Doubting

John 20: 19-31

Easter Sunday is rarely an appropriate time to engage in a discussion of the factuality of the resurrection. Congregations on an Easter Sunday want to hear a word of hope, they want to sing their alleluias, they want to know that Jesus still lives. Especially if this is the one Sunday a year they come to church, they want to hear a story of impossible odds, a story of grace and above all love.

But this Sunday we join the disciples, particularly Thomas, in wondering if it’s all true. Though the gospel accounts differ, in all of them Jesus appears first to some of his female followers, then to the rest of his disciples in various locations. In Matthew it’s in Galilee, in Mark on a country road, in Luke on the road to Emmaus, and in John, in a locked room. The main point for all of these encounters is that the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples and tasks them with carrying on his work because he’s back, but only for a little while. In the book of John, Jesus first appears to Mary Magdalene who then goes and tells the rest of the disciples about the empty tomb and the gardener who turned out to be Jesus. We don’t know if the disciples believe her, but the first thing Jesus does when he appears to them, after he calms them down with a word of peace, is to show them his wounds, to show them that he’s really the same guy. At the very least, their disbelief is a possibility that Jesus has already considered and he’s prepared to offer evidence. Proof that the writer of John then, extends to us with his gospel as his testimony.

The “proof” offered in the gospel of John does not meet our standards. John’s testimony would not hold in a court of law or even a news article. An account of Jesus apparating through a locked door doesn’t prove anything to us 2000 years later—did you see it? I sure didn’t. We’d need video footage and scientific experiments to show the plausibility of a divine person traveling through solid material. We might need Jesus to stand before us and demonstrate what he can do. We’d need much more than just seeing his hands or placing our own in his side. We would need even more proof than poor old doubting Thomas.

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel tells the story of a young man named Pi, who ends up on a life boat with various wild animals when a ship with his family and their zoo animals sinks. It’s a tale of remarkable survival as he keeps himself alive for 277 days with a hungry, adult Bengal tiger on board. It’s a beautiful story of faith and strength and careful managing of the tiger. In the end, when Pi has found safety and a maritime official, Mr. Okamoto is questioning him in an investigation of the ship’s sinking, a slightly different story is revealed than the one he has told through the entire book. The animals turn out to bear a striking resemblance to other people who had been on the ship and the possibility of a much darker story of human desperation while at sea emerges. With the two accounts, Mr. Okamoto doesn’t know what to do, but Pi points out that he can’t prove either story, but will just have to take Pi’s word for it. So he then asks Mr. Okamoto: “So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can’t prove the question either way, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story, the story with the animals or the story without animals?” Mr. Okamoto agrees that it is “The story with the animals.” Pi’s response is: “Thank you. And so it goes with God.”

We cannot prove the resurrection one way or the other. We cannot say for sure that it did not happen, that it was merely a resuscitation, or some sort of trick of hide-the-body the disciples played. We cannot say for sure that it happened. But we do know that Jesus really does continue to live and breathe in and among us. We know this because Jesus is God and God is everlasting. This is the important part. Not the mechanics of Jesus’ dead body being restored to life—because how or if God did that, isn’t something we can discover. Is it possible for God? Surely. Does that mean it happened, in any sort of factual historical sense? Not necessarily. Is it the better story, full of the truth of God’s redeeming love? Absolutely.

A few years ago, there was much talk of the “Jesus tomb,” a tomb found in Jerusalem where people named Jesus, Mary, and James had all been buried together, possibly around the time that Jesus Christ had lived and died. There was great speculation about how to prove if this was Jesus the Christ and what implications there would be and the possibility of the death of Christianity and the shattered faith of millions. There’d never be anyway to analyze the bones to determine if this was Jesus of Nazareth, not resurrected, but buried after all. But what if they could prove, beyond a doubt that it was? Christian doctrine would have to change, but would it die? Would we have nothing left to believe in? Could Jesus still be the Messiah? Could Jesus still be God? These are not easy questions, but the truths of Christianity are much more valuable than the provable facts. If it’s a beautiful story of love and redemption, does it have to have happened that way?

The reason this debate is not appropriate for Easter Sunday, is because whether or not the physical resurrection happened, isn’t the point. Believing or not is a matter of faith, not history or science, or fact. Some Christians find it impossible to believe without the resurrection. Some don’t find it necessary at all.

