We are still in the shadow of Easter, and if we are still and focused enough, our nostrils may even detect the faint smell of tulips and lilies still lingering in our homes and in our sanctuaries. Although our Sunday finest should already be washed and hung for another occasion, the reminders can still be seen. The tulips that we have taken home from the sanctuary may be moving towards their last days on tables and counter tops. Maybe they should have been tossed already. Perhaps we are asking what we should do with those remaining hardboiled eggs in our refrigerators waiting to be made into egg salad. And if there are still bowls of chocolate or jelly beans; they are probably only in flavors that none of us like; like those Special Dark Bars or Black Jelly Beans.
With the shadow of that joyous celebration still visible in our rear view mirror but fading fast, I am sure that many of us cannot help but ask: “What now?”. What do we do know that Holy Week has passed and our pews now empty? There is a pall over this place that many call the Easter Hangover and for some it could be just as dark as the Lenten weeks proceeding Holy Week itself.
As soon as we have packed the Easter stuff away, the Bible calls us to the story of those First Easter Hangovers. The first is that which is found in the story of one man who found himself in the darkest of moments. His Easter hangover was exponentially deeper than ones we can imagine. The Bible refers to that man as the disciple Thomas, but over time we have taking to calling him Doubting Thomas. Of all the characters in the Bible that history has given a bad rap to, only Mary Magdalene could make an argument for having received worse treatment.
The title “Doubting Thomas” is neither fair or true to who the man actually was. When we hear of Thomas in other stories, we do not see a weak or wishy-washy individual. In one story, where Jesus is summoned by a dying friend to return to a town full of his enemies, it is Thomas who stands and declares that he will return and die with Jesus. This is a Thomas full of courage. In the last supper story, it is Thomas who doesn’t sit silently by as Jesus teaches, but raises his hand to, more or less say, he just doesn’t understand. This is a Thomas full of honesty.
Then there is the moment that is spoken of in this Easter Hangover story. Thomas is broken and struggling to make sense of it all. He is standing in the shadow of Easter and asking himself “what now?” He has heard the stories of the risen Jesus, and he wants to believe, and he knows that he needs to believe, but just is unable to do so. His heart has been broken and his hope has been stolen over the last week.
Although some are trying to convince him that Jesus had magically or miraculously reappeared, he hurts too much to believe. He refuses to grab a hold of what the other disciples are selling. It is as if a piece of his heart has been locked and cordoned off. He doesn’t want to hear any of the baloney; it hurts too much. In his brokenness, he tells – perhaps even yells at – the other disciples that he will not believe their story, unless he has proof. He will not believe until he can place his fingers in the mark of the nails or his hand in the hole in his side.”
I think of the many who found themselves in churches Easter Sunday, because that’s what you are supposed to do on Easter. I also think of those who chose not to come. There were those for whom the idea of church never crossed their mind, and there were those that made the deliberate choice not to go.
I saw many who dressed their kids up in fancy dresses and pretty bonnets. There houses were filled with chocolate and baskets. I wanted to stop, look them in the eye and ask why and what for. What are you celebrating this day if you’re not celebrating Jesus? In the end, I remain silent.
Yet, there are times when I consider these things and my heart breaks. We know that God calls and pushes each one of us. I think of Jesus’ words in John 12:32 where we hear; “If I be lifted up from the earth I will draw all men unto me.” God doesn’t just speak to those of us who find their butt in the pews each week. God reaches out for all of us, without ceasing, and pleads with us to return home. Maybe his voice is heard in the still small voice or in the roar screams of crisis, but he is calling all. As Methodists we call the presence of that voice Prevenient Grace.
Sadly too many of us refuse to believe, hear, or listen. They hear the story of Jesus and are unmoved. They hear the story of changed lives and nothing happens. They hear of miracles and of a power that redeems and changes, but they refuse to believe. They laugh off the church and her teachings as age old mythologies or useless but quaint fairy tales.
All the while, they ignore the aching in their chest telling them to turn left. They are like Thomas in that locked upper room. They will not believe until they can place their fingers in the mark of the nails or their hand in the hole in his side.
It is almost too easy to see the modern day doubter in the story of Thomas. You can see them standing defiantly in the face of the stories, the miracles, and testimonies. You can hear them demanding more than stories. You can hear them demanding proof. If you look around you can see them all around us, and sometimes their heartbreak is at a deafening volume.
It is not that Thomas is being stubborn or prideful. Thomas is hurt. His heart is broken. When I hear this story, I think of time I spent talking with young woman, who I will call Veronica. Veronica became the image of Thomas for me.
