John 20:19-31
It’s easy to see why we call the Sunday after Easter “Low Sunday.” We all put our energy and focus on Holy Week and Easter, and then need to take a deep breath. But this isn’t only the first Sunday after Easter. This is May first, May Day.
May Day, of course, is a familiar term for several reasons. First, it’s the universally recognized distress call. It was coined in the 1920’s from the French “venez m’adair” meaning “come help me!”
In another context May Day is “International Workers Day” – a time for laborers and union members to demonstrate support for worker’s rights. While in the US and Canada there’s more emphasis on Labor Day in September, in much of the world today there will be demonstrations, rallies and parades reminding the public that workers are as critical to the world economy as, say, bankers and brokers. The May Day connection goes back to May 1, 1886, when striking laborers in Chicago clashed with police and many were left dead and injured.
In my mind this morning, both of these meanings of May Day connect with our Gospel lesson to remind us that: community and solidarity make us strong while isolation can leave us in distress and danger.
Granted, some are drawn to complete solitude and isolation. Some religious people flourish in a desert retreat or mountain monastery. Some artisans and creative souls can only do their amazing work in isolation. But most of us know we’re social creatures – we’re at our best when we’re connected and supported by others. The ancient Creation story from Genesis says that God saw it isn’t good for us to be completely alone.
I’ve always appreciated the insight of the late Secretary General of the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjöld, who remarked: “The real tragedy about being alone is not that I have no one else to worry about me, but that I have only my self to worry about.” When we cut ourselves off from the Christian community we can easily stop worshiping God and start worshiping our own opinions and prejudices about God. When we’re not connected to others we can easily become consumed with ourselves.
So it was for Thomas – one of the twelve – the central character in the scriptural story every year on this first Sunday after Easter. As the Gospel tells it, at word of the crucifixion Thomas had fled off by himself. When he returned late on Easter afternoon the other ten had told him of that Jesus had appeared to them. He said he wouldn’t believe it unless he saw the nail wounds in Jesus’ hands. Notice he didn’t ask for more proof than the others had received, only the same proof.
And isn’t that what doubt comes down to — enough evidence of one kind or another to tip the balance toward believing? Theologian Paul Tillich reminded us that faith isn’t the opposite of doubt, but is really doubt overcome. I’d go even further and suggest that faith and doubt are constant companions. So, a familiar theme in this account from John 20 is faith and doubt.
There’s another angle in this story that I want to explore; simply this: like Thomas, you’re likely to miss Jesus if you’re disconnected. Sometimes he makes personal appearances. Sometimes he’ll give a private audience. But you really can’t know the fullness of Jesus’ presence unless you’re meaningfully connected to other disciples.
Being Christian depends on our growth in the spirit – reading the Bible, praying for others, making time for reflection, examining our lives and our choices in the light of what Jesus taught us. But it’s far too common to stop right there. In our self-consumed, self-obsessed society it’s easy to pay attention to what I want; thinking that being Christian means I can adapt the Gospel to fit my own opinions and convictions; and that God will be my cosmic bellboy.
That’s backwards, of course. Being Christian means I connect myself to other Christians – to the Church – and that I try to adapt my life to the example of Jesus. Remember that wonderful image the Apostle Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 12 – we’re all the Body of Christ and individually members of it; that means being a member of the church not only in name but also in spirit. How many times have I heard it: “he never went to church but he was the Best Darn Christian you’d ever meet.” Not so. Not true. He may have read the Bible, prayed daily, done lots of good deeds, and loved Jesus, but was only half the Christian he would have been had he been active in the life of the Church… connected to others.
Why? The author and spiritual director Evelyn Underhill once wrote: “It is one of the most beautiful features of a real and living corporate religion, that within it ordinary people at all levels help each other to be a little more supernatural than each would have been alone.” [The Life of the Spirit and the Life of Today (1928), pg. 56]
None of us can be our best, our most spiritual, our most fruitful, our most effective, when we cut ourselves off from others who are trying to do the same. I am not the Body of Christ. You are not the Body of Christ. We are the body of Christ.
Those ten terrified disciples locked the doors and drew the shades to protect themselves from the Jewish authorities who would arrest and execute them. And as they trembled in fear Jesus himself appeared to them and instructed them. But Thomas almost missed Easter because he allowed his own struggles of the soul to pull him into isolation. When he was most discouraged and fearful he ran away from his community.
And ever since that Easter miracle the Holy Spirit has woven together the sacred community of believers across the generations. I delight every time I hear from one of you how your faith is growing, your life is enlarged, because you’re engaged in the community of the church. There are so many signs of the ways our lives are shaped and formed.
We know the Church would have disappeared long ago were it not for the determination and selfless love of those who have hung in there through thick and thin rather than pull away. Many simple saints have stepped up and acted out the faith – teaching Sunday school, leading a prayer group, singing in the choir, setting up the rummage sale, sitting in the pew, ushering, serving communion, advising the youth ministry, mentoring a Confirmand, serving on a Team or committee, visiting a shut-in and on and on forever, because of their faith in Jesus Christ. This is what it means to be the church.
In the 278 years since this very congregation was founded, thousands of people have called our church home. We’ve exhibited faith and faithfulness and courage in the struggles of life. Sometimes we, too, have run away and hidden just as Thomas did.
Without a doubt, many, many have encountered the living Christ together here by sharing life with the good, faithful, disciples who have gathered. It’s our holy calling and highest privilege to labor together to build up the church not for our sakes but for the sake of Jesus Christ.
And, without a doubt, that depends on each of us overcoming the temptation to run and hide – trusting, rather, that when we come together – even in fear and doubt – we will encounter Jesus among us.