We certainly have doubts now and they range all the way from doubting the existence of God to doubting the goodness of God to doubting our world to doubting ourselves. After his death, the disciples continued to have a very powerful, physical experience of Jesus. And even with all of this physical presence, they still have doubts.

Jesus shows them his hands and his side so that they can see it’s him with their own eyes. He breathes on them, giving them the Holy Spirit, in a way they can feel. When Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into them, it’s very much like when God the Creator first breathed life into Adam. That account of human creation was also very physical, very tactile, very personal. God formed a human being with God’s own hands out of the dirt of the earth and breathed divine breathe into him so that he might have life. So too, Jesus instructs his disciples with touch and breathe. Jesus breathes on the disciples. Asking them to carrying on—authority to forgive sins, etc—to carry out his ministry, with the guidance and strength of the Holy Spirit.

If we haven’t gotten the message, Jesus continues to be God incarnate—God in a flesh and blood body. Not a ghost, not a zombie, but the real thing. Just how this is possible is one of the mysteries of faith. Because God continues to care about human beings—all of us, our souls and our bodies, because God took great care in forming us in the first place, and continues to take great care with us.

Peace be with you.

The Last Supper

Luke 22:14-20, 39-46

During the last supper, Jesus uses familiar ingredients to tell the story of what he is about to do. He gives his disciples a tangible way to remember and celebrate him, and a way of bonding them and us together. He uses bread and wine, elements that are already rich in Biblical imagery of wheat and harvest, vines and branches. Since this is also the Passover meal, the bread is unleavened, a sign of the hurry the early Hebrew people were in and the wine, Jesus’ blood, is also the blood of the lamb, a symbol of life and covenant.

For those observing the first Passover in Egypt, death was coming that night. Salvation from that death was immediate, not a promise for a distant future. The Hebrew people had to eat their meal of lamb and bread and bitter herb, prepared in a particular way, that very evening, in order to save their lives, and show their obedience to God. God was done with the various amusing plagues on the Egyptians, this time God meant business.

Jesus’ meal is also close to death—not that very night but soon. His meal comes on the eve of trial. After he shares the bread and the cup, he goes out to the garden to pray, to ask God that the cup of suffering might be removed from him if it would be God’s will.

At the same time of the feast, the high priests are conspiring against Jesus. Judas has already agreed to sell insider information to the high priests who will have Jesus arrested. And Jesus reveals to the disciples that one of them will betray them. As they ask, “is it I, Lord?” Jesus and Judas both know who it will be. And yet, Jesus doesn’t turn Judas away from the table. Instead, he gives him a morsel of forgiveness and a sip of salvation. Jesus’ table is open to everyone, to friends and to enemies alike.

The first group of disciples were far from perfect. They denied Jesus, they fell asleep while he was praying, they brandished the sword instead of resisting passively. Do this in remembrance of me, he says to Judas who will betray him and to Peter who will deny him and pretend to forget.

But when they share the loaf and the wine, they will have the chance to remember Jesus again. Even though this memory is dangerous. Because it is the memory of a man who resisted empire and local religious authorities. It is the memory of a man who did not resist arrest, who did not defend his innocence either physically or verbally, who resisted the entire unjust system that would crucify him on a cross.

Through the celebration of Communion, he invited them to remember all that they saw, and did, and learned when he walked and breathed among them. The fruits of the harvest and of the vine were there to remind them that it had all really happened and to remind them of their ongoing purpose, work, and commitment to make things right in the world—to never stop telling the story of Jesus.

To all of his disciples throughout the centuries, Jesus says: “Remember. I am with you. Even when you can’t see me, even when it seems like I’m truly gone, when you taste bread and drink wine, which you will do every day of your lives, remember me. My flesh, my blood, they live within your flesh and blood. You consume my body, so that you may be my body for the whole world.”

We celebrate our own community of disciples in the shared loaf, the shared body of Christ and in the common cup and common life of service together. Christ is spiritually present in the bread and juice. Christ is physically with us in the hands that give and receive.

We remember the Christ who continues to live and breathe among us. We remember that he was arrested and tried, tortured and killed. And he did this all out of love so that we might live. Amen.