, we choose to trust.  We choose to act out of compassion and love rather than defensiveness and fear.

But you always know, in the back of your mind, you could be wrong about that.  After all, life is hard, and people can be cruel.  Human beings are fragile and can be broken.  I might be one of those who could be broken.  But, despite that, I'm going to trust, and go on.

The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.  Certainty erases openness and kills the pilgrimage of growth.  I had a college roommate Howard who put a bumper sticker on our refrigerator: "The Bible said it.  I believe it.  That's that."  There was a lot that Howard refused to think about.  Faith is not the same thing as acquired gullibility.  People can and will believe the strangest of things, and bend or ignore the evidence to the contrary.  Rigid certainty will cut off the pilgrimage toward truth.  Certainty obliterates openness, and openness is necessary for spiritual growth and faith.

I am a natural doubter.  I know some people who are natural believers.  They don't struggle because they know intuitively.  They are typically humble, gentle, and they remain very open.  That's different from squashing doubt with certainty.  But faith does not come easy for me.  Yet after a lifetime of experiences like Thomas' -- experiences of love and compassion which brings peace -- I no longer actively struggle to have a deep faith and trust.  It's just there.  Maybe that's part of growing old.

But I have doubt.  There are days when I feel challenged by the question, "What if it's all wrong?"  What if Jesus was simply a nice Jewish religious enthusiast, who made a profound impact on others by his powerful love, his compelling teaching, and a personal impression that brought congruity to their lives?  But his vision was too radical for the religious and political authorities, and they killed him.  End of story.  What if the resurrection was nothing more than the active imagination of his followers who insisted that they would continue to live out of his Spirit?  What if that's all there is?  I ask myself that sometimes.

If that were so, I would still follow Jesus as "my Lord and my God" because it is the best story going.  I will give my life to that story, because it carries more meaning and value than anything else I have encountered.

The Jesus I follow is the incarnation in human life of divine love and compassion.  I have some friends who follow a Jesus who is very different from that.  They look forward to the day when Jesus will return and judge and destroy the earth.  He will condemn everyone who hasn't declared allegiance to his name.

What if they are right?  What if that's how God really is?  Ready to destroy all who don't believe "right"?  Then count me part of the revolution.  That kind of god doesn't deserve my worship and allegiance.  I am not going to worship a god who isn't at least as good as I am.  Their god is a very bad god.  Bad religion happens when people worship gods who are projections of their own darkness.  True Christianity proclaims that Jesus is light from light.  I'm holding out for that good God.

And what happens when we die?  I confess I have almost no interest in that question.  For me, Christianity is about life here and now.  Jesus said "I came that you might have life and have it abundantly... so that my joy may be in your and your joy may be complete."  My practice of faith is about living life abundantly, authentically, here and now.  But what about after we die? 

The God that I have experienced is a God of such love and compassion that I trust God eternally.  Whatever God wants after this life is fine with me.  After all, there is no way for me to know anything concrete about that.  Oh, there are some hints.  And those hints are pretty encouraging.  But if after we die there is nothing, I'm fine with that.  I've been close enough to nothing in contemplative prayer to be at peace with returning silently to the all.

So, that's some of what I believe.  I am your priest.  I lead our prayers, teach, consecrate, bless.  On a personal level I pray, study, and try to live a life of consecration and blessing.  But I doubt.  I have doubts.  Not every day.  But some days.  Some days more than others.  I don't stuff those doubts.  I allow them to be there.  From time to time they have led me into great discovery.

