Tuesday, 14 April 2015

Doubting Thomas?

The Gospel last Sunday concerned Thomas’ reaction to the report that the other disciples had seen Jesus raised from the dead.  No doubt many of the sermons that were preached concentrated on the doubts of the one we still label ‘doubting Thomas’.

But I think that is unfair to the person who after all made the powerful statement of faith, ‘My Lord and my God!’ And let’s not forget that it was Thomas who had previously encouraged the other disciples to follow Jesus to Bethany to Lazarus’ grave, whatever the risk, with the words ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him’ (John 11:16). Thomas was clearly not a sceptic or temperamentally hesitant. His desire for ‘proof’ of the resurrection has two aspects.

Firstly – as I wrote a couple of weeks ago – the resurrection of Jesus was not expected by anyone; in no way was it a ‘likely’ event. Jesus’ contemporaries knew what death was about; dead people don’t wander around. And those who hoped for a resurrection were looking to what would happen ‘on the last day’, that is, at the end of human history, when the righteous would be raised (we see that in Mary’s words to Jesus in John 11:24.)

Thomas’ reaction – like that of the women who ran away from the empty tomb in fear – reminds us of the surprising and disconcerting nature of that experience. They prevent us from being too glib in finding parallels between Jesus’ resurrection and the annual wonder of spring. (Paul’s illustration, in 1 Corinthians 15, of a seed dying and producing fruit, is making a different point altogether – that of continuity and identity in the resurrection body, which is transformed into something apparently quite new.)

In a sense, Thomas’ request is much more profound than expressing surprise. He is indeed astonished that Jesus, whose suffering and death had been all too evident, should have been raised already. But now he also desires to be sure of continuity between that suffering and the risen state of the Lord. Is the Risen Christ still the Jesus who was rejected, beaten and crucified?

The woundedness of the Risen Christ is important. Easter Day doesn’t cancel out Good Friday, any more than the Ascension cancels out the Annunciation. The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us – and is eternally really God and really Human – and eternally the One who in this reality suffered and was wounded. He has overcome death – but the continuing presence of the wounds highlights his vulnerability and his ongoing identification with all our pains and suffering.

Our brothers and sisters who suffer torture and death at the hands of Islamic State can be assured that the Crucified and RIsen One shares their torment and transforms it. Those who watch and wait with a dying child or partner can be sure that the wounded Jesus is eternally aware of human pain as he ‘always lives to intercede for them’ (Hebrews 7:25).

Thomas’ request is a powerful reminder to us of these great truths. But he also reminds us of the fact that our relationship with God can and should involve us in wrestling with the deep things of our faith and in what we might call an ongoing conversation with the Lord. Let us show respect to the one who is not so much ‘doubting Thomas’ as Thomas the example of true faith!

Tuesday, 7 April 2015

Easter thoughts

‘They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid’: so ended the Gospel reading on Sunday. Was that the original ending to Mark’s Gospel?  The presence of verses 9 to 20 in the Received Text (as translated in the Authorised Version) shows that is was felt to be inadequate. Many commentators assume that Mark had originally included some mention of the appearance of the Risen Christ.

Yet there is something really powerful in the final verse as we have it in the best texts, even if it is not the best literary Greek. It highlights the awesome nature of the women’s experience and makes it clear that nobody was expecting to find an empty tomb.  The Resurrection of Jesus was not some kind of projected wishful thinking; the women were overwhelmed and unsure of the significance of what they discovered.

It is easy for us to trivialise the Easter event. We know it happened, and we can fall into the habit of treating it as the obvious outcome. Jesus was the Son of God; of course he rose from the dead. But there is no ‘of course’. Jesus died, and the natural outcome of death is the end of activity, the decay of the body. But the tomb in which Jesus was laid was empty, and soon the women and the disciples would experience the unthinkable – not a resuscitated Jesus, but a triumphant and transformed Jesus, who still bore the wounds of his suffering and yet transcended the limitations of physical nature.

Easter does not wipe out the negativity and darkness of the Cross – he is still wounded and scarred. But despite that – perhaps because if that – he has overcome; resurrection has happened and the new order of God’s kingdom is already breaking into this world and enabling us to have a new experience of the love and glory of God.

Of course the women were afraid and disconcerted. So would we have been – and so should we be, if we really grasp the message and the meaning. Failure and death do not have the last word; the powers that be, with their attempts to impose their power and domination, do not have the last word.  Indeed there is no ‘last word’, only the Word of God who suffers defeat and depowers the powers. Christ is risen, and so there is hope. 

I like these words of Melito of Sardis (from the Catholic Office of Readings for Easter Monday):
Though Lord, he became man; he suffered for those who were suffering, he was bound for the captive, judged for the condemned, buried for the one who was buried; he rose from the dead and cried out: ‘Who shall contend with me?... I have freed the condemned, brought the dead to life, raised up the buried.’

The resurrection declares that there is hope for those who are broken and overwhelmed; there is light for those who are in the valley of darkness. The challenge we face is whether we will be bold to share this hope and light, or whether, like the women, we will fail to tell anyone through fear.