The Hope Of Spring
John 20:19-31, Acts 5:27-32
One of the fun things about moving into a new house is watching all the new things sprout in the spring. The azaleas in front are fuschia and white. The roses are bright red. Hosta has come up and surprised me in several places. There’s something coming up that I haven’t identified yet. But the very first surprise happened in February. The secret had been kept all winter long. Hiding in the cold, hard ground were the bulbs, sleeping and conserving their energy. Then, in the cold of February, the green tendrils announce their next appearance! Daffodils! They had been there all along. Secretly working away at growing an ever larger and deeper root system. They are made for this. Flower bulbs are built for surviving the cold, there buried in the ground.
Without sending an invitation, without any asking, without any coaxing, without anyone’s annual payment, they just appear year after year, fulfilling earth’s subscription to beauty and to new life. It is the promise of Spring.
In today’s text, I want you to keep an open mind toward the apostle, Thomas. I will not call him Doubting Thomas. That nick-name is the first thing, we should reconsider. Not only that doubt is something to be disparaged, but that he’s been sidelined into this category of slightly inferior disciples because of his skepticism and Jesus’ perceived rebuke. Jesus’ appearances to the disciples deserve a closer look. Doubt has a role to play. (Lose)
Imagine an invisible continuum in this room, stretching down the center aisle, with one end being ultimate faith and the other end ultimate doubt (as if they’re opposites), what if I asked you to place yourself somewhere on the line that identified your level of belief? I imagine we would have someone standing on every inch of that line - pole to pole. Sure your position may change depending on the day of the week or the hour of the day. While some would remain steadfast. Looking at today’s text, we might wonder where the disciples are on this continuum of faith and doubt.
On the evening of the day that Jesus has been resurrected, a room full of disciples gathered behind locked doors – afraid of what those who had crucified Jesus could also do to them. Then, as gently and unexpectedly as daffodils in February, Jesus appeared, saying, “Peace, be with you.” Showing them his hands and his side, he revealed that though he is risen, his body still bears the marks of death. “Peace, be with you…”, he says again. He literally breathes the life back into them. Their pain and sorrow melt away. With his breath, he infuses them with the Holy Spirit, reinflating their souls. (Marty) Breathing in peace. Breathing out relief.
It was a pretty important moment.
Where was the apostle Thomas on that first Easter evening? He missed it!
I want to imagine there could be a perfectly good reason. Perhaps, he was on a long walk to clear his head, or cry his eyes out. Jesus was gone. His body is missing. Perhaps, he had gone home for a hot meal and some sleep. OR Maybe he was acting as a lookout, listening in the streets to see if they were in as much danger as they feared. Thomas is not cowardly. He did not shrink from adversity. Previously, in chapter 11, when Jesus declared his intention to return to Judea -- and the other disciples try to dissuade him because they know it will mean his death -- it is Thomas who urges them to follow Jesus “so that we may die with him.” (John 11:16, Lose)
He doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who would desert his fellow disciples. For whatever reason, he wasn’t with them that night and now, he’s struggling to accept what they’re saying. He has just witnessed his dear friend and Lord be put to death on a cross, speared in the side, and buried in a borrowed tomb. Hadn’t this all just happened? When his friends tell him that they have seen the Lord and he is alive, he reacts with a skeptic's realism. He just wants to see Jesus for himself. (Sermon Brainwave podcast)
And didn’t the others have the very experience that Thomas is asking for? Jesus appeared to them in some hybrid version of himself that was both physical and spiritual. Here they are already on edge and Jesus appears! Perhaps they drew weapons which is why Jesus says, Peace, Peace! According to the text, Jesus immediately put out his hands and showed them his side. “It’s me!” There he was in the spirity-flesh. With their own eyes, they could see, he was real. Was Thomas asking for any more than that (Lose)?
I’m thinking of all the times, I could have used a fleshy-spiritual Jesus to appear and take away my fear, my grief, my lostness. I bet you could have too.
➢ Has there been a time that you’ve felt like one of these disciples hiding out in the upper room? On edge, looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop?
