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Mel Williams
HONEST DOUBT
John 20: 19-31
a sermon by Mel Williams
Watts Street Baptist Church
March 30, 2008 (Easter 2)
Today is the Sunday after Easter, sometimes known as "Low Sunday." When you’ve been on the mountaintop, you have to come back down. Last week we trudged up the mountain of Holy Week: the Maundy Thursday singing of Bach’s "St Matthew Passion" with Communion, and then the Good Friday Tenebrae service, where we sat here in total darkness absorbing the pain of Jesus’ death. Last Sunday we stood on Easter Mountain, covering the old cross with flowers, children ringing tiny alleluia bells, then celebrating the baptism of ten new members, ending with all of us singing the Hallelujah Chorus. It doesn’t get much better than that! We left here exhilarated with Easter energy, bounding out of the church with the full intention of being resurrection people, Easter people.
Then on Monday we headed back to regular life. Back to chores, tasks, income tax, a vigil for Abighit Mahato, the Duke student murdered some weeks ago, Presidential campaigning intensifying, and passing the milestone 4000 Americans killed in Iraq along with 100,000 Iraqis, with no sign of an end to this war. We’re back in the flatlands. We come back to church today; and with less energy in our voices, we still declare, "The Lord is risen indeed." It’s still Easter—the season lasts for 50 days. And today on Low Sunday, wouldn’t you know it!—the text assigned to us is the story of Thomas, called "Doubting Thomas."
It fits, doesn’t it? We’ve been given a text for Low Sunday in the flatlands! Of course we’d rather stay up on Easter Mountain, but Thomas brings us back to reality. He’s the show-me disciple. "I’m not going to believe he’s risen until I can touch his hands and side." The other disciples have seen Jesus, and they believe. But not Thomas. He’s the maverick, the practical one. He’s not going to celebrate until he has proof that Jesus is resurrected.
We’ve called him "Doubting Thomas," but it’s an unfortunate title. The adjective has a tone of blame and judgment. We may still call Thomas a doubter, but that may be too strong a word. What about "Honest Thomas," or "Practical Thomas," or "Thinking Thomas"? He was indeed an independent thinker; he had a healthy skepticism; he asked questions. He was unwilling to go along with the crowd. I think Thomas may have been a Baptist!
I once had a church member in my former church who said, "Whatever the issue we’re voting on, if everyone is for it, I’m gonna vote against it, just to remind everybody here that that we’re Baptists." That is, we must protect our cherished right of dissent. It’s the Baptist way.
Baptists have always stood for freedom to raise questions, to struggle, to dissent. That’s why I think Thomas was a Baptist and didn’t know it.
To understand Christian community, through a Baptist lens, we have to talk about openness and freedom. Thomas felt the freedom to ask honest questions. Jesus provided the climate where Thomas’ questions were honored. That’s one of the qualities of Jesus that’s refreshing and revolutionary. Jesus did not insist on lock-step conformity from his disciples. He gave room for differences and questions. He created a climate of openness and freedom.
One minister I know said, "Our goal as a church is to include those people Jesus included and to exclude those Jesus excluded." That’s good theology and good church practice. It is the practice of this church to include those people Jesus included and to exclude those he excluded. He welcomed those who were different, those who were skeptics, those who had questions and doubts.
At Watts Street Baptist Church I hope we always take our cues from Jesus. We need to be welcoming all kinds of people, including the doubters, the questioners, and the dissenters.
Jesus’ inclusive spirit helps us to shape our community with the same openness he lived. We want to be part of an open community, where questions are welcome. In this church, we might even say that we want a faith community where questions are more important than answers. As the poet Rilke said, our job is to "love the questions and live our way into the answers."
Thomas loved the questions. He wanted a direct, personal experience with the risen Jesus. He didn’t want to believe just because someone else told him to believe. He wanted to make sure that he could reach out and touch the nail prints in Jesus’ hands and the wounds in his side. He wanted a direct experience of faith in the risen Lord.
