SERMON FOR THE SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER, APRIL 19, 2020     TEXT: JOHN 20:19-31
     In an Easter sermon one of my favorite preachers* describes Jesus’ resurrection appearances as “recognition narratives.” The Gospel accounts offer consistent stories of initial confusion, unbelief and doubt. Matthew tells  us that the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And “when they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted”  (28:16-17). Mark writes, “But when they heard that he was alive and had been seen by [Mary Magdalene], they would not believe it. After this he appeared in another form to two of them, as they were walking into the country. And they went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them” (16:11-13). According to Luke, the women return from the empty tomb and tell the disciples of the announcement from the heavenly messengers, “He is not here, but has risen.”  “But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them” (24:5, 11). Even after hearing the experience of two of their company on the road to Emmaus, when the risen Lord made himself known to them in the breaking of the bread, the disciples remain uncertain. “While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you’ They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost” (Luke 24:36-37).
     In the Gospel of John we also find bewilderment and resistance among the ones Jesus leaves behind. Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb early on the first day of the week while it is still dark, and finds the stone removed from the entrance and the body gone. She runs back to Peter and the others and tells them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him” (20:2). She returns to the tomb, and this time when she looks inside she sees two angels sitting where the body had been. When they ask her why she is weeping, she repeats her lament, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 
     She turns to find Jesus himself standing there, but she does not recognize him, not until he speaks to her, not until he says her name. As Jesus has told his disciples earlier in John’s Gospel, the shepherd “calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice . . . . I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me” (10:3-4, 14). My favorite preacher has this to say about the moment of recognition outside of the tomb, when Jesus says to her, “Mary!” And she responds “Rabbouni!” (Teacher) — “Mary was convinced that the Lord was alive, not by seeing his body, but by hearing his word; and his word convinced her only as a wholly personal word addressed to her by name.”
     The Gospel of John offers another such recognition narrative, that of Thomas the Twin. He was not present with the other disciples when Jesus first appeared to them. He has not seen the Lord’s scarred hands as they did; he has not heard his word of blessing, “Peace be with you,” or shared in the gift of the Holy Spirit that Jesus breathed into them. John tells us that after her experience in the garden, Mary told the disciples, “I have seen the Lord” and delivered his message to them. “But go to my brothers,” he had commanded her, “and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God’” (20:17-18). Yet Jesus found them later that day hiding behind locked doors in fear of those who had conspired to kill him. They had not received Mary’s testimony with confidence and joy. She made a report; they needed to hear a word from Jesus for themselves. 
     Thomas, then, is just one of a company of doubters, and he asks no more in the way of convincing than Jesus has already freely given to the other disciples. Now Jesus comes to him also and speaks to him directly, “Do not doubt but believe.” In John’s Gospel believing is not a matter of getting your doctrine straight or sustaining unwavering conviction. Jesus urges his disciples to “abide in me as I abide in you” (John 15:4). Believing is being in relationship and holding on. Its opposite is not doubt; it is despair. 
     Thomas goes well beyond the others’ exultant “I have seen the Lord” to confess not what the eyes see but what the heart recognizes, “My Lord and my God!” It is the same for Thomas as it was for Mary, as it is for every follower of Jesus. As my favorite preacher puts it, “We are convinced that we are in the presence of the living God when his word comes home to us as if it had our name on it.”
     Thomas appears twice earlier in John’s Gospel. When Jesus announces his intention to return to Judea upon the death of Lazarus, the disciples try to dissuade him, knowing the trip would put him at serious risk. Still their teacher is insistent, and Thomas exhorts them to abide with Jesus, despite the uncertainty and danger. “Let us also go, that we may die with him,” he says (11:16). 
     Then in the last night of Jesus’ life Thomas speaks again. Jesus offers his disciples reassurance: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (14:1-6). 
     Thomas is forthright; he is both confused and committed. He can’t chart the way; he can’t see the ending. Yet he stays in the company of Jesus. Then death prevails; the ending is cruel, the disappointment bitter. And still Thomas abides. In the midst of things he cannot understand, certain grief and an uncertain future, he cries out for a sign, the assurance that Jesus is abiding too. And he hears a word with his name on it, a word that comes home to us as well, a word of challenge and hope. “Do not doubt but believe.” Amen.

*B.A. Gerrish, “Many Infallible Proofs” in The Pilgrim Road: Sermons on Christian Life, ed. Mary T. Stimming (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000) 45-51.