Second Sunday of Easter, cycle A

John 20:19-31

Every year on the second Sunday of the Easter Season, the Sunday we now call Mercy Sunday, we hear the story of Saint Thomas the Apostle, who will be known for all ages as “doubting Thomas”.  And the implication is that it’s wrong to doubt, or at least a sign of weakness.  Great Saints don’t doubt, do they?  When we read about their lives they always seem to have such certainty.  Those martyrs knew that after a brief moment in time they would be forever in heaven with Jesus.  They went to their deaths singing hymns.  

There was one martyr -- I'm sure more than one, but this one I read about many years ago. All we know about this Chinese layman was that during the persecutions of Christians during the 19th century, he and many of his fellow Christians were taken before a magistrate and given the choice -- either renounce Christianity or be strangled.  A few of them did; the rest held fast.  And as they were strangled one by one, one of those who had renounced the faith stepped forward and said that he could not renounce his faith, not really.  And he went on to be strangled to death.  

We know that this man, declared a saint by John Paul II, doubted.  And unless there was some sort of miracle, his doubt before and after his decision was probably not changed.  But what happened was that in spite of his doubt he acted on his faith.  

I think that’s the most beautiful kind of faith, the faith that springs from the edges of doubt. The faith that is the result of conscious decision in which I say, honestly, I cannot say whether I truly believe in this or that truth, but I am going to live as though it is true, and not look back, even if it costs me my life.  The theologian Paul Tillich said that doubt is not the opposite of true faith; it is a component.  Because if you do not recognize the doubt at the edges of your faith, it isn’t really faith that you have, it’s certainty, and certainly requires no struggle, no commitment.  If I know that something is inevitable I can’t do anything about it.  If I learn that the Russians are about to bomb Longmeadow, I can run but I can’t hide.  If I know (I am going to heaven, like some of our protestant brothers and sisters know, what effort do I need to make?  My salvation is assured.  And that’s even an attraction of atheism; if I am certain that there is no god, no afterlife, then what do I really need to do?  Do I need to work for a better future, for peace in the world, for the end to the slaughter of unborn babies?  For an atheist, nothing really matters because there is no ultimate concern.  

So real faith has to have doubt around the edges, because real faith leads us more deeply into the mystery of our ultimate concern, the mystery of our relationship with God.  Real faith means that we are pushing forward, committing ourselves, and we do this despite doubt.  

Thomas’ real fault was not that he doubted, but that he demanded certainty.  “I will not believe,” he said, unless I put my fingers in the wounds of his hands and my hand in his side.”  I must have certainty, as certain about the resurrection as I am that two and two are four, then I will believe.``  

But there is another important lesson we can learn from this gospel passage.  It is that faith is meant to be spread by the witness of those who have faith.  Thomas was supposed to believe because his brother apostles claimed to have witnessed something.  It’s true that Jesus forgave Thomas just as he had forgiven Peter and the others for their betrayal and desertion, just as he forgives us for our failures.  But notice that Jesus does not commend Thomas for his doubt.  He tells him, “You believe because you have seen. Blessed are those who have not seen, but have believed.”  Thomas does not receive the blessing that Jesus offers you and I, who have not seen but believe.

If you read the stories of the patriarchs, of Moses, of King David, you meet people who are friends of God, to the point of being able to speak with him.  And they have faith of course, but they have doubts about God keeping his promises.  And God never rejects them.  He continues to do what he says he will do.  So don’t deny your doubts.  Recognize them.  And then you can grow.  And remember that faith is spread by those who have faith.  This means that we have to practice the act of belonging - to our faith community, to our professional association, to our service organization.  Because how else can our associates know about Christ?  We also must practice humility and respect.  We have to constantly remind ourselves that the people we interact with are the very people Jesus died for, that God made in his image.  And we have to practice conversation and polite disagreement.  Conversation only with those who agree doesn’t help much.  And conversation that does not respect the honest differences of opinion will not bring anyone closer to Christ.