Thomas shows us what is important.  It is important to be honest and courageous.  It is faithful to confront and accept your doubts and to invite the risen Lord to bring you whatever you need to grow.  Jesus honors our struggles and doubts.  Jesus will come to us, and what Jesus will bring is what Jesus is -- love and compassion.  Perfect love casts out fear.  That is the kind of love that breathes peace upon us.  I have seen that kind of peace present even in the face of great tragedy and evil.  It is the kind of peace that changes the meaning of things like crucifixion and things like death.  Thomas knows.  There is enough love and compassion to bring peace even to our deepest grief and doubt.  Our best contribution to that quest is our honesty and our courageous, open willingness to stay in the tension.  God will do the rest.
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The Mission of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church is to
explore and celebrate God’s infinite grace acceptance and love.
Visit us at 224 N. East Avenue, Fayetteville, AR 72701
P. O. Box 1190, Fay. 72702 / 479-582-9335 / www.stpaulsfay.org

Being Wholehearted


Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
April 8, 2012; Easter Sunday, Year B
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(John 20:1-18)Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, `I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
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Two of the main characters in John’s version of the Easter story are Mary Magdalene and Peter.  They come to the tomb on Sunday morning.  And each of them comes with baggage, with history.

It was said of Mary Magdalene that Jesus exorcised seven demons from her.  She must have done some outrageous things that left an unforgettable impression.  It is not said what other people might have said about her, but I’ll bet people shamed her.  History has created all kinds of fantasies around her, most of them shameful.  In some circles her name is a synonym for a “fallen woman.”

Peter was always falling.  When he looked like he was about to succeed, walking on water toward Jesus, he suddenly lost his nerve, and Jesus had to pull him out, sputtering and red faced.  When Peter thought he was protecting Jesus from threat, Jesus had to scold him, “Get behind me Satan.  You are on the wrong side.”  That had to smart.  And just a couple of nights ago, Peter boasted that he would lay down his life for Jesus.  Then that same night, in the moment of crisis, Peter betrayed his friend, denying Jesus publicly three times.  What a failure Peter knew himself to be.

These are two people who carry enough baggage that it would be easy for them to withdraw in shame, fearful that if you knew all about them, you wouldn’t think them worthy.  Mary:  “I’m not stable enough.  I’ve done stuff.  I’m not sane.”  Peter:  “I always screw up.  I failed again, when it counted most.”

Yet here they are at the tomb.  The fallen woman and the coward. How did they do that?  How did they have the power to show up?  I think it’s because of something they learned from Jesus.  I believe that they learned from Jesus that they are worthy of love and belonging, no matter what.  I believe Jesus wants to teach each of us, “You are worthy of love; you are worthy of belonging.  No matter what.”


Brené Brown is a researcher at the University of Houston.  She’s been studying what she calls “worthiness.”  How is it that some people feel that they are worthy of love and belonging, despite their failures and weaknesses?  She studied the qualities of people who think they are worthy.  She calls them “wholehearted people.”  And here’s what she discovered.

Wholehearted people have a certain sense of courage.  It is the courage to be imperfect.  They can look at their imperfections and not have to turn away or to numb themselves.  It took some courage in Peter to be willing to face an empty tomb or even a resurrected Christ when the last thing he did was to betray his friend.  Jesus must have made him know that he was safe, accepted, especially when he failed.

Brené Brown says wholehearted people have enough compassion to be kind to themselves first, which allows them to be kind to others.  Mary Magdalene had to forgive and accept who she had been in the past in order to become who she would be in the future.  Jesus let her accept her past with dignity.

People who have the courage and compassion to accept themselves are able to be authentic, which is the key to being connected with others.  When you let go of who you think you should be, and simply be who you are, you can relax and be authentic.  You can be real.  We all like real people.  Authenticity creates connection, community.

Among the disciples, everybody knew about Mary and Peter.  Everybody knew their clay feet.  But they were who they were, and they belonged.  That’s the way it is in good community, the way it’s supposed to be in families and church.  In a way, it’s so normal, it’s boring.  We’re all messed up.  We’re all carrying baggage, and we’ve all felt shame.  So get over it.  And let’s take the risk of friendship together. 


Sure it feels vulnerable to let ourselves be seen, warts and all.  We avoid vulnerability.  Most of us numb ourselves to our vulnerable feelings.  You can see it in our culture.  Americans are in-debt, obese, addicted, and medicated.  I don’t want to feel this, so I’ll have a beer and watch QVC.  The problem is, that when you numb, you numb everything.  When you numb loneliness or shame or anxiety, you also numb joy, gratitude and happiness.  Then you feel more miserable – without purpose and meaning – vulnerable.  I think I’ll have another beer and buy today’s special on QVC.

