Thomas Sermon

I don't normally post sermons, but since I've had a couple of requests for copies of this one, I'm going to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I didn't write it all out until after the sermon, so it's probably a little different here than what I preached at 9 or 11 on Sunday April 12, 2015. 
The Gospel story for the sermon was of Jesus returning to the disciples both on the first Sunday after his crucifixion and then a week later (8 days) returning to that same room. Thomas missed the first visit, and wouldn't believe unless he saw the mark of the nails and put his hand in Jesus' side. On the second visit, he had his opportunity. John 20:19

Thomas

When I was about 9 or 10, I became fascinated with climbing up on the roof of my childhood home in Silsbee, TX. I didn't do it very often, and it all probably started with helping my dad get leaves and sticks down once or twice a year. Every-so-often, though I would sneak up there on my own, when everyone else was away. There was one spot where a corner of the fence was near the roof, and I could climb up the fence and get on the roof without a ladder.  One day I was up there, and I saw my sister CC, who is seven years older than I am, turn down the road on her way home. I panicked, I was going to be caught. I rushed over to the corner of the roof and stepped down onto the fence, and tried to stand on it, but my food slipped, and I ended up scraping my side from my  belly up to my armpit. It hurt. I limped my way out front, where I met CC, who was coming to see if I was alright. I was afraid she was going to tell on me and get me in trouble; instead, she helped me get cleaned up, and take care of my wounded side. It was the beginning of a new phase of our relationship. From then on, I knew that if I found myself somewhere I didn't think I was supposed to be, that I could talk to her without fear of getting in trouble. She would just help me take care of myself and get me cleaned up. 

Let's roll back the story, way back to the beginning. To Genesis. Remember there are two creation stories in Genesis, one of the 7 days ending with Adam and Eve's creation, and one that begins with the creation of humanity. God starts with Adam, then creates Eve from a rib. Now, I grew up in Texas eating ribs, so I always knew from that story that God neatly slid a single rib out of Adam and began the process, right? I was amazed to hear my Old Testament professor in seminary describing the scene and explaining that the Hebrew word used is something closer to a rack of ribs...a side of ribs; God took that original human and split it in two to make Adam and Eve, male and female. The humans, being separated, began a quest to relate to one another, to heal their brokenness, and then enters the snake with all the answers, and the eating from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Eyes now wide open, they found themselves naked, broken, and ashamed, and when God came walking along, they hid for fear of getting in trouble. In the end they could no longer stay in that Garden of innocence; they had the knowledge of good and evil now; it was time to go face the world. God protected them with real clothing for their journey out into the world. 

Now on this second Sunday in Easter, we arrive at the story of this second Adam. Theologians through the ages of the church have referred to Jesus as the Second Adam, and pointed out the two trees, one of the fall and one of our redemption. The tree of our broken innocence, and the tree of our healing.  We live our  lives between these two trees of birth and of rebirth. In this story, we hear of Jesus' frightened disciples gathered in a room together with the doors shut on  that first Resurrection Sunday. Jesus appears to them, this God who put-on-flesh, and reveals not only the holes in his hands where he was nailed to the tree, but also his side, where he, too, was wounded for our recreation.

Thanks be to God for Thomas, who was not there. He did not believe his friends, and demanded that he be able to put his finger in Jesus' hands, and put his hand in Jesus' side. He wants to touch, so that he knows for himself. So, a week later, on the next Sunday, again the disciples are gathered with the doors shut, and this time Thomas is with them. Jesus shows up, and this time Thomas believes: he sees the wounded side with his own eyes. Jesus includes us in the story when he says, "Blessed are those who believe, yet have not seen." That's us, we haven't seen, and we're invited into this story anyway. 

Along with God's children, Adam and Eve, we may have a tendency to fear that God is watching us to catch us doing wrong. Eating the blessed fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, or to think of it another way: growing up from an age of innocence to an age of responsibility is a difficult journey. In the Easter Story, we see where we're headed on this journey. God is not looking to catch us being bad. In the Gospels, Jesus,  God Incarnate, is caught "being bad" by the external, earthly authorities, and receives punishment from humanity. He's the one who gets in trouble. It is God who's body is broken by humanity, instead of the human being broken in two by God. Instead of walking around and hiding it, as we often do, Jesus shows his body to us and says, "Look at my hands see the holes, look at my side, and see where I've been wounded like you." This is no punitive God: God has now walked with humanity, and overcome our greatest fear: death. Death is not the end, it is only a transformation. It's our recreation. 

We can identify our God because he's been broken. We can see the wound in his side, just like our own wounded side. When we gather here in this room, we are invited into a new garden that is not of innocence, but a transformed state: we bring all our knowledge, and all our wounds, and we are invited to eat the fruit of Christ's body from the tree of the cross. Eating this fruit provides passage into the new garden of the Kingdom of God where we become whole, one with God and one another. We find God ready to walk with us, and clean us up when we fall down, instead of seeking to get us in trouble. God brings healing and companionship and new life.