11 April, 2015

I Am a Modern Day Doubting Thomas

It had been a wonderful Easter weekend; I woke up to a bright sunny Easter Monday; sat down and opened my computer to read the readings for the upcoming Sunday.  I started, as I always do, with the Gospel.  Dear G--why do I have to have routine. Doubting Thomas!  Seriously?!?!?  I may have screamed it aloud, "I DO NOT WANT TO PREACH ON DOUBTING THOMAS!"  I'm not exaggerating when I say my body began to shake.

Why in the world did I agree to preach on Easter 2?  That was the stupidest thing I've ever done.  I have to leave the beach a day early just to preach on Doubting Thomas?  I must have had a momentary complete lapse of judgment when I agreed to that; now how to get out of it?

Dangnabit!  I can't get out of it.  Now I remembered.  The reason I agreed was because it was for my dear friend and colleague.  Why did I have to like him so much?  Why did I want to help him?  Then a lightbulb went on.  I'll use one of the other readings--okay it was a dim lightbulb--who doesn't preach on the Gospel this Sunday?  The lightbulb brightened; I can use my sermon from last year--
same text (John 20:19-31) different church. And if I remembered correctly, it was fairly well received.  Problem solved--now to head out for a run.

I began my run not yet turning on the book I was listening to and heard a voice in my head--the more reasonable voice in my head--"You cannot preach the same sermon.  Different community, different context, different time.  If you preach that same sermon you are in essence (see it was a different voice, who in the world says, 'in essence' to themselves?) saying that nothing has changed since last year.  You have not changed; the world has not changed; there has been no transformation.  If you preach that sermon you are saying that one Easter--one Holy Week--one journey into death and resurrection is all we have, and in essence (stupid words again) the powers of the world have won--will always win."

I began to cry.  I seem to be doing that a lot lately.  I began to cry because I realized that this Lent for the first time in my entire life I did journey into that deep dark place of pain and death--into doubt.  I cried because for the first time  in my life I did question the existence of God.  How in the world could I, a priest--a woman ordained in the Episcopal Church,  proclaim the Gospel when I in fact was Doubting Thomas in the flesh?

People were beginning to stare at me so I turned on my book hoping that would make me forget.  I was listening to Marcus Borg's and John Crossan's book, The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus' Final Days in Jerusalem. (Harper One; January 2007)  Whatever anyone thinks about these two men as theologians, scholars, liberals or conservatives, I highly recommend this book.  (At least I do now...)

First sentence, seriously very first sentence I heard was, "Growing up the only thing worse than being called a Doubting Thomas was being called Judas."  That did NOT help stop the tears.  But I was crossing the road so I couldn't look down and turn off the book without being hit by a car--the next sentence was something to the effect of, "Just because Thomas doubted doesn't mean he didn't have faith.  But Jesus wanted Thomas to believe and in the Gospel of John believing is about relationship. Jesus wanted to be in relationship with Thomas." And, I thought, Thomas desperately wanted to be in relationship with Jesus.

Perhaps, and possibly worth exploring, I have also been Judas; however, what mattered to me in that moment is that I felt the deep deep pain of Thomas.  I suppose he felt left out and alone.  He hadn't been there with the others--the others believed, had a relationship, and Thomas desperately wanted to believe--to still be in relationship.  I realized that was exactly what happened to me; I was feeling left out and alone--abandoned.  And it struck me hard--what Thomas needed to believe--to be in relationship, to feel relationship--was to touch the wounds of Jesus.  Last year I preached, "Jesus
meets us where we are and in the way we need to be met." I remembered; I had been met where I needed to be met--in and through my wonderful community of teachers and friends--God had not abandoned me; I experienced God through these people. Through them God's existence was again clear--okay not crystal clear but becoming more clear and definitely real and good.  Through my friends I re-believed that God was working to end my pain and was still clearly working in the world to end pain.  My friends and many others are participating with God.

I have to admit, I wasn't entirely convinced I could preach this sermon.  Words of my preaching professors floated in and out of my mind--"do not make the sermon about you.  Make certain your sermon is about proclaiming the Gospel and not a self help talk."  This was going to be a struggle.  I am still hurting; how do I hide that so that I don't make it about me?

I'm not sure....what I did realize on that run was that God was and is transforming the world.  God was and is transforming both personal lives and communities--even when we as individuals, me as an individual don't see it.   As the book says, "Jesus passion was the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of God is about compassion."  The book continues by saying if we are to follow "the way" we are to enter into personal and political transformation--dying to egoism defined as centering in the anxious and fearful self; its concerns and desires and further compassion and love is central to the life of Jesus and justice is the social form of compassion.

God invites us to participate in the continuing transformation of the world, and I have seen that this year.  I have seen people, communities become passionate about God's passion.  I have seen people and communities come together to love and to strive for justice--people whose only common bond is belief in equality.  As Bishop White says, "God loves everyone no exceptions."  I have seen people living out this truth.


Borg and Crossan write (I'm remembering this and tried to write it down as I was listening so this is not directly quoting) that love is the soul of justice and justice is the flesh--the body of love.  Good Friday is about how powerful the forces of the world are but Easter affirms the Jesus is Lord--the power of the world is not.

I've procrastinated working on this sermon although it's been in floating in the recesses of my mind all week.  I have never been able to totally get away from it.  Yesterday I was touring the College of Charleston with William (a whole other blog--seriously I have a third child getting ready for college?) and as we were standing in front of the library we saw and heard a group of protestors--all
ages, all races, approaching, "Show me what democracy looks like?  This is what democracy looks like." they shouted over and over.  I heard, "Show me what the Kingdom of God looks like?  This is what the Kingdom looks like."  (yes, it's true I teared up).

I know I have to preach on this--from the depths of my soul, from my personal pain and from the hope I have seen in the world.  I have 10 hours in the car today to think about it--I have no idea what the sermon will be but I believe what Borg and Crossan say, "Easter mean's God's great clean up of the world has begun."




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