Research shows that, in addition to numbing ourselves, we use four other ways to avoid vulnerability.

(1)  Certainty.  Make everything uncertain, certain.  I’m right.  You’re wrong.  That’s that.  I don’t want to live in the complexity, so I’ll just retreat to my certainties.  The Pope’s infallible or the Bible is literal fact.  I’ll just believe what my church or my political party tells me.

How do we avoid the feelings of vulnerability?  (2) We blame.  It feels good to find someone who is worse than you and blame them.  It’s also comforting to play the cynic.  Just sit back and fire shots, to stay away from the messy anxiety of working on solutions in an uncertain and ambiguous world.

Certainty.  Blaming.  And number three is, we perfect things.  We find what we think we can control, and we perfect it.  Perfectionism is most tragic when we try to perfect our children.  Children are hard-wired for struggle.  And they are imperfect.  But children are so worthy of love and belonging.  Don’t perfect them, love them.

Recounting:  We avoid our vulnerable feelings by numbing ourselves, by retreating into certainties, by blaming others, by perfecting what we think we can control, and finally – my favorite – we pretend what we do doesn’t have an effect on people.  We avoid.  As Scarlett O’Hara says, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.  …Tomorrow is another day.”  I don’t want to deal with that.  It’s not a big deal.


In order for Mary Magdalene and Peter to face the gaping mystery of the empty tomb, they had to be willing not to retreat into numbness;  …not to shut down with certainty – he’s dead, that’s that;  …not to blame – themselves, the Romans, the authorities, whoever;  …not to think they had to fix it, make it perfect;  …and not to pretend that what they might do or not do won’t have an effect on others. 

In order for Mary and Peter to face the gaping mystery of the open tomb, they had to be willing to be there as they were, vulnerable and open handed.  The fallen woman and the denier.  They risked going to the place where he was laid, even if it hurt.  They were willing to love with their whole hearts, even when there was no guarantee.  They had to practice hope and gratitude and joy, even in their moment of terror and fear.  And, they had to believe that they were worthy enough to be at the tomb of Jesus.  And they were.

We all are.  The love of God is so infinite, that God’s loving acceptance gives us the courage to be imperfect and still to believe that we are worthy.  One of our Eucharistic Prayers says, “You have made us worthy to stand before you.”  Whoever we are, we are worthy.  Worthy of love and connection.  Just like Mary and Peter.


How can we see Jesus?  Allow yourself to be who you are, in all your vulnerabilities.  Jesus will be there.  When Mary Magdalene sees the empty tomb, she dissolves into tears.  Vulnerable and real.  And Jesus comes beside her, unrecognized.  He speaks her name.  She sees him.  She is healed.  Empowered and worthy.

Later in John’s gospel, Jesus will come to Peter, the one who betrayed him three times.  Three times Jesus will ask him, “Peter do you love me.”  Three times Peter will answer, truthfully, nondefensively,  “Yes, Lord.  You know that I love you.”  Three times Jesus will charge him with his ministry, “Feed my lambs; tend my sheep.”  The three denials are turned into three affirmations.  He is healed.  Empowered and worthy.

Come here to the open tomb.  Come as you are.  Wholeheartedly.  Open your hand.  Receive the bread of life.  You are worthy.  You belong.  Drink from the cup of salvation.  You are loved.  You are empowered.  Jesus is here.  You are here.  It is enough. 

Then go from this place like empowered and wholehearted, like Mary Magdalene and Peter, to live freely and courageously.  Courageous enough to be imperfect, compassionate enough to be kind – to yourself first, and then kind to others.  Willing to be who you are.  For, you are worthy.  You belong.  You have seen the Lord.
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This sermon owes much to the Ted Talk by Dr. Brené Brown, The Power of Vulnerability

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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.
For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and its life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373 – www.stpaulsfay.org