Electric Circuit Rider

Few stories in the gospels are as well known as the story of “doubting Thomas”. Elaine Pagels, in her book, Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas, suggests that the Gospel of John was trying to discredit the Gospel of Thomas by including this story.

I’m not so sure, because Thomas, in the end, believes – and he believes for the same reason John believes – because of what he has seen and touched. This story seems to be in keeping with the whole thrust of John’s gospel, which can be discerned, I think, in the story of Nicodemus, who does not understand what Jesus means by “born again”, even though Jesus says he’s talking about something that Nicodemus can see in the world around him.

John is an empiricist. He believes that in Jesus we have seen light and truth. But you haven’t seen Jesus, have you? The story of Thomas is there, in part, to tell us that people doubted the resurrection of Jesus, but then they saw him and were convinced. It’s a technique we see advertisers use: One housewife doubts that a particular laundry detergent could possibly be as good as another housewife says it is, but then she tries it, and lo-and-behold, her clothes really are cleaner and brighter than ever!

The “Doubting Thomas” technique is as old as the Bible and as new as a You Tube political ad.

And, frankly, it can be quite effective. If someone raises valid doubts and then is convinced, the doubter’s new conviction convinces us.

But that’s not all that’s going on in this passage. Thomas, like a lot of us, really does need to see for himself. The remarkable thing about Christianity is that it isn’t afraid of this particular challenge. The thing that a lot of people don’t get is that Christ really does come to those who doubt – to those who need to have a personal experience in order to believe.

I’ve had such experiences. Not a lot. I could count them on one hand and have a couple of fingers left over. In these experiences, I didn’t see anything, but you could no more convince me that I wasn’t in the presence of Christ on that day than you could convince me that I wasn’t standing next to my wife on our wedding day. I wouldn’t have to argue with you or defend my conviction that Jesus had come to me and touched me and spoken to me than I would have to argue my conviction that my wife took my hand as we walked down the aisle after saying our vows. If you don’t believe that happened – that’s your problem, not mine.

Some people envy that kind of spiritual experience. They shouldn’t. What I know from my experience is what Thomas learned from his. It wasn’t granted to me because I am some kind of saint. It was granted to me for the opposite reason. I’m the kind of hard-headed – and hard-hearted – person who would never believe any other way.

Yes, John is an empiricist. He says it is possible to “see and touch” the mystery of Christ, but those who believe in that mystery without seeing and touching know something that those of us who, like Thomas, can’t believe in any other way don’t know.

What is that? I’m not the person to ask.

If we are “commanded to preach to the people that Jesus Christ is the one ordained by God to judge the living and the dead”, then as much as we may not want to hear what Barack Obama’s pastor has to say, we need to ask, “is Wright wrong?”

Palm Sunday is slowly fading from view as a festival day in the church.  We’ve  noticed that most folks who show up at church on Palm Sunday and then again on Easter morning, don’t go to communion on Thursday night or the Tenebrae service on Good Friday. They jump from Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem to Resurrection morning, without ever hearing the story of what happened in between Sundays. Therefore, those of us who plan worship are increasingly focusing on the story of what did happen in between – especially the crucifixion of Jesus.

I trust, if you are reading this, however, that you do know and will meditate on the Passion Story.  Having said that, I hate to lose sight of Palm Sunday because it raises some important questions. One is, “how easily do I let my judgment get caught up in the hysteria of the crowd?”

The poet, William Carlos Williams, wrote the poem “The Crowd at the Ball Game”. It’s a pleasant picture of a crowd cheering for the home team on a summer afternoon. Then, the poem turns darker as Williams refers to the crowd’s power to become “venomous”.

The flashy female with her
mother, gets it-

And he concludes:

The crowd is

In our baptismal vows, we are called to resist the spiritual forces of wickedness and the evil powers of this world. One of those powers is the power of the crowd. It isn’t always evil. In fact, on Palm Sunday, it appears to be very good. But on Good Friday it isn’t.

Jesus worked with crowds, sometimes, but he never trusted them.  I admit, I love to see a great crowd of people show up on Easter morning, but I trust the handful of folks who come out on Friday night a whole lot more.

Listen this week to the voices of the crowd and then listen to the voice in you that tells you the truth. Is the voice of truth and the voice of the crowd saying the same thing?

It’s the eve of Primary Day in Ohio , as I write this.