Veronica was the victim of abuse that occurred within a church by a pastor. Her story is hard to hear. It is one of those stories that I heard and knew instantly, that the best I could do for her was to listen, be present, and then run to find the psychiatrist or counselor who was trained to help.
She is angry and hurt. She pointed around this building meant to help and meant to reveal the glory of a God of Love, and all she saw was rejection, hurt, and pain. She wanted to believe that there was something here for her. She wanted to know the God I know, but she couldn’t. Her heart and her psyche were torn in two as a nine year old girl, and the scar tissue that formed was too thick to penetrate.
In the end, I knew that I was not the help she needed. She needed the help that Pastors pretend to so frequently be able to give, but it needed to come from a doctor, not a pastor or an accountant. Although she was spiritually broken, she needed help that I am not trained to give. Yet, we did work together to find that help.
I couldn’t give her all she needed, but I did reassure her of that which I did know. I reassured that although the church left her when she was so little, Jesus never did. I know – with every ounce of my being – that He stands beside her today, as clearly as he did when she was that little hurt girl being attacked by a monster.
She smiled, but said she couldn’t quite believe. More or less, she said the same thing as Thomas did so long ago. She wouldn’t believe that he was here, until she could put her fingers in his side. She would believe when she had the proof.
As I think of that young girls story – or Thomas’ for that matter – I take great joy in knowing that the story doesn’t end in our failure to listen. A week after Thomas demands that proof, Jesus appears in a locked room right along the disciples. Everything changes in an instant.
Again, I have, at times, tried to close my eyes and picture that scene. There had to be panic and fear. Just knowing how the story ends and visualizing it in my mind’s eye, leads me to chuckles as I can almost see the disciples scrambling and knocking things over to find their cover.
In my mind’s eye I also try to picture Thomas, because its Thomas that Jesus heads to first. It is not the awe, the panic or the confusion in the room that Jesus addresses first. It is the doubt. Jesus appears and makes a bee-line straight for Thomas. It’s as if Jesus knows already how hurt, broken, and in need Thomas is.
In my mind’s eye can see Jesus grabbing Thomas hands, with infinite gentleness, and saying “put them here and put them here.” Thomas has only one response; “my Lord and my God!” In that instant he had his proof. He had seen the wounds in his hands and the hole in his side and it was real; all of it! Jesus tells him not to doubt but to believe.
If you close your eyes you can see that wonderful scene perfectly; gentle, radiant and smiling Jesus standing before wide eyed, stuttering, and knee shaking Thomas. Gentle, radiant and smiling Jesus standing before wide eyed Veronica. I can only imagine the power of that moment for Thomas, and for Veronica. In the end they had no other choice but to follow him and serve him completely.
Yet the true Grace of that moment, arrives in the final comment that Jesus gives to Thomas; “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Blessed are those like Veronica. Blessed is Veronica who was broken beyond repair and opened her eyes to the Jesus in her midst.
As I think on those climatic words, I see the many faces of those who have turned from the church. I know that just because they turn their back in hurt, grief, or pain…doesn’t mean that God has turned their back on them. I think of those that defiantly stand demanding proof before they open their hearts or their lives to God, and I take comfort in the story of Thomas.
In the story of Thomas I am reminded that God is willing to break the rules; God is willing, able, and eager to provide us each with the proof we need to believe. For some that proof is the majestic, mountaintop, burning bush moment. For others that proof is found in the elegant beauty of an oak tree in autumn, the purity and perfection of a newborn, or the proof that is found in a gentle breeze. The true gift of God is he provides all the proof we need to respond and return.
Maybe it is that Grace that becomes evident when we find ourselves in the dark corners of life. It is that Grace that is experienced in the doctor’s office, at the funeral home, or in a shelter. It’s the Grace that comes front and center when you want to scream; “why me?” In those moments, we do not stand and scream, but rather we trust and we know. We know he is there simply because he told us he would be. I have to believe that is what Jesus meant when he said “blessed are those who do not see, but believe.”
In the end, there may be an Easter Hangover for you and I, but nothing changes for God. Easter is not just April 8. Easter is a season. Easter is a way of life. Easter is our fresh start. Our hangovers come when we fail to see the fullness of the empty tomb. Here is our Easter Promise: He is still reaching out for us, and His desire is for all of us to return. He is promising that nothing, not powers or principalities –not even the permanence of the grave- can separate us from Him. Our call is to continue to listen to what he has to say, and to put our trust towards believing.
Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. Blessed are those who mourn in the hangover of Easter, but will one day come to believe. Thanks be to God, Amen.
(Pic by Angela Vincent, 3/15/2008, Creative Common License, Flickr.com)
