SERMON
2 Easter A, May 1, 2011 – “Thomas, Faith and Doubt”
It’s interesting that the Gospels have stories of belief, but also stories of doubt. Whenever there is a story of faith, there’s always the possibility of doubt. It’s as if doubt is the twin of belief. Today’s Gospel is about Thomas who is known as the Twin. The Gospel never identifies Thomas’ twin, but it’s almost as if it’s saying that he is a twin to himself. He has a divided mind – part of him wants to believe, and part of him doubts.
The story begins on Easter evening. The disciples are gathered together in a locked room out of fear when Jesus appears among them. He says, “Peace to you,” and shows them his wounded hands and feet. Thomas, however, is not there, and when he returns, the others say to him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he refused to believe. “Unless I see for myself and touch the wounds myself, I will not believe,” He says.
Ten of the disciples believe, but one does not.
But the following Sunday, a week later, Jesus appears again to the disciples, and this time Thomas is with them. Again he says, “Peace to you.” And he says to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Do not doubt but believe.” And Thomas makes one of the most poignant confessions of faith, “My Lord and my God!”
It seems to me that Jesus came again to the disciples not only to convince Thomas, but also to bless his doubt. Jesus seemed to understand that Thomas needed a little more evidence before he could believe, and Jesus gave that evidence.
It seems to me that faith and doubt are mingled together. To have faith means to entertain doubts. If you say that you have no doubts, your faith is probably fairly rigid or superficial.
A lot of us have questions about faith. We wonder, “Why can’t I have more faith? If I have faith, then why doesn’t God hear my prayers? What if it’s just not true? What if the church has pulled a fast one on us? Why do I need the church for my faith? Couldn’t I believe without going to church?
What the Gospel story is saying today, I think, is that doubts are OK.
I don’t know when it was I began to believe. I can point to some moments of clarity and revelation, but I can’t tell you exactly when I really began to believe. I was raised in the church but when I left home for college, I left behind my parents’ faith. I didn’t go to church, I didn’t read the Bible.
If you asked me what I believed, I probably couldn’t tell you. I was living for the moment, and I believed that experience was more important than abstract ideas or religious blather. I was young and free, so I could do whatever I wanted.
Then I got married and had children. There’s something about being a parent that changes you. I remember walking home from the hospital carrying our firstborn son, and everything looked different to me. Now I had responsibilities. There was a little person in my arms who depended completely on me and Katy, and I realized I wasn’t up to the job. I had no preparation for this. I had no idea what it meant to bring a life into the world.
We began to go to church (Katy was an Episcopalian, so we went to the little Episcopal Church) and it began to work on me. I sang the hymns, I said the creed, I mumbled the prayers. But I didn’t believe yet.
I think it was in the early morning hours when I woke up with a frightening anxiety that I began to cast myself on God and then I started to believe. It wasn’t that I suddenly said, “Now I’m going to believe.” It was more like God crept up on me. After I’d prayed earnestly a few times and searched the Bible for answers and comfort that I actually started to believe. Even then, it wasn’t a line in the sand that I drew and stepped over. It was more like a gradual process, a coming-to-believe.
And there were certainly doubts in the middle of that. When I prayed and found myself feeling foolish like I was speaking to a blank wall, that was doubt. When I wondered if the Church had just made up all its belief systems for it’s own good, that was doubt. When I pondered the amazing insights of science and how they explain so much of the universe, I doubted whether religion was true.
But somewhere in the process of all that, I began to make a shift to belief. Undoubtedly it was the process of daily prayers, of weekly communion, of habits that began to reinforce the mental structure I was creating. And when I had moments of crisis, those were the determining factor. I had to believe to get myself through the crisis. God became real to me.
I still have doubts. Sometimes I wonder how the resurrection story could be true, and what that even means. I wonder if the church has gotten some things wrong over the centuries – well, I know they’ve gotten some things wrong, and I wonder if that matters.
And now I’ve come to the point where I resonate with the Psychologist Carl Jung who said, “I don’t need to believe in God. I know. I know.”
A story by Dr. Carl Self, a Baptist pastor: There was a pastor who was in his office when a parishioner came in. The man said, “Pastor, I think I’m losing my faith. I may drop out of church.” The pastor said, Listen, I have a hospital visit I have to make in a few minutes. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll talk in the car?” So they drove to the hospital together. When they got to the hospital room, the parishioner stood quietly while the pastor went to the patient, a man in his thirties dying of cancer. The pastor took his hand, listened to him, read some scripture and said a prayer. When he was done, there were tears in the patient’s eyes. All this took less than 15-20 minutes. They got back in the car, and the parishioner said, “I’ve changed my mind. You’ve restored my faith, and I won’t be leaving church.”