So today let’s recommit ourselves to being missionaries, and let us look at our doubts as  opportunities to deepen our faith, to point us to the commitment God calls us to make.  

Third Sunday of Easter, cycle A

Luke 24:13-35

The gospel story you have just heard is one that resonates with most of us.  You have two disciples -- I like to think they are a married couple.  In Matthew there is a reference to a Mary, the wife of Clopas, which is close enough to Cleopas mentioned in this story.  It says they are disciples.  They’ve been part of the Jesus movement, they’ve witnessed his miracles, they’ve heard him teach, they have been captured by his charisma, enough so that they do whatever they can to be near him, to follow in his footsteps.  And then this miracle worker, this man who seems to be the Messiah every one is expecting, is suddenly condemned and put to death, by the Romans, but with the full compliance of the Jewish authorities.  

I think most of us on our faith journey go through periods where we wonder if it's all a myth, whether I’m wasting my time.  The death of the Messiah is sort of like the priests who are found to have abused children, the seeming crimes church leaders have committed against indigenous people -- and every time they take a poll they find fewer and fewer people believe or even want to believe.  Some countries which were bastions of Christianity now have maybe ten percent of their populations who are active Christians, and in some of these countries, the number of active Muslims will soon overwhelm the Christians.  They have put our Messiah to death. 

But it’s not the first time.  When you read about saints, one characteristic you see over and over again is that they are reformers.  You have popes who reformed, you have saints who have reformed popes.  You have heresies that nearly wiped out orthodox Christianity.  The whole history of Christianity is one of seeming failure followed by reform and rebuilding.  And we shouldn’t be surprised; it’s the story of the Old Testament as well.  

Notice that our disciples are going over the things that are happening, that have happened, the reasons for their loss of hope.  And into this steps Jesus, who tells them that all this was predicted, it was there in the word of God.  And Jesus to them is a stranger at this point.  But they will recall later that their hearts were “burning within them” when he opened the scriptures.  Did your heart ever “burn” within you?  I think we’ve all had the experience of suddenly understanding something that used to be mysterious.  It happens a lot on college campuses and when people learn a trade.  And it happens when you sit down seriously with scripture, listening for God to speak to you.  As the Emmaus disciples were to learn, when our hearts burn within us, the Lord is close. 

Finally Jesus reveals himself in the breaking of the bread.  Notice the structure.  Doesn’t this remind you of the Mass?  You hear the scriptures, you have them explained, and you participate in the breaking of the bread, and Jesus becomes present.  We reenact Emmaus every time we attend our liturgy.  And of course when Jesus is no longer present, the disciples find themselves on mission.  They are no longer afraid, they realize that if  someone is going to announce to the world this remarkable fact, this resurrection from the dead of the Messiah, it will be them.  So they get up and rush back to the apostles to tell them what they experienced.  Kind of like we are supposed to do once we’ve encountered the risen Christ in the breaking of the bread during our Mass.  

Is the church failing in its mission?  By almost any measurement, it is -- in some parts of the world, while in others the Church is doing quite well.  But where it is failing, that’s our fault, we are the Church, we have a treasure to share with the world, we have the assurance of Jesus himself that if we speak up he will speak for us before the Father; but if we deny him, he will deny us.  And we deny him when we keep silent.  I”m old enough to remember a time -- after Vatican II, when our country was inflamed with religious fervor, among Catholics as well as Protestants and Jews. We had all caught fire; there was the Charismatic movement; there was the founding of small colleges and other educational institutions under the Christian banner.  There were evangelists on television on Sunday morning, people who had a wide following as they talked about the Gospel.  And it wasn’t the first time.  When I was growing up there was Bishop Sheen, who commanded a huge television audience of people of all denominations.  I met a rabbi once who said he attributed his vocation to watching Bishop Sheen, not because he agreed with him, but the enthusiasm of the Bishop for his faith rubbed off on him.  And there were other times when faith would flare up.  It’s time it happened again.  And like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, Jesus is there to help us if we leave this supper and tell the world of our own experience.