Second Easter, 2005:

A man came tiptoeing in with his shoes in his hand one morning about 5:30, after an all-night poker game, and as he passed his wife’s bed she looked up at him and said, in her gruffest voice, “George, what are you doing coming in at this time of night?”

He thought she was asleep, so it surprised him so much he had a hard time thinking up an excuse.  He stuttered around, hemming and hawing, and finally told her, “Uh, honey, I got in so late last night I decided the best thing to do was not to wake you up, so I slept in the hammock on the porch.  Then the birds got to chirping, woke me up, so I figured I’d just come on up.”

“George,” she said, even gruffer than before, “I took the hammock down two weeks ago and put it in the garage.”

Poor George was really addled now.  He dropped his shoes, faced her, and said in his bravest voice, “Well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!”

We’re not told what story Thomas told the other disciples about where he’d been and why he wasn’t there when Jesus made the first resurrection appearance.  We don’t know the many stories about why more than half of those who were here last Sunday aren’t here again today.  That’s been the story of the church’s experience with Easter for a long time.  Too many people treat Easter as a day and not a whole season.  Easter is in fact the great 50 days of joy.  Each Sunday, from now until Pentecost, is Easter Sunday.  Just a week removed from Easter, some apparently feel their hopes growing a bit faded.  Easter joy can be difficult to sustain.  Welcome to what is traditionally called, “Low Sunday.”

Today’s Gospel gives us an opportunity to be honest about our post-resurrection letdown.  Yet is also reminds us that our faith, our hope, is not of our own creation.  We have joy and confidence because the Risen Lord comes and stands among us again this day.

The Risen Lord appeared to his disciples, except for Thomas, and gave then his peace.  He then commissioned them to do the same work that he himself had been doing, gave them the gift of the Holy Spirit, and thus empowered them with the same power that had characterized his ministry in the world.  He also gave them the awesome power to proclaim forgiveness of sins.

All these gifts are pretty amazing, considering that these are the same disciples who proved singularly unhelpful during much of the previous week.  Today these same disciples are huddled together behind locked doors out of fear.  Yet, to these faithless, fearful, utterly ordinary folks Jesus gave his commission, breathed the Holy Spirit into their nostrils, and bestowed on them the power to forgive in his name.  It’s all rather amazing and a wonderful word to hear in the post-Easter doldrums.

The Gospel portrays the disciples, the first followers of Jesus, as those who had doubts.  Obviously, many in this congregation, including the one speaking with you at the moment, have doubts.  Sometimes, we attempt to stifle our doubts, to lay them aside, and not think about them.  Sometimes we become dogmatic and closed-minded and speak in absolutes.  We forget the truth in Lord Byron’s phrase, “There is more faith in honest doubt than in half the Creeds.”  Doubts are there.

The doubting inner voice asks, “What if the whole thing was just made up?”  “What if it all is just wishful thinking, just the psychic defense against eternal death?”  If we have doubts, does that mean we are bad Christians?  Fredrick Buechner, contemporary writer and theologian and son-in-law of Madeline L’Engle, said, “If you don’t doubt, you are either kidding yourself or asleep.”

Psychologists and educational theorists speak about the importance in the educational process of “cognitive dislocation,” that territory where we are moving from one cognitive position into new and unexplored territory.  Last Sunday, during the baptismal service, we prayed that Parry Elizabeth and Luca Taylor might have an “inquiring and discerning heart.”  I would suggest that doubt is an essential requirement for such a heart.  Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith, they it alive and moving and growing.  It is a said day when Christian people stop questioning and growing.  It is an even sadder day when they think they know all they need to know.  Generally, others have to pay a steep price for that ignorance.

Doubts may be a helpful part of the faith process, but they can also be painful.  It is painful, in those moments when God seems less than we want God to be.  Those times when we cry out and there seems to be no response very often leaves us with that empty feeling in the pit of our stomachs.  We want things to be certain, we want the assurance of God’s abiding presence, and we want to feel it at the very center of our being.

Jesus said that if we have faith, even a small amount of certain faith, we will be able to move mountains.  But, most of us do not want to move mountains with our faith.  We merely want to keep going, to have hope in the midst of difficult circumstances, and to no the ground will be there to support our next step.  We probably can identify with the longings of Thomas.  We believe, but we need help with our unbelief.  We’ll believe it, when we see it.

In the Gospel, the good news is that Jesus gave Thomas what he needed to deal with his doubts and uncertainties.  He moved toward Thomas, showed him his scars, giving him evidence, and allowed Thomas to handle him.  That seems to be a characteristic of this one we call Jesus the Christ. 

The report of the Long Range Planning Committee to the congregation, which was inserted in the Easter service booklet last Sunday, gives a clear indication that this church has in the past, and is now, willing to work beyond doubts and live into the calling to be evidence of the fact that God raised Jesus from the dead.  We are not going to hide our light under a basket, we are not going to assume that everyone knows how to find us, and we are going to stop assuming that everyone in Bedford who wants to be an Episcopalian already is one.  We are stepping out in faith.  Not everyone will agree with our decisions.  Not everyone has to.  We do have to watch our negative attitude, our judgmental inclinations, and our assumption that someone else will do our part.

So, dear friends in Christ, we will be honest about our doubts and questions and uncertainties.  We will be equally honest in our hopes and dreams about the potential for new, resurrected life and direction.  We have been visited and blessed and breathed upon by the Risen Lord.  We put out our hands again this day and touch his brokenness and we join with Thomas in saying, “My Lord and my God!”   Amen.