"Unlocking the Doors"
March 30, 2008: Second Sunday of Easter, Year A
The Rev. Caroline K. Murphy, interim senior minister
United Church on the Green, UCC: New Haven, CT
www.UnitedChurchontheGreen.org

Scripture:

"May God take these words and make from them a holy word for us today."

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 religious leaders, 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.

"Friends, God is still speaking to the world. May our hearts be open to listen and respond. Amen."

Sermon

What a wonderful Sunday! The Sunday after Easter is normally considered to be something of a "low" Sunday, but that can hardly be said of this morning, what with the dedication of a beautiful child and the lifting up the volunteer work through which so many of you live out your faith. These simple acts celebrate the hope and promise of Eastertide in ways more profound than the words of any sermon can do. So I will keep my reflections short this week. (Plus, I've given to understand that there may be some here who are chomping at the bit to go cheer on the women Huskies!)

Still, I can't let this day pass without just a few words about my friend Thomas, who shows up like clockwork every year on this Second Sunday of Easter. John's gospel simply calls him Thomas the Twin, but somewhere early on, he got stuck with being called "Doubting Thomas" and it's an epithet he's never quite managed to shake. In my book, that's reason enough to feel some sympathy for the guy; after all, most of us get the chance to leave behind whatever unfortunate nicknames we may have picked up in the rough-and-tumble world of our childhood playgrounds. And that nickname is not the only playground aspect of his story. Do you know how one child can sometimes get blamed for something a whole group of kids has done? It's a little bit like that with Thomas. All four gospel accounts tell us of considerable doubt and fear on the part of many, if not all, of Jesus' followers; but Thomas seems to get blamed for it all, and that just doesn't seem fair. This, too, makes me want to stick up for him.

On a deeper level, I am grateful to Thomas for the doubt that he embodies — and I am grateful that the Bible includes such a rich story about doubt. Many of you have heard me talk enough about my own rather cautious journey into faith to know that I have a healthy respect for honest expressions of doubt. And Thomas is nothing if not honest. I like Thomas for his directness of manner, his openness about the nature of his doubts, his refusal simply to go along with what everyone else says until he has worked things through for himself. He has an independence of mind, and a willingness to question the majority opinion, that I admire. Far too much damage has been done in our world by people who are utterly convinced that they know the truth and are unwilling to listen to anyone who might cast doubts on their views. Would that more political leaders had Thomas's willingness to question things, to probe them and not simply rely on others to tell them what they want to hear! Would that more citizens of our democracy made the effort to inform themselves thoroughly rather than to relying on hearsay or the latest blog! Would that more of us human beings in general might learn to listen deeply to others, with the idea that we might actually have something to learn from those with whom we disagree!

So I like this guy Thomas, the doubting Twin. And I like the fact that we hear this story about him and the other disciples just at a point when the memory of last Sunday's colored Easter eggs and riotous display of flowers and flourishes of brass may be starting to fade a bit. I like the way this story asks us (as it does the disciples) what we are going to do now, on the other side of crucifixion and resurrection.

As you may have noticed, the story comes in two parts. The first scene takes place on Easter evening. At the end of a long day that started with the astonishing encounter between Jesus and Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb, the disciples are huddled together in a house, with the doors locked, captive to their fears. It is surely not to Thomas's discredit that he is missing that evening; he seems to be the only one of the disciples who has ventured past the safety of those locked doors. That first night, Jesus appears to them — to all of them except for Thomas, that is — and begins releasing them from their fears by speaking words of peace and by breathing the Holy Spirit on them.

Most of us know what it is like to feel fearful — how our muscles become tense, our shoulders shoot up, our breathing becomes shallow and our hands clench. I suspect, or at least I hope, that we all know what it is to feel at peace as well — how our muscles and shoulders relax, how our breathing becomes deeper and steadier. Fear makes us want to shut the doors and lock them tight — the doors to the room we're in, the doors to our bodies, the doors to our souls. Fear makes us want to retreat inward and hide where we think we may be safe. Peace, on the other hand, helps us open the doors, let the air in, expand our views, and connect with others. At a basic physiological level it's impossible to be fearful and peaceful at the same time. So when Jesus finds the disciples cowering behind locked doors, gripped by fear, he offers them the one gift that will melt their fears away, the gift of peace. "Peace be with you," he says to them that Easter evening — not once but twice. "Peace be with you." And he offers them that peace not through words alone but through the very breath of the Holy Spirit

A week later, in Scene Two of this story, Jesus comes back — mostly, it would seem, for the sake of Thomas the Doubting Twin. But the others need that return visit from Jesus as well. For a full week later the disciples are still huddled in the very same room, still hiding behind doors that are firmly shut. The power of fear still holds sway among them. They still need to see the risen Christ again and to hear him speak those words to them once again: "Peace be with you."

The focus does then shift to Thomas and to Jesus' invitation to him to place his finger on the wounds, to stretch out his hand and put it in his side, to absorb through his own sense of touch the truth that this really is he. But the story is not simply about "believing" in the sense that we ordinarily use the word. It is about the whole interplay of faith and doubt and fear. The story invites us to see doubt not so much as an enemy of faith but rather as something like a shadow cast by faith, a shadow that through its very existence points to faith's reality. The enemy of faith is not doubt but rather fear — the kind of fear that leads us to shut ourselves behind locked doors, closing out the world and shutting ourselves off from the possibility of engaging life.¹

All of which brings me back to what we are doing in worship this morning, besides listening to or speaking the words of a sermon. We are blessing a tiny child, opening the doors and inviting her to explore faith as widely and deeply as possible, praying for her to live a full and abundant life. And we are celebrating volunteer efforts which challenge the cynical notion born of doubt and fear that nothing can really be done to change the world we live in. Through our collective volunteer work, we are seeking to unlock the doors of possibility and hope for those who are barred from full participation in society by a lack of literacy, or for young people at risk, or for their parents, or for those who are incarcerated. These are some of the many ways in which we live into the resurrection — ways in which we seek to move beyond the powers of doubt and fear into life abundant.

Can you feel Christ's presence here with us today? For that presence is here. Christ is greeting us with words of peace this very day, and breathing on us with the power of the Holy Spirit. May it be so! Amen.