Trust

Easter is not just a day; it's a fifty-day season. It begins at the empty tomb. But that is not "proof" beyond a shadow of doubt that God raised Jesus from the dead. There are clearly other possibilities for a missing corpse. Rather, the empty tomb marks a new beginning of a long journey that goes way beyond these fifty days. We walk by faith. But as we do that, along the way there is evidence to go on that the corpse was not stolen, but that Christ is alive and meeting us in the midst of life. The readings for the Second Sunday of Easter can be found here. The gospel appointed comes from the twentieth chapter of John.

It was still Easter Sunday—later that same night. The disciples were together and the doors  were locked, because they were afraid of the religious authorities. 

Jesus came, and stood among them. “Shalom be with you,” he said. And then he showed them his hands, and his side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw him. He said again: “Shalom be with you! As my Abba sent me, so I now send you.”  And with that, he breathed on them, saying: “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive another person's sins, they are forgiven. If you hold onto another person's sins, they are held fast.”

Now one of the twelve, Thomas, (the one called Didymus which means the twin) was not with them when Jesus came. And the others kept telling him, “we’ve seen the Lord!” But he said to them: “unless I examine the marks of the nails on his hands, and put my finger into the place where the nails were, and my hand in his side, I will not trust you.” 

A week later they were in the house again. This time, Thomas was with them. Again, the doors were locked, and again, Jesus came and stood among them, saying: “Shalom be with you!” Then he turned to Thomas, and said: “put your finger here, and look at my hands. Reach your hand here, and put it into my side. Let go of your mistrust; only trust!” 

Then Thomas answered him: “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said: “have you trusted because you have seen me? Happy are those who trust without seeing me!” 

Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of the disciples that are not recorded in this book. These are written down so that you may trust that Jesus is the messiah, the Son of God—so that trusting him, you may have life in his name.

You will not find the translation above on-line; it is my own. To be perfectly honest, it's more like a paraphrase than a literal translation; my own attempt to channel my inner Eugene Peterson. The paraphrase depends, however, on a quite literal translation of the Greek word, pistis. It is offered here primarily to be very clear that pistis and apistis (which appear six times) are not about belief and doubt in an intellectual way. Rather, they are about trust and a lack of trust. 

Getting clear on this distinction changes the whole tenor of what preachers might say this coming Sunday, which is not about a disciple who "doubts" his faith in an intellectual way, but is rather about a disciple who is learning to trust again, with God's help. Questions (and articulating what we need) reveal a path forward toward trust, which is a crucial (and maybe the crucial) first step in the journey of faith. 

Unfortunately too many of the lessons drawn from this gospel reading in Bible studies and sermons about “doubting Thomas” are not very helpful and can even be dangerous to your spiritual health! The root of the problem has to do with how we understand “belief” and “doubt.” From the time of Descartes, the Enlightenment has had a huge influence on western Christianity. Whether we grew up Catholic, Protestant, or somewhere in the middle, many of us have been taught to think about belief in terms of the content of our faith. In this way of seeing the world, “faith” became a synonym for either our acceptance or rejection of various Church doctrines: the Creed for example, or what the Church teaches about the Trinity, or the Resurrection, or the Virgin Birth, or moral questions.  Sometimes we have gotten the message from this story (whether it is explicit or implicit) that we should not be “doubting Thomases…but should only believe.” I think that's just wrong.

What has happened is that over many decades and even centuries, what we think of as the “traditional” reading of this story about “doubting Thomas” can lead us to conclude that the Church isn’t a place for “doubters” or their questions. The problem with that goes deeper than simply excluding inquisitive types from the Church. If we teach people that “faith” is about “right belief” (and then when people aren’t sure about what they believe on every matter of doctrine we tell them “don’t doubt, just believe”) we end up with, at best, passive Christians. Worse still, compartmentalized ones who can't figure out how to connect what they know about science and history and literature with their faith. Worst of all, members of the Church Alumni Association. 

I think that’s a subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) form of manipulation and coercion that has very little to do with authentic Christian faith, however. I’d go even further. I think from the perspective of Biblical faith, it is a form of idolatry that leaves us more golden calves than we know what to do with. So I want to challenge that so-called "traditional" reading of the story and suggest that the deeper and truer meaning lies within the story itself, waiting for us to rediscover it and to hear it with fresh ears each year. And that as we journey through our second Easter Season in a time of pandemic, unlocking this meaning is even more important than ever. 

It is more than a little ironic to me that in so many sermons on Thomas he is disparaged, because that clearly isn’t what the text says. Jesus does not disparage or ridicule Thomas. Look again at the text - and don't trust my paraphrase! Jesus meets Thomas where he is and invites him to do what he needs to do to come to a deeper understanding of the resurrection. I think we are invited to hear this text anew on this Second Sunday of Easter and not to disparage Thomas but to see his example by way of encouragement. Like all the saints, Thomas is an example for us to follow "in all virtuous and godly living." Like the other resurrection stories, this one reveals the way toward Easter-faith. That is not about the removal of all doubt. It is about learning to put our whole trust in the living God. 

This key to this alternative reading becomes possible when we remember that the Greek word pistis is really about trust. And again, you don't need to trust me on this. I'm not really arguing with the translators who decided on faith; rather I'm suggesting that our truncation of "faith" as antithetical to doubt is the heart of the problem here. To say it another way, the opposite of faith is not doubt, but fear. 

So notice that is precisely what is going on in this story: when it begins the disciples are locked away in fear. They are afraid that the powers-that-be are going to come and do the same thing to them as was done to Jesus: arrest them and beat them and execute them. They are afraid that they will die at the hands of Roman imperial power as their leader has. Yet at the end of the story, faith (that is trust) has cast out fear, allowing the disciples (including Thomas) to be empowered by the Spirit to continue the work that Jesus began. 