It was so appropriate that, this past Sunday morning, we heard the story in 1 Samuel 16 about how Samuel came to Bethlehem (about 1000 years before Jesus was born there) looking for a new king for Israel . God had told him that the new king would be one of the sons of a man named Jesse.

Samuel looked up Jesse and invited Jesse to dinner and told him to bring all of his sons. As the boys came in, the first-born was a tall, good-looking, smart guy who looked like he would make a wonderful king. But God whispered in Samuel’s ear, “Don’t judge by appearances. I look at the heart.”

The second son also looked every inch a king, but God whispered the same words in Samuel’s ear.

The same for the third son, the fourth . . . right through number seven. But, God never gave the thumbs up to any of them.

Samuel asked Jesse if he had any more sons. Jesse said, “Yes, there’s the little one, David, but he’s out tending the sheep. You want to see him?”

Samuel said they wouldn’t start dinner without him, so they brought David in as fast as possible. Samuel looked at the boy and God said that this was the one God had chosen.

As I read this with campaign ads blaring in the background, I was struck by the fact that six months ago, we had a field full of presidential candidates, most of whom looked like all the other presidents we ever had: middle-aged white men. Even Dennis Kucinich, who used to be my congressman when I lived in his district, looks a little like James Madison complete with his own “Dolly”.

But now, in Ohio , we are down to three candidates: one of whom isn’t middle-aged, one who isn’t white, and one who isn’t a man.

I’d like to think – and I think a lot of Americans would like to think – that just maybe we are moving beyond appearances in choosing our leaders. After all, the President who most looked the part was probably Warren G. Harding. Except for some really die-hard party-loyalists, male chauvinists and racists, most of the people I know are pretty pleased with the way the field got narrowed down and could live with any of the final three who will finally be elected in November. That’s partly because most people sense that each of these candidates has a basic integrity – a good heart.

That’s not to say that any of them are perfect, and I am troubled by the demand that somehow a President should be perfect – or even consistent. We’ve got consistency now and I’m not running into a lot of people who are happy with the fact that, as Stephen Colbert says, “Our President believes the same thing on Wednesday that he did on Monday, no matter what happens on Tuesday.”

I don’t for a moment imagine that the general election campaign will be free of smears and dirty politics, but I am hopeful that for the first time in a long time, we’ll be able to vote for someone rather than against someone.

The church I went to as soon as I graduated from seminary was a nightmare. My predecessor had engaged in what is now called “sexual misconduct”. I won’t tell you what the D.S. called it, but he didn’t mince words when he said I was being appointed there. The congregation had dropped from full pews to empty seats. Naturally, they assumed that the new young pastor with the pretty wife and new baby would make everything better. Naturally, I didn’t. The church struggled for a couple of years, but by years three and four, it began to turn around.

One Sunday, during the fourth year, I spotted a young man in his 20’s who was visiting and I made a point of chatting with him after the service. He told me that he had visited the church two years earlier and had never come back. The place, he said, was cold and dead. But he had, for some reason, decided to give us another chance. He said with some wonder in his voice, “It’s a different place”.

When we read about Ezekiel reviving dry bones with his preaching and prophesying or we hear Paul say “set your mind on the Spirit”, we have the impression that they are talking about a realm that only mystics and miracle workers ever visit. In fact, they are talking about stuff that we live with everyday. It’s the “atmosphere” or the “culture” or the “personality” of the organization or business you work for, the community you live in, the church you worship in, and the home you make with your family. You can often sense this “spirit” as soon as you walk in the door. There are workplaces that are seething with anger or cringing in fear. There are others that feel “up” and happy. There are communities torn apart with tensions and others where people work together for the common good.

Just before I wrote this, I was going over a list of visitors who have come to our church recently – and come back. There are a number of reasons for why this list is growing longer, but one of them, I believe, is because of a subtle shift in the “spirit” of our church. It’s not that any of us, as individuals, have changed a great deal. People are about as friendly and welcoming as ever; my sermons are just as long, but something has changed. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Perhaps we are a little less afraid, a little less pessimistic, a little less blaming, a little less discouraged. It’s funny how, when we get a “little less” of these, we get a little more of holy spirit, wholesome spirit, whole spirit – all of it the work of the Holy Spirit.

Miracles, even resurrections, may be happening around you. Keep your eyes open and watch for them.