➢ Or have you simply given up looking, waiting for miracles, or Jesus, or God to show up in any form?
Doubt, disbelief, apathy -- all normal responses to grief, hurt, and heart-break. Thomas’ heart was broken. And so are ours over many things. A Jesus-in-the-flesh sighting would be welcomed!
“From Thomas, we [can] learn that searching for proof of God’s existence is a fool’s errand, but experiencing God’s presence for ourselves is precisely what we need.” The certainty we long for is the felt presence of God with us (Marty).
Jen Hatmaker (writer/author) helped me reconsider this text when she wrote:
“It wasn’t Jesus’ face Thomas wanted to see, not his voice he wanted to hear. It was Jesus’ wounds he wanted to touch. He wanted not just confirmation of his rising but evidence (proof) of his suffering. ...Only people who believe Jesus’ wounds were real can ever imagine trusting Him with their own. On the cross, Jesus placed his story of woundedness right next to ours. [Right next to the one killed in the accident, right next to immigrants, victims of war, or anyone facing hardship.] Jesus does not leave his suffering behind..., but he carries the scars still and is somehow both wounded and resurrected… This, my friends, is something in which we can be certain. He is as with us in our wounds as He is in our rising. In the person of Jesus, those two are woven together (Hatmaker).
This week, I revisited this brilliant piece of poetry. It begins by asking the reader to remember the dark, frozen winter (just 6 weeks ago a small group of us nearly froze as we walked the labyrinth that first week of Lent ) - The poet writes, (Garnaas-Holmes)
“Why would your hands believe in spring?” the poet asked. In the dead of winter, when “the matted grasses are the color of cardboard, the color of not caring.” Why would your hands believe in spring?
When health issues and medical bills pile up; Why would our hands believe in spring?
When the stress at work never relents, when your office (or classroom) becomes a counseling center for students or colleagues in distress; Why would our hands believe in spring?
When the foster system has more children than adequate homes to place them in; why would your hands believe in spring?
When your immigrant neighbor fears allowing their young child to go to school; why would your hands believe in spring?
When the work of peacemaking and social justice, feels like 1 step forward and 2 steps back; Why would our hands believe in spring?
Because we are stubborn like old gardeners!
We dig anyway when it’s cold.
We pray anyway asking for healing and miracles.
We show up and teach English, or drive folks to the food pantry. We plan SS lessons for children. We meet teenagers for early morning coffee. We cook, and bake, and share because nourishing a body is the first step to nourishing a soul.
Though we may doubt and be discouraged, We dig anyway. Hands chapped and red. Fingers aching from scratching around in the cold ground. Because even in our doubts and frustrations, we know in our hearts, bulbs are built for surviving the cold. The daffodils always find their way up to the light of day . This is the promise of Spring. (Garnaas-Holmes)
There is overwhelming evidence in the patterns of the universe: that death gives way to new life over and over again. And if we can trust in this promise of spring, this miracle that we witness year after year, can we not allow for the possibility that God is also at work in us – even in the coldest, darkest times in our lives?
If Jesus stood here in fleshy spirit before us, he would say, Peace, friend, put your hands here, put your woundedness right here next to mine. Set any doubts aside, trust in what you can see and believe. Life daffodils in February, God is always at work in our lives, even when you can’t see it.
Sources
Choi, Jin Young. “Commentary on John 20:19-31” Working Preacher April 11, 2021 https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-john-2019-31-16.
Garnaas-Holmes, Steve. “Doubting Thomas.” Unfolding Light. www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/2901?rq=doubting%20thomas
Hatmaker, Jen. Facebook April 4, 2021. www.facebook.com/jenhatmaker
Lose, David. “Faithful Doubt.” Working Preacher, April 24, 2011, www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/faithful-doubt.
Marty, Peter W. “Reflections on the lectionary.” The Christian Century, March 24, 2021, p. 23.
“Sermon Brainwave.” Working Preacher. Rolf Jacobson, Karoline Lewis, Joy J. Moore, and Matt Skinner. Brainwave #779, Second Sunday of Easter, April 5, 2021.