Sermon for Doubting Thomas – John 20:19-31

This story of doubting Thomas has to be one of the best known stories of scripture. It ought to be – we read it every year on the week after Easter. Even non-Christians know it. It seems straightforward enough. Faith and skepticism. Jesus is resurrected, he visits the disciples, they tell Thomas, but he’s skeptical. He needs proof. Evidently Thomas isn’t a very faithful disciple. OR, maybe the rest of the disciples are just really bad evangelists. What do you think? There’s plenty of blame for everyone. But, we think the lesson is obvious here. Don’t be like Thomas. Have you heard that sermon? I have. But what if that’s not what this story is about?

It’s not like Jesus scolds or ridicules Thomas. Quite the opposite – Thomas is the ENTIRE reason why Jesus comes back. Just for him, not the others. That’s quite an honor! Jesus didn’t have to. He could have just left it up to the disciples to convince Thomas, but no. Jesus takes over, and even gives Thomas exactly what he asked for, gaping wounds and all. Yes, it’s gory, like medical students peeking inside cadavers. How’s that for an awkward thought! It’s almost like the anti-transfiguration, isn’t it? No mountaintops or dazzling white robes. Just Jesus’ broken and violated human body right here, front and center. Yeah, Jesus does tell Thomas “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have seen and yet have come to believe.” But that’s not actually scolding. Our feelings of guilt always drive us to that impulse. But Jesus is really just making a statement of fact. Nothing more. Nothing less.

So, why would Jesus do all this just for Thomas? Well, we could spin this story in a totally different direction. We could talk about how tolerant and forgiving Jesus is. And he is, thank God. Jesus is the shepherd who goes after that 1 lost sheep. The woman who seeks that insignificant little lost coin. The one who saves the day when disciples fail. That’ll preach, right? I’d love to hear that sermon. But it glosses over the gross elephant in the room. Thomas doesn’t just want to see Jesus, and he doesn’t just want to see marks. He wants to dig around in Jesus’ open wounds, and that’s just morbid. What’s wrong with him?

But what if Thomas is actually the courageous one? Think about what we do with Easter. The stone rolled away, the empty tomb, a cross WITHOUT Christ. We think Good Friday is just some kind of obligation, and even while it’s happening, we’re still thinking about all our Easter plans because THAT’S the day. THAT’s the goal. THAT’s what we think the whole season is about. But that’s not where Thomas sits. He’s still sitting in Good Friday, in Jesus’ suffering and death. The resurrection isn’t enough for Thomas. He wants to know that Jesus really died. It’s almost like he’s preaching to the rest of the disciples. How can you just move past the cross like Jesus’ death is a forgotten detail? And he has a point. After all, with our creed we don’t just confess the risen Lord. We confess Jesus dead and risen. But why? Isn’t death just meaningless? Who needs a dead Jesus?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I have a seminary friend in Idaho who’s doing her hospital residency right now. It’s like chaplaincy, and it’s a requirement for candidacy. I haven’t done it yet. We talk on the phone every week just to check in. She’s on call at weird hours so she’s always tired. Wednesday of Holy Week she was called in for a pediatric trauma case, and it’s bad. She ended up spending all night with the family and it took something out of her. She went to worship on Maundy Thursday and basically cried the whole time. On Good Friday, they told her that the son was declared brain dead. She didn’t go to worship that day. It was just too much. She hit her limit. But we still talked on Saturday, and while we were talking she had to take another call. She told me that the boy’s organs had been made available for transplant, and while we were talking the doctors were going into surgery at that very moment. She said when they do this, there’s a beautiful thing that happens. They pause in the OR for a time of silence, then they read a statement from the family that tells them about who this person really was. Then they pray together for the life that these organs will give to someone else. My friend had to take the other call to give them that statement from the family, so that they could read it in the OR and proceed with surgery.

I can’t stop thinking about it. Others have been given new life this week. Almost like resurrection. But only because of one family’s suffering and loss. Only because of death. Why does it have to be like this? Why does God operate like this? Not even Jesus is immune – God’s only Son crucified and dead on the cross. We always ask but God never gives us an answer. Meanwhile, death and disaster continue to surround us. So we fill the void of God’s silence with answers. The sin and injustice of the world. Our bad choices. God’s judgment. But then we’re the ones suffering. Well-meaning Christian friends think they’re helping us by saying this is all part of God’s plan. Do you ever want to smack them? I confess my sin to you.

Maybe Thomas is the only one of us who actually recognizes what the good news really is. We need to see Jesus’ wounds because there is no resurrection withouut death. If Jesus has not died, he cannot be raised. And sometimes what we need to see more than anything else are Jesus’ wounds, because in his wounds we finally see our own. All our marks. The injustice we suffer. Our sin and brokenness. He sees it all and he testifies for our sake that it’s all real. That’s why Jesus comes among us, just to see you and me exactly as we are and still call us his beloved. Not who we pretend to be. Not the lies others tell. Not the lies we tell ourselves. Jesus sees through all of it, and he wants us to see that there’s not a single thing about us that he doesn’t willingly, gladly take upon himself, because this is what love does. We have died with Jesus on the cross, so that we will be resurrected with him, and Jesus always has the last word. He has overcome our suffering with his suffering and put our death to death.

Even still, Jesus knows we don’t understand suffering or death. He knows we don’t understand why there is no justice, let alone how we perpetuate that. But he gives us faith to know that this is the God who brings life out of death. He gives us hope, and hope has real power. Hope doesn’t mean wishful thinking or anemic prayers for peace. No, Jesus said he came not to bring peace but a sword. Our hope is that piercing sword that speaks truth to power. Hope sees God making a way in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Hope tells us that we are truly Jesus’ disciples even when others say we’re not. Hope tells us that we’re undermining hatred and injustice in ways we don’t realize, even when it doesn’t look like it. Jesus tells us “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” and he’s right. Hope tells us that evem suffering and death can be a gift of God that defies the power of the world. It happened, and no one can ever take that away from you. Thank God – that’s why Jesus is so ready to come and show Thomas and everyone else (it’s not actually just for Thomas’ sake!) his broken body, because not even broken bodies can overwhelm the hope that Jesus has ordained us to bear before the world.

But it’s a strange call. We’re the ones made and called to see death when others can’t or won’t face it. We’re the ones who show our broken bodies to others as our testimony. It’s the only way anyone will ever see that nothing and no one is beyond God’s reach. And that’s what they need to know about God more than anything else. That’s truth. This ministry is the cross we bear, not by choice, but by being chosen. But it’s never, ever a lonely call – we bear it with each other as the body of Christ. It’s funny when you think about it. Christ’s body bears wounds. You can’t be Christ’s body without bearing a few choice wounds yourself. I guess we should have figured that out already. But in your wounds, others will finally see their own, and by this they will know they’re seen by God. So it goes for Jesus, so it goes for us, so it goes for everyone else. Therefore, peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you. Amen.