Second Sunday of Easter
John 20:19-31, Acts 5:27-32
Year C
I have always loved the “Doubting Thomas” story. It’s one of my favorite Jesus ironies, and it helps me imagine Jesus as I prefer to imagine him—walking in huge cosmic power yet managing to subvert power structures everywhere he goes.
First, Jesus shows up to a locked room of his friends, who are huddled away, scared to death. He gives them the gift of the Holy Spirit. He gives them peace and power over sins and forgiveness — which must have felt like a lot of big cosmic talk in a bunker of folks who weren’t willing to risk going outside. You wonder what that power must have felt like for that to feel believable.
But then, as if to drive it home even more, the one guy who missed it—who I imagine was too scared even to get to the group meeting place for that first week after Jesus had died—gets a special visitation from Jesus. Jesus clearly shows up for him specifically and calls him out with a sort of, “Yes — let’s talk about it. You want to do a medical exam? Is that where this rises and falls for you? Ok. We can do a medical exam. I hope you don’t get lightheaded at the sight of blood.”
Thomas, who I think is the one person who responds appropriately in this whole passage, offers a phrase we may have heard in other contexts to mean, I imagine, about the same thing. “My Lord and my God!”
But then—the best part—having given all the disciples a visit from the very presence of God, a bath of cosmic peace, and the power over sin and forgiveness, Jesus also gives them all a little scolding.
It is really just the most delightful inversion of hierarchical thinking. “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Which is to say something like, “Yes, I came and gave you all those cosmic gifts. And that’s fine. I do love you. But don’t you dare assume that you are more blessed than the people outside these walls. Don’t you dare assume that you have or are something better than anyone else you might encounter who wasn’t in this room. You had to see me, so I came. Not everyone needs all this.”
What does it mean that the son of God is telling his very best earthly friends that his coming to them so that they might believe is not actually the highest blessing—rather, his presence is a concession to their lack of belief? That in fact, there might be those Jesus never met—those who did not know him and yet believed. And those people? Those people are more blessed as a result of their belief than those who have seen Jesus with their own eyes.
Well, for those us in our special rooms on Sunday morning, where cosmic peace is discussed and forgiveness of sins is bandied about, it seems to me that alongside giving thanks for the gifts we receive in that space, we might walk back out into the world ready to trust and believe that those more blessed and holy than we walk by us all the time. Perhaps we might be more curious than we are preachy, more open than we are pedantic, as we remember that the blessing of Jesus is not something we can hold or hoard but something that has met us in our own shortcomings with the particular grace we need in order to believe. We don’t have to be Jesus’ most blessed for this to be good news. Perhaps this is worth both our gratitude and our humility.
Questions for reflection on the Second Sunday of Easter:
- Where do you find yourself in this story? Are you the frightened rule followers, there for Jesus’ first visit, proud of how ready you were to receive peace? Are you Thomas, even more afraid, wondering if the whole thing is nonsense, showing up late and asking loud, hard questions? Are you one who has not seen? One who has wondered and fought to believe, wondering where God is asking for some kind of blessing amidst all the ambiguity? Given where you find yourself, how does this portrayal of Jesus land? How do you experience the blessing of Jesus in your particular role?
- What rooms are you locked up hiding in? What if Jesus showed up there?
- Jesus has grace – even particular gifts – for those who can’t believe without seeing him again. What would happen if you prayed for what you think you need to believe, even if it doesn’t feel like you could ever have it? What would happen if you asked big, doubting questions right to God’s face? What if God showed up with love anyway?
View the corresponding Order of Worship for the Second Sunday of Easter
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