Sunday, April 11 - Honest Thomas

 This sermon was preached for the Second Sunday of Easter, April 11 for a joint online service for St. Andrew's, Wellesley and St. Michael's, Holliston. The texts for this sermon were: Acts 4:32-35, 1 John 1:1-2:2, John 20:19-31, and Psalm 133.

Over the course of Lent, Episcopalians voted March Madness bracket-style on the saint of the year in the annual “Lenten Madness” contest. This year, Absalom Jones, the first African-American Episcopal priest, won the Golden Halo – a good and righteous choice, for sure. But if I had to pick a saint for this moment we are in right now, I think I’d go with St. Thomas, the star of our Gospel story today.

Thomas is left out of Jesus’ resurrection appearance to the disciples in the locked room that first Sunday. When the disciples come to him with what they saw and heard, Thomas responds with his own demand. He tells them, here’s what I need to believe that you say. Your story isn’t enough for me. I need to be in the presence of the person of Jesus. I need to see his resurrected body – and more than that – I need to touch his wounds.

That need for presence, for touch is so real to me right now. Thomas is all of us who have sorely missed the embodied experience of others in a year of virtual, distanced living. Thomas is every grandparent who’s gotten off a phone call with a grandchild and longed for the embrace of chubby little arms. Thomas is every friend who’s signed off a Zoom catch-up and thought: that wasn’t enough. Every parent who’s watched a child struggle through an online lesson with a breaking heart. Thomas is anyone who felt that it wasn’t really Maundy Thursday without washing a stranger’s foot, or Good Friday wasn’t Good Friday without feeling the rough wood of the cross, or Easter Easter without the fresh scent of the lilies wafting from the altar.

Thomas is every time we’ve thought this year: I need more than this.

I’m so unbelievably lucky to be serving one and now two parishes defined by gratitude, two churches filled with parishioners who are quick to express their appreciation to the leaders, volunteers, and staff for all our varied efforts to be church this year. There’s one thing I’ve heard a lot in these last months from you – but also from myself, from my family, my social circle. Someone will be reflecting on a particular experience or offering and they’ll say, “I didn’t know I needed that” or “I didn’t know how much I needed this.”

It can be hard to admit to ourselves, and to God, what we truly need to feel connected and sustained in faith and community. If I had to guess, it’s because not acknowledging our disappointments and dissatisfactions is precisely what enables us get through the day. And that can be a very helpful thing to do.

But I want us to notice how God responds to Thomas speaking out his needs.

Jesus shows up. Jesus turns to Thomas and says here, here are my hands and sides for you to touch. Thomas had the courage to say, God, this is what I need and Jesus comes through.

Of course, Jesus also has a message of encouragement for those who have struggled through and stuck with and maybe even grew spiritually in this time: Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. Blessed are you when you tuned into virtual church anyway, when you keep at the Zoom catch-ups with friends, and when you preserved through work from home frustrations.

And Jesus still comes through for the one who wasn’t there, the one who needed more.

Notice, too, how the community responds to Thomas.

Thomas is welcome and invited to the disciples’ next gathering. He’s still one of them. They don’t let his doubts or demands get in the way of his belonging – or his seeking for Christ. Thomas shows up, even when his community hasn’t been enough.

And in the beautiful vision of the early church from the Acts of the Apostles, it’s the community who meets the needs of their members. The writer of Acts reports, there was not a needy person among them for the gifts and abundance of the community were distributed to each as any had need.

In order for that Acts vision to work, the people in the community have to choose to open about the gifts they have in abundance and to be honest about their needs. It requires Thomas’ courage and Thomas’ trust that needs will be heard and met.

I am grateful for those of you who’ve come to me and said that the way life is right now, the weird way we’re able to be church, or the artificial way we must be parents, children, friends, and family – this is not enough. It’s let me say, me too.

Father James Martin writes that most of our lives are spent in Holy Saturday in between the devastation of Good Friday and the awesome joy of Easter Sunday. We are in Easter, still, technically, for more than 40 more days to come. But we are also still in waiting for the present, touchable world of worship and relationship to be returned to us. For Martin, there are many kinds of waiting. The wait of the Christian, he writes, is called hope. Hope is the trust that Jesus has heard our needs. That Jesus, and our communities, will come through to meet them.  

Thank you for every time you’ve had the courage to bring your needs to God, to your community. Thank you for your hope and for your trust. You are heard, you are held, you are not alone.