Thomas speaks for all of us. He’s honest, bold, and forthright. He’s not going along with the crowd. He’s deliberate. He thinks for himself. I believe Thomas would be at home in this church! To newcomers at Watts Street I have often described our church this way: "This is a place where you can think out loud what you are coming to believe." This is a place where there is freedom for you to ask questions, struggle with faith dilemmas, and come to your own direct experience of Jesus’ presence in your life.
By asking to touch Jesus’ hands and side, I don’t think Thomas was standing outside the faith. I think he was being honest Thomas. He was being true to himself. If he was doubting, it was all a part of his faith. He was living out the wisdom from Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds." (from "In Memorium") Frederick Buechner has said that doubt motivates our faith. As he playfully put it: "Doubt is the ants in the pants of faith." (See Wishful Thinking)
How does Thomas help us today? He gives us permission to be honest. He gives us permission to use our intelligence, to come to faith with both intellect and emotion. He tells us, "Don’t check your mind at the church door." He gives us permission to raise questions about Jesus’ presence with us, and his presence in the world.
In this encounter with Jesus, did you notice the first words that Jesus said to Thomas and the other disciples? "Peace be with you." It was a greeting, yes, and we might brush it aside as unimportant. But "Peace be with you" indicates that peace is a clear focus of Jesus’ mission. Those words mean more than personal, inner peace; it’s peace—non-violence—for everybody. Jesus was a vocal advocate of non-violence. And that part of the Thomas story invites us and prompts us to ask honest Thomas-like questions.
We have long been concerned about the disturbing violence in Israel, in the country where Jesus walked and taught. We are Jesus’ disciples. How can we help stop the devastation of Jesus’ homeland? How can we help bring the Iraq war to some humane conclusion? It has been said that our major sin is complacency. But Thomas’ attitude moves us out of complacency into a mode of searching, struggling, and honest questioning—which should lead us to action.
Thomas’ attitude can lead us to struggle with senseless violence that has marked the west bank of Jerusalem. "Peace be with you." We don’t need to sit back and go along with the crowd. We need to ask questions and to reach into the wounds and scars of our faith and come up with wisdom to stop the violence and hatred. And violence is painfully and shamefully prevalent in our own front yard, on the streets of Durham. "Peace be with you" Jesus says to us in Durham.
What can we do about all this pain? Think, question, struggle. What are the questions we need to be asking now? Eve Carson at UNC and Abighit Mahato at Duke were both killed by handguns. If our faith is rooted in Jesus’ non-violence, why haven’t we mobilized our outrage to ask insistent questions: "Why, why, why?" Why did our justice system fail to keep a vigilant eye on two young men with criminal records? Why do we in this country allow the easy availability of handguns which have only one purpose—to kill or maim another human being? "Peace be with you."
If we are part of the faith community of this country, why haven’t we continued to ask crucial questions to help end the war in Iraq? If we want to honor the upcoming April 4 anniversary of the death of Martin Luther King, Jr., why don’t we ask our fellow citizens to understand that the African American church has been the only place in this country where the suffering of black people could be expressed in an open, cathartic way? Rev. Jeremiah Wright, former pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, preaches from the great African American prophetic tradition, giving voice to the suffering of his people with anger at the perpetrators of American violence and oppression. Rev. Wright’s words may sound inflammatory to some, but he is following the biblical legacy of the prophet Jeremiah for whom he is aptly named.
Honest doubt refuses to allow us to be silent and un-critical. Honest doubt motivates us to question any violence, any attitude, any policy that is contrary to the life-giving teachings of the risen Jesus. "Peace be with you," Jesus said to Thomas. Those words mean more than personal, inner peace; it’s peace—non-violence—for everybody in the room, in this country, in this world—in Iraq, Israel, or on our vulnerable college campuses and in our neighborhoods.
Why not follow Thomas’ example and ask questions—thoughtful, honest, probing questions. Without questions, there is no learning. Without questions, there is no action, no change. Without doubt, faith can drift into complacency.
At the end of the day, we may figure out that doubt is really an expression of love and faith. Honest doubt can lead us to a robust faith in Jesus, so that we become insistent advocates for his way of compassion and peace for all God’s children.
So may it be. Amen.
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Discussion: Honest Doubt |
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