Pistis is about trust and even more specifically about where we place our trust. Do we trust Caesar or God? Are we yet able to trust one another in the community that bears Jesus’ name? Do we trust that we are made in the image of God and that in the resurrection that imago dei is restored, freeing us to trust our own best selves again? Jesus’ words to Thomas use both the negative and the positive form of pistis, that is: “Thomas, do not be untrusting; but learn to trust.” And I think that’s a word of good news for us.

Christian educators and psychologists of religion tell us that the first and most basic stage of faith development, foundational for all the rest, is to navigate trust issues. If a child learns to trust her parents, then she will move on to other challenges. And if that trust is violated or abused or lacking, then almost certainly the child will get stuck—perhaps even well into adulthood—until she can find ways to move beyond this impasse. It will leave a mark. That’s why all forms of abuse, especially in the Church, are so sinful and destructive. Not just sexual abuse, but all abuse of power. When clergy and Christian educators think they are infallible and squelch questions, they are involved in a process of indoctrination; not faith development. Ultimately when we speak about "safe church" in The Episcopal Church we are talking about more than avoiding clergy misconduct. We are trying to create safe spaces where our children and our children’s children can learn trust rather than fear: trust in God, trust in community, trust in self.

If Christian faith is in any way akin to being “born again” or “born from above” (I mean this in the Johannine sense) then it is the same way in Christian community: after birth comes growth. But the first stage of Easter faith is about learning to trust and from that fertile soil we can begin to grow into “the full stature of Christ.”

To be clear, I am not suggesting that doctrine doesn’t matter. What I am saying is that imposing our doctrines onto this text distorts it's deeper meaning. Faith here is not about believing a particular church doctrine. It really, really is, about trust. What I am saying is that I think St. Anselm had it exactly right: faith seeks understanding. Faith (that is, trust) comes first, just as it does in this story. It isn't the last word but it is the first word. Faith is about putting our trust in this Jesus whom death could not destroy. As we grow within a loving Christian community and listen together to Holy Scripture, and to the breadth and depth of the catholic tradition, and to our own wisdom and the wisdom of others that grows out of our experience and in our walk with Christ, we clarify our beliefs, which are always subject to modification and change as we continue to grow.  

At best, our beliefs point us toward God. But we should never confuse our beliefs about God with the true living, inscrutable God. When we do that, we are in danger of allowing our beliefs to become more important to us than God. The Bible has a word for that:  idolatry. A Church that insists on “right belief” as the requisite to life in Christ (and there are versions on the "left" as well as on the “right”) falls short of the mark. A Church that lists seventeen things you need to believe in order to walk through the doors and then labels some as “orthodox” and others as “revisionist” if someone questions numbers six, eleven, and thirteen is, quite frankly, not a Church that I have any interest in being a part of.  

The Church’s mission is to proclaim the good news of God’s love to all the world, and then to share with Christ in the ministry of reconciliation. That is what the collect for the Second Sunday of Easter makes so clear: 

Almighty and everlasting God, who in the Paschal mystery established the new covenant of reconciliation: Grant that all who have been reborn into the fellowship of Christ's Body may show forth in their lives what they profess by their faith; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

So here is the “good news” that I want to proclaim from the twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel on the second Sunday of Easter, after more than a year of being huddled away in our homes and feeling the isolation of a pandemic: we can work on trust issues, together. If you’ve ever been on a ropes courses, you know it is possible. In community, with companions who will support you and cheer you on, you can learn to do things you did not previously think you had within you. You might even risk falling from high places into outstretched arms that you trust will catch you. 

That, I believe, is the direction that this text means to point us toward. We must not be afraid to take risks in order to grow together. I love the story that some of the rabbis tell about the Exodus: that God did indeed part the Red Sea with Pharaoh’s army in hot pursuit, but only after the first Hebrew slave put her foot out and committed herself to that path. Like the Abraham story that is foundational for all Biblical faith, what is required on our side of the covenant is trust.

You may recall that in the fourteenth chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus is talking about how he will go to prepare a place for them, and he says to the disciples that they know the way to that place. Thomas is the one who dares to speak up: “Lord, excuse me…we don’t know where you are going, so how can we possibly know the way.” Jesus’ response to Thomas in that moment is not a weapon to be foisted on seekers, but a reminder to those who do put their trust in Jesus: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Keep your eyes on me, Jesus says, and you will get where you need to be.

So, too, in this post-Easter resurrection account from the twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel. Again, it is Thomas’ who is willing to express his uncertainty and to give voice to his confusion. And maybe to ours as well. Viewed in this way, Thomas is a person who calls us to live more fully into the meaning of our Baptismal Covenant by inviting us “to put our whole trust in Christ’s grace and love.”  Viewed in this way, faith is not passive acceptance, but active engagement. Thomas is not the doubter, but the truster who is not afraid to ask the tough questions in order to get where he needs to be.

In a larger sense, it seems to me that as we go through these fifty days of Easter, the goal is not about removing all doubt about what resurrection of the body means, for Jesus and for us, but rather about getting back on track and following on “the Way” with this Jesus, who is not dead in an empty tomb, but among the living in the world. 

Notice where the story ends: Thomas proclaims of Jesus, this crucified rabbi from Nazareth whom God has raised from the dead: “My Lord and my God.” That is a powerful witness of abiding trust. Not doubt. And one more thing. Notice where John's own theological reflection on this text takes us.

Jesus did lots of other stuff in the presence of the disciples that have not been recorded in any book. These are written down so that you may have trust—that you may trust that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God—and that trusting him, you may have life in his name.