The apostles have locked themselves in the upper room. It’s understandable really. It’s been a dramatic week and they are emotionally exhausted. Not to mention the fear of the authorities who crucified Jesus. It is still the day of the resurrection. There has been a lot of running back and forth, a lot of excitement, but Mary is the only one who has actually seen the risen Lord. They are in that same upper room where only days earlier, Jesus washed their feet and shared bread and wine with them.  

Thomas has gone out, probably to get supplies and to check out the current climate. And while he is away, Jesus appears to those who stayed behind. We can imagine how Thomas must have felt: excluded and unimportant, and he states that he will not believe unless he can see the risen Lord himself and put his hands in his wounds. And Jesus responds to this desire by appearing on another occasion to Thomas and letting him do exactly that. 

There are some important themes in this Gospel: first, Jesus says first to the gathered disciples and then in the second appearance to Thomas: “Peace be with you”.  

He also says “Whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven. Whose sins you retain, they are retained”. 

It is clear too that the resurrected Jesus is different:  not immediately recognizable: somehow changed. What are we to make of this? 

 How would you feel if a loved one who has passed away were to appear to you?  Would you be reassured? Frightened? disturbed? I am sure the disciples felt all of these emotions and more.  

Thomas is often maligned for his so-called doubts but I think he did the other disciples a huge favor by wanting to see for himself what they had already witnessed. And it is interesting to see how Jesus responded: he showed them that he was still him, still embodied. He showed them the scars in his hands and feet, and he ate a piece of fish, to show that he was still fully human. In all of his post-resurrection appearances, Jesus demonstrates his humanity: he hugs Mary when he encounters her in the garden, he shares a meal with the two disciples on the journey to Emmaus, and one of my favourite Gospel stories is when Jesus cooks breakfast for the disciples on a fire at the beach. And it is in these very human experiences that they recognize him: “This is my body”. 

In this embodied way, he shows them and us, that the Resurrection begins now. It is not a platitude or creed but the way we are to live, to be in communion with Jesus and one another, to be his body on earth, not as some disembodied fantasy, but in the reality of the time we are living in. 

We are a resurrection people, but we are also people who experience pain. If we begin to count the ways in which the story of the crucifixion reverberates today in our world, we might collectively fall to our knees. How many bodies are suffering in our world? I know that we all wake up every day to news headlines that tell us some bodies don’t matter, that they are expendable because they are Ukrainian bodies, because they are Hispanic bodies or Iranian bodies, because they are immigrant bodies, Indigenous bodies, unhoused bodies, addicted bodies, trans bodies…. the list goes on! Jesus and his scars are everywhere, but Jesus has made it clear that death does not have the last word and we, through faith are witnesses to that truth. 

Resurrection is not resuscitation, but transformation. Jesus’s resurrected body, while recognizable, Is a transformed presence. We believe that we will see him one day, that we will again see our loved ones who have died: that they, and we too when our time comes, will be a transformed, though still recognizable presence.  

This is something for us to wrestle with, and it brings us to the main theme of this Gospel, namely faith and the importance of doubt. As Anglicans we understand the importance of doubt, of having to live with the questions and not always getting clear answers. 

What does it mean “to walk by faith”? and is doubt the enemy of faith? Doubt causes us to question, to wrestle with what we can’t understand, and if we engage with it, it gives us the opportunity to grow in our faith. Because faith is not something static, it is something that grows with us as we grow and mature. If our understanding of God remains static over the years, then we are not growing in our faith. 

Faith is always a gift from God and never something that we can produce through our own efforts. God continually incarnates faith in the believer, and our task is to practice our faith. Faith is like a muscle that has to be exercised to stay strong and to keep growing. 

Faith is a journey, sometimes joyful, and sometimes a difficult journey. We do have tools to help us as we journey in faith: the community of faith, worship, the sacramental life of the church, and the constant rhythm of the liturgical year. We also have theologians, and spiritual leaders who can help us as we wrestle with life’s questions, but ultimately, we each have to walk the road and navigate the journey for ourselves. Our journey is a pilgrimage, and faith and doubt walk hand in hand on this road we travel. And as we journey, we recognise other people of faith who inspire us and help us to continue.  

One day, when we are in our transformed, resurrected bodies, there will be no need for faith, for then we will be pure love, united in the full presence of God, and with all eternity to grow in that love. Until then, we walk in faith and doubt, believing without seeing, supporting each other on the journey, and embodying the risen Christ in our lives. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

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