When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord [John 20:19-20].
Years ago, when the committee that crafted the Revised Common Lectionary considered what might be the most appropriate Gospel lesson for the Second Sunday of Easter (i.e., the Sunday that follows Easter) in each year of the three-year cycle, it did something unusual: it chose a single reading—John 20:19-31—for all three years. To be sure, the post-resurrection reading from John is rich in both depth and context. With that text in his/her “pocket,” the preacher/teacher can head in one of several directions.
For example, to the extent that the pastor’s denomination stresses the doctrine of apostolic succession—the notion that Jesus commissioned the original disciples to take his message to the world—this week’s reading contains what is often called “the Johannine Pentecost.” While the Holy Spirit surely descended upon the church on Pentecost (Acts 2), this week’s text reveals a prior, separate gift of Holy Spirit to the disciples:
Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” [John 20:21-23].
The “episcopal” churches—the Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Anglican, Episcopal, and Methodist traditions—can show a line of succession from the current group of bishops, all the way back to the eleven disciples (i.e., the original twelve, minus Judas).
In my discussions with colleagues over the years, I’ve found that all too many pastors think the allusion to the Johannine Pentecost is a bit dry, particularly when the preacher/reader is presented with an alternative and wonderful human-interest story: “doubting Thomas.” There’s the intrigue—why was it that ten out of eleven could make the prayer meeting? Where was Thomas in the evening of the first Easter? Lord knows! (Pun intended!).
Perhaps it’s because I share his name, but I’ve always thought the church was just a little too harsh with our friend, Thomas. Surely, he said:
Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe [John 20:25].
Yet on the other hand, I’d have two observations:
- A week later, when Jesus tells Thomas to touch his Lord’s nail-scarred hand and to put Thomas’ hand in Jesus’ side, Thomas does not need to do so. His recognition of his Lord is immediate and unqualified.
- If we go back to the opening verses of this pericope, the ones that I have highlighted at the top of this meditation, we see that all the other disciples did not believe until they too had seen the risen Christ. Why not “doubting Peter?”
This second point is important. On Easter morning, when Mary Magdalene had run from the tomb (and her encounter with “the Gardener”; see last week’s Gospel text, John 20:15-16]) in order to tell the disciples her cosmos-shattering news, “I have seen the Lord,” their reaction appears to have been one of doubt and fear. As we read this week’s Gospel lesson, some 12 hours or so have passed since Mary offered that first New Testament sermon—should women be allowed such liberty?—and yet the disciples (minus Judas and Thomas) are hunkered down in fear inside the house where they had earlier met. Like so many Protestant churches—even before COVID-19—the disciples have locked and bolted shut the doors. One can never be too careful.
John tells us that they had locked the doors because of their fear of the Jews (20:19), but as I noted in last year’s meditation for the Second Sunday of Easter, it may also have been that they were trying to avoid one Jew in particular—the risen Jesus. To be sure, they had not betrayed Jesus, as had Judas, but none of them, particularly “rock solid” Peter, came off very well in the wake of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and execution.
I’ve “buried my lead” a bit here, but for me, the real strength of this passage is not what it says about Thomas. It isn’t even what it says about the ten who had gathered in the house where they earlier had met with Jesus before his death. No, the strength of the text is in the fact that it expresses something powerful and wonderful about the nature of the Risen Christ. In spite of the bolted door, in spite of the lockdown, in spite of the “stay in place” order, and the “quarantine” of sorts, the Risen Lord appeared to the 10 disciples anyway.
That, you see, is the nature of the Risen Christ. He is completely uncontrollable. He can’t be managed or discouraged. He found a way through all their contrived barriers, all their fears, all their doubts and questions, and in doing so, the Risen Christ also offers hope for those of us who cower behind barriers of our own.
There once was a young man named Thomas. He had spent his early life preparing for a fine career within the modern, secular world. He studied hard, went to one of the finest colleges, went on to one of the finest professional schools, excelled there as had always been the case. He landed the perfect job, and began the process of carefully constructing his own world, a world defined by his own imagination and drive.
To be sure, he had always known of Christ’s existence. From time to time, he’d even felt Christ’s presence, but Christ’s agenda seemed to the young man to be too costly, too haphazard. Whatever else could be said about Christ’s Way, the young man knew that It was beyond his own control; Christ lived outside the young man’s careful plans. Perhaps the Risen Christ could be “bought off” with financial donations and the “gift” of small segments of time. And so, the young Thomas did just that, but always in measured, careful quantities.
With his plans, within “his world,” the young Thomas had skillfully erected first a parapet, then what he thought to be an impervious wall. He could be master of his side of reality; he’d allow the Risen Christ to have His domain on the other side. The funny thing: just as easily as the Risen Lord passed through the bolted door of the Upper Room to “get at” the ten cowering disciples on that first Easter evening, so that same powerful, yet loving Christ found no challenge in the barriers erected by Thomas. You see, when Christ is after you, you really stand no chance!
And so, my friends, scripture keeps getting repeated in our lives and in our hearts. Christ keeps breaking through every barrier that we erect. As I mentioned last year, this Gospel lesson reminds us that in the midst of our own sin and abandonment of our Lord, He never gives up on us. He finds us when we cower in our safe rooms, in our world of safe-distancing, in our perceived isolation, even as we bear not only the weight of our fear, but also the burden of our shame and sorrow.
He desires you! His desire is insatiable. What’s more, the Gospel message shows us that He will stop at nothing until he secures you for Himself. Thanks be to God!
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