Gospel: John 20:19-31
Those gathered in the house didn’t wait long to see the risen Lord. Earlier that afternoon Mary Magdalene had been there to tell them she’d seen and talked with him and to share his message with them. Now, later that same evening, he himself was with them, sharing his blessing and the gift of the Spirit and seeing their joy at his rising.
Everyone saw and heard him for themselves – everyone, that is, except Thomas. For some reason Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus appeared. Perhaps he was on an errand, or perhaps as a part of wrestling with his own grief it was a need for solitude that kept him away. Regardless, it was only later – minutes, or hours, or perhaps days later, but later nonetheless – that he showed up and heard a remarkable story. “We have seen the Lord,” he heard them say, and then maybe his own inner voice spoke an accusation to him. They saw him, and you didn’t. You missed him. No matter: Thomas wanted to see the wounds and touch them for himself. Only then would he accept what had happened.
A week after his appearance on that Easter evening Jesus returned, and this time Thomas was present. What had those days been like for Thomas, long days of wondering about what his fellow disciples had experienced? Even though he’d said he needed visible proof to match the story they’d shared, a statement made with a touch of bravado to reassure himself, how much disappointment had magnified what was grief at first and later transitioned into confusion?
How much disappointment do we feel when there’s a sense we’ve missed a moment with God?
These past several days I’ve tried to imagine what it would be like to walk in Thomas’ shoes in that week. I’ve tried to imagine what it would have been like to miss Jesus’ appearance and then have to wait for him to return … and wait … and wait. Out of all these considerations two main areas of focus arose, two questions for us to consider: What do we do while we’re waiting, and what do we do when a new opportunity presents itself?
Last week Amy and I watched an outstanding new three-part documentary on Henry David Thoreau, a man whose life and work has always fascinated me. Over the years I’ve read a few biographies about him and excerpts from his rich writing, but there’s a wonderful new perspective that’s always presented when someone’s life is made more real in the right combination of words, music, and images. In the aftermath of the final episode I pulled a volume of his journals off the shelf and read this entry, from Christmas Eve 1841: “I want to go soon and live away by the pond, where I shall hear only the wind whispering among the reeds.”[1] Despite feeling that strong nudge, it was more than three years before he moved into the little hut by Walden Pond – but it wasn’t wasted time. Even with no immediate move, he continued to write; he continued to observe; he continued to reflect. If there was an anxiousness about wanting to begin life in the woods sooner, he didn’t reveal it. The space any anxiety would have taken up was instead filled with other activities and the joy and wonder of experiencing the natural world.
What did Thomas do before Jesus appeared in the house for a second time? The massive gap between verses 25 and 26 provides no answer. As I said earlier, I don’t doubt he experienced disappointment, grief, and confusion, but the time between could have been valuable. Perhaps he continued to observe and reflect. Maybe he thought a great deal about all he’d experienced in his travels with Jesus and the other disciples over the previous three years. I’d like to think that at some point the words and joy of the disciples in what they’d shared with him broke through his inner darkness and revealed a glimmer of light – and hope – for the road ahead.
As we know, after patiently waiting for a few more years Thoreau did make his move, living for two years, two months, and two days in a spot that provided even deeper and more meaningful opportunities for writing, observing, and reflecting. When the opportunity presented itself, he took full advantage. After his own period of waiting, Thomas was provided with an even deeper and more meaningful opportunity for his own growth. It was a moment and interaction with one who had lost his life and been resurrected and who now stood before him in a way that brought new power to Thomas’ life. From disappointment sprang reward; from confusion arose clarity; from grief erupted joy.
This passage from John holds a rich variety of ideas to consider and paths down which we can journey. Today though I invite you to hold tightly to the questions I’ve raised, questions about what we do when we feel like we’ve missed a holy moment, what we do in the interim times, and what we do when a new moment arises. We can certainly take a few early answers from this scene with Thomas. The gap in the story matches the silent interim period for Thomas, but we can use our own experiences to make an educated – and personal – guess. He felt he had missed Jesus, but Jesus came back for him. When the new moment arrived on the Sunday after Easter, Thomas embraced the gift of a second chance with relief and joy.
I think that most importantly of all, the example of Jesus coming back to Thomas is a powerful sign that God will not abandon us. We may miss sacred moments or holy encounters, but God will return – and really, God never leaves. Jesus may not have been in the room with Thomas and the disciples, but he was with them. Similarly we may not sense God’s presence or experience God in a visible way we’re seeking or desiring, but God is with us. And always the words Jesus shares with Thomas are relevant for us whether God is tangible or not, words intended to reinforce our faith.
Blessed are those who have not yet seen and yet have come to believe.
Amen.
[1] Henry David Thoreau. The Journal: 1837-1861, p. 20.