I recently had an “e-conversation” with a young friend who was wrestling with a freshman philosophy paper. The professor set up the terms of the paper: contrast and compare the thoughts of a particular secular philosopher vs those of a Christian theologian of the same era. By the way the question was phrased it was pretty clear that the professor leaned solidly toward the philosopher and shared the common intellectual disdain for all things labelled “Christian.” It also seemed, to me any way, equally clear that my young friend was facing her first serious experience of bona fide doubt.
I shared some thoughts with her and suggested some reading materials to, but what I forgot to say was that if, in fact, she was experiencing a full-on onslaught of doubt, she was in good company. As are all of us who have ever doubted.
As predictable as Luke’s narrative of the angels and shepherds at the midnight service on Christmas Eve, as predictable as one of three versions of the empty tomb story on Easter Day, so equally predictable is today’s story of “Doubting Thomas” just one week after Easter Day. The very same story from John’s Gospel year in, year out.
Now some would say, and over the years, I’ve doubtlessly preached this myself — on one of the rare occasions I haven’t assigned “Low Sunday” to a curate, associate, or seminarian — some would say that the main point of this story is that Jesus came in and said “Peace” to his disciples. Or that he returned not as a ghost but as flesh and blood. Or that he breathed on them and thus gave them the Holy Spirit.
But most of us know this Sunday as “Doubting Thomas Sunday” because the disciple Thomas isn’t going to believe the stories about Jesus’ rising from the dead until he sees it for himself.
Why do you suppose that just one week after the certainty of the Resurrection we hear the story of one plagued by doubt? I don’t know about you, but for a long time I assumed doubt was the opposite of faith. That if I had doubts it meant I didn’t have faith. I assumed that the worst thing I could do as a Christian was to doubt. Doubts would creep into my brain and I’d try to bat them away, but they would just come creeping back. I’d go back to concrete things. I’d think about having seen the Shroud of Turin and about all the stuff I’d read about it — the studies that concluded that the image most likely came from a sudden intense blast of light, like a negative image on photographic paper — or a body being resurrected. I’d go through all the concrete things like that which I could think of, but still the doubts persisted. Really? How?… I was envious of friends who told stories of how Jesus had actually appeared to them. Why couldn’t that happen to me?
And then I saw it. No, not Jesus but rather a poster with the image of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane — the classic one we’ve all seen with him looking up and something like a moonbeam shining on his face. It’s a fairly common, I’m sure you’ve all seen it. What grabbed my attention was not the picture, but the caption underneath it:
“Considering he had his doubts isn’t it okay for you to have yours too?”
Wow. Boing — forehead slap –! Of course! Of course Jesus had his doubts, he had to have had his doubts, being not only fully divine but also fully human. And what more appropriate time for him to doubt than the night before his crucifixion. “Are you sure, God? Are you sure, heavenly father?? Is there not some other way? Can’t you take this cup away from me?” And then just before he breathed his last on that cross the next day “Lord, Lord, why have you forsaken me?” Was it all for nothing? Help me understand! His dying cry from the Cross, a cry of despair and doubt. And then two days later… A clergy friend of mine is fond of saying that in his humble opinion no one was more surprised that first Easter morning than Jesus himself.
Yes, Thomas and all the rest of us who doubt are in good company. And when I had finally made my peace with that, that doubt is not the antithesis of faith, I realized a few things. In my times of doubting I am actually more engaged in a conversation, a relationship with God than at times when my spiritual life is just on auto-pilot. And I also came to the realization that God did not send us a giant volume of theology with all the answers in it, but rather came to us himself in the person of Jesus Christ in order to enter into a relationship with us. And in what relationship that any of us are involved, no matter for how many years, in what relationship do we have all the answers about the Other? There is always mystery — just when we think we have another figured out, whether it’s another human being or God, just when we think we have them figured out something surprising happens and we realize there is far more mystery. This all had great resonance for me. And during my initial visit to St. Stephen’s lo these almost 12 years ago, when I saw the tile plaques in the far end of the breezeway that says “Life is not a puzzle to be solved but a mystery to be celebrated” — I knew this was a community of kindred spirits.
So, yes — while on one level it may seem shocking, or at least odd that every year on the Sunday after we celebrate the biggest moment of our faith we enter into the story of doubt, while on one level this may seen shocking — on another level it makes perfect sense. Doubt is not the opposite of faith, it is, to quote author Frederick Buechner, the “ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.” Then Buechner went on to say “The opposite of faith is not doubt; it’s apathy.”
So we hear the story of Thomas today, and I for one am reassured. Thomas had his doubts, Jesus even had his doubts. I’m in good company. We’re in good company.
In addition to hearing the story of Thomas today, we’re doing something else. We’re celebrating with 7 young people who have completed Early Communion classes with Father Mike and Reverend Jo-Ann and are receiving communion here with us today. For most of them it is not their first communion, but they do come to the Lord’s Table today knowing more about communion, about what it means, about why it is so important in the life of Christians everywhere. Do they know everything there is to know about Communion? No. Do you? Do I? Communion, the Holy Eucharist, the Mass is, just like what those plaques out there in the breezeway say about life, not a puzzle to be solved but a mystery to be celebrated.
We come to the table with our faith, we come to the table with our doubts. But the important thing is we come — week in, week out. Sometimes we have an exquisite, direct experience of the presence of Jesus Christ — like the disciples to whom he was made known in the breaking of the bread. Sometimes we’re preoccupied with what we’ll do when we get home –tackle those taxes? Take a nap? Sometimes we’re overcome by a powerful sense of community — not just with those who gather with us on a given Sunday but also with those who for centuries have been gathering like this. We come. Week in, week out. And little by little our faith is strengthened. Little by little we live more securely in the knowledge that no matter our faith, no matter our doubts, God loves us unconditionally. And considering that Thomas — and even Jesus — had their doubts, don’t you suppose it’s okay for us too? AMEN.
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