A New Reality [Easter 2A - John 20:19-31]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
John 20:19-31
A New Reality
It was not hard to identify the moment in which life changed
for the remaining eleven. It was, of
course, Friday. On Friday, just a few
days earlier, a few short days before our Gospel story takes place, they
watched, from a distance, as Jesus was executed. That harsh, abrasive sound of hammered metal
echoed through their minds still. The
image of his dying body was burned into their memories. The sounds of his last gasps for air were the
stuff of their nightmares.
As Jesus died, so did their dreams, so did the triumphant future
which they so surely expected. They had
imagined his fame and popular appeal might translate into a royal throne. Everything they had seen –from the divine
encounter on the mount of Transfiguration to the feeding of the masses, the way
he could heal the sick and his power to calm even the turbulent waters –
suggested that they had hitched themselves to a rising star. They used to daydream about palaces and
exalted titles. But then Good Friday
happened.
It was true that he sometimes rubbed important people the
wrong way. Occasionally, Jesus said
things that made even his closest allies cringe. But generally, it seemed that for every
religious leader he offended he gained a dozen new followers. And even though the religious leaders got
worked up in his presence, also they seemed to almost enjoy engaging with him.
It just escalated so quickly.
One night, they were eating dinner together, singing hymns, laughing at
inside jokes, reminiscing. The next day
it was all over. From that dinner to the
garden to say some prayers, but prior to a concluding “amen” Jesus was arrested
and before dinner the next day, on Friday, he was dead. Everything in their lives turned as dark as
the sky above the cross, as dark as the space inside the tomb. It was not hard to identify the moment in
which life changed for the remaining eleven.
It was, of course, Friday.
If it could happen to Jesus, to the man who walked on the
Galilean Sea, they reckoned it could happen to anyone; it could happen to
them. And so they locked the door. Because the death penalty was no longer a far-fetched
hypothetical. They watched it
happen. To their leader. To their friend. Probably, they thought, they were next.
Jesus had spoken about his death while they were together –
even about rising from the dead. But one
does not take such talk literally; surely the disciples thought Jesus was spinning
yet another spiritual riddle. Because dead
people do not come back from the dead days later. Crucified men do not reemerge from their sealed
tombs. And certainly they do not apparate
into the dining rooms of locked homes to visit their friends. It was no wonder Thomas was skeptical.
It was Easter evening when Jesus appeared to his disciples
and Thomas was out. I used to think that
meant Thomas was brave; he was the only one who was not afraid. And maybe that is the case. But this year, given the strange
circumstances of our lives, I wonder if Thomas was maybe just more willing to accept
their new reality – to leave the past behind, with its dreams of grandeur, and live
into this new Good Friday world.
I imagine he was frustrated that his friends seemed unable to
accept that life had changed. While he
was out, trying to pick up the pieces of his life, they were locked up, claiming
to have visited with a dead man. It is not
difficult to see why Thomas was skeptical.
Perhaps his lack of belief was really just a mixture of irritation and
sadness at what clearly seemed to be their denial of something that he had
witnessed with his own eyes just a few days earlier.
We might name Thomas Doubting Thomas, but if anything, Thomas
is realistic. What he doubts is the
testimony of his grief-stricken friends because their claim is very much impossible
to believe.
Until, that is, this realist meets the Risen Christ the
following Sunday. This time Thomas is
with the other ten – perhaps because he is worried about them. And Jesus shows up. And once again, Thomas is able to accept that,
for the second time in ten days, the world, his world, has forever
changed. He was able to accept the devastation
of Good Friday; and the moment he encountered the Risen Christ, he is able to
accept immediately the Easter reality.
Thomas is a man who lived very much in the present moment; he
held the center in the midst of chaos. And
in these uncertain days, his is a powerful example for us, for the Church. Thomas came to understand rather quickly that
the future is open and the past fleeting.
When Jesus introduced to him the new Easter reality, Thomas left the
Good Friday world behind and stepped boldly into unventured territory – into a new
world previously unimagined.
I believe the pandemic currently inflicting our globe has
reminded us, rather pointedly, that the future is unpredictable and the past
less reliable than we care to admit.
That too is the message of Easter. The Easter journey is not from doubt to faith,
but, as David Lose says, “from one reality to a new one.”[1] Our Easter God is in the business of calling
forth life from death, love from pain, good from ill; our God is in the
business of making new those things that have grown old. Our God has an Easter answer to every Good
Friday. Could it be that our Easter God
might be even now dreaming of a new future, for us and for our world? Might it be possible that we emerge from our
homes into a new reality – leaving behind those things that once left our souls
empty and our world in the throes of death?
Might God even now be dreaming for us a new dream?
One day we will unlock our doors and venture out into a world
of possibility. And though the details
are still blurry, we know that life after this will never be the same. And while there is grief in that admission,
there is also grace; while some things will pass away, we worship a God of resurrection
– who is always and forever making all things new. The future is open before us – waiting to be
re-built, re-born, re-imagined. And we
are the ones called to dream those dreams, called to dream the dreams of God into that open
space.
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