April 30, 2000

My Lord and My God

The Rev. Daniel Rondeau


Acts 3:12a, 13-15, 17-26 | Psalm 118:19-24 | 1 John 5:1-6 | John 20:19-31


The doors and windows were shuttered and locked, though no one really thought it would deter the soldiers, not really. The men and women inside the locked room knew they were being hunted. After all, their leader had been snatched from them in the middle of the night. They were powerless to defend him. Betrayed by one of their own, the soldiers knew where to look. The locked room was little comfort, because the traitor knew of this place as well; had he sold them out, too?

Every sound in the street silenced the group inside. Every noise could be the first sound of danger. They really had no plan if the room were invaded. There would be no escape, and certainly they were no match for the Roman soldiers. Every noise could be the last one they would hear before their capture, their torture, and their death. There was no joy in that room. There was no Peace in that room. They were simply waiting-to-die.

Into this fear, into the great need of the disciples, Jesus appears. "Peace be with you," were his first words to this terrified and needy group. Peace be with you. The situation of danger did not change. The doors remained locked. Every noise could still be the signal that their own end had begun. But now it was different. They were different. Peace be with you, he had said. And there was Peace. Just like there was light, and dark, sun and moon, and a separation of waters above and below, and plants and animals, and humans, male and female now by his command, there was Peace (though nothing outside of them had changed).

In his presence there was Peace. From this moment on there would ever be Peace that passes understanding in the presence of the Risen Lord. And the next thing he did was to show them the marks of his torture and death. He gave them something they could understand to begin their journey into the knowledge of the power of God over all things, even death. He showed them his wounds, now powerless to do any damage, now defeated in their ability to hurt and kill.

In that moment, in that breath of God breathed into them, they moved from fear into joy. They moved from waiting to die into abundant life. The doors were still locked. The threat of betrayal, arrest, and execution was still there. The Roman soldiers still patrolled the streets. The Jewish leaders still had the power to root out and destroy this little band of Jesus followers. But, they were different. Their joy would never be overcome, not now, not ever.

But they were not all present. Thomas, for reasons we will never know, was not in the room. He did not hear the words of Peace. He did not touch the wounds that had killed Jesus. He did not touch the Risen Lord. He had not moved from fear to joy, from waiting to die to abundant life. Despite the testimony of his own friends, he would not, could not believe until he had his own proof. Until he heard the words and touched the wounds, he could not or would not believe that Lord was alive. Like the others he doubted that Jesus or anyone could survive crucifixion. (In fact, his own eyes may have confirmed that Jesus was as dead as any corpse he had ever seen). He had no words, no experience to suggest that Jesus could be raised from the dead. Sure, they had seen Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, but who would speak the word to bring Jesus himself back from the dead. Despite Jesus' own words, Thomas doubted that he could be alive as the others were saying.

Once again, as if to establish the pattern forever, Jesus comes into a room filled with confusion, fear, doubt, and who knows what else. But in the midst of their need, their frailty, and their doubts—right where he is needed the most—Jesus appears. Again his greeting both names and creates the Peace that goes along with abundant life. That Peace that comes with the presence of the Risen Lord. And once again, he wishes to give a sign that he is indeed alive. Thomas makes his journey from fear to joy, from waiting-to-die to abundant life. And he confesses: "My Lord and my God!"

In the telling of this story we learn some important truths this Second Sunday of Easter.

First, we learn that Jesus does not avoid places of hurt and fear and gloom. We learn that it is precisely in these fearful and terrible places that he appears. And when he is present, there is Peace. What is outside may not change, but what is inside, what is of immense value to the Father, changes as it is blessed with Peace.

Then we learn that Jesus will confirm his presence. He will make himself known. We will be able to comprehend this revelation, we will be able to embrace this presence and the Peace that passes all understanding.

And as we accept this gift of God we move from fear to joy, from waiting-to-die to abundant life.

From Thomas and the group we can also learn that God values, blesses, and accepts our doubts, our questions, our seeking. We need not "have it all together" in order to receive God's gift. Our questions, all our questions, even our whiny questions are acceptable to the Lord. All our doubts, every one of them (can they be any bigger than Thomas' doubts?) are acceptable to the Lord.

And again, from Thomas, we discover that it is useful to do our most vocal doubting inside a community of friends. Ask the questions, raise the doubts, inside the loving boundaries of a community of friends. Don't try to carry the doubt alone. Don't ask the questions and pose the demands outside a community of friends.

The flip side of this, of course, is that if you are a part of the community of friends you must receive the doubts and questions with the same reverence and support given them by God. Just as Thomas was not cast out of the community of disciples, so are we to include those who doubt and question and seek. Together we must support them. Inside our fellowship, they are allowed to ask their best questions and raise their most terrifying doubts.

We learn from today's story that we must be ready. When the doubt, when the fear, when the questions lock us in, imprison us, then and there is where Jesus will appear again. In the moment of our greatest need, in the moment of our most terrifying fear, in the darkest moment of our lives Jesus comes, speaks the word of Peace, and helps us move from fear to joy, death to life. We must be ready.

We learn from Thomas that when this truth becomes apparent, when we are saved from fear and death we must voice what our heart discovers: there is no other God like ours. There is no other response than, "My lord and my God!.

Finally, in today's Gospel we hear Jesus' own blessing of us. Can you bear to hear him call your name? Can you bear to hear him bless you? Can you believe it, Jesus blessed you before you were even born: Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe [that I live]." To feel the impact of that blessing try this simple exercise. Repeat the words of Jesus inserting the name of Thomas first, and then your own name: "Thomas, have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed is Daniel who has not seen me and yet has come to believe." Blessed is Daniel. From before his birth, Thomas, I tell you blessed is Daniel who has come to believe without seeing. Insert your own name in the dialogue of Jesus, and understand the blessing of Jesus intended for you and spoken long centuries ago.

We can be sure that it is acceptable in God's eyes to doubt. We can be sure that in our moments of greatest need, Jesus will appear. In his presence and in his command, Peace is given. We move from death to life. We move from "I will not believe" to "My Lord and my God!"

We are well and truly blessed. Alleluia.

The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
30 April 2000