We do Thomas (and ourselves) a grave injustice by reducing the questioning apostle to a mere caricature. Most prominently in the account of the post-resurrection appearance to the apostles, but also in this Sunday’s text from John, Thomas speaks for all Christians who sometimes doubt and question. In some sense, we might even call Thomas the first theologian. According to St. Anselm, theology is faith seeking understanding. That is exactly what Thomas is doing. Thomas asks the questions others are either afraid to ask or do not even know they have. Faith is not certainty. Faith is not perfect knowledge. As St. Paul says in I Cor., “For now we see in a mirror, dimly,but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” An again in Hebrews we read “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Thomas reminds us that we need not leave our doubts and questions at the church door and history shows us that the church is often most unfaithful when most certain.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
4th Sunday of Easter - Year A (John 10: 1-10)
“I am the gate.”
Although I know that in the Mideast the shepherd often sleeps at the opening of the sheep pen and is literally a human gate, the gate images that fill my mind as I prayerfully consider this Gospel text are made of wood. Perhaps this is the result of a recent do-it-yourself project where a gate/door was added to the potting shed we are building in the back yard. It seems an obvious jump then, from the gate to the cross. We are incorporated into the fold by way of the cross. We are saved from our twin enemies, sin and death, by the cross. We are given access to the fullness of life through the cross.
Gates serve two functions that can seem at cross (no pun intended) purposes. A closed gate marks a boundary between “in and out” which cannot be passed. An open gate creates a space in which the boundary between “in and out” is breached. The cross stands as just such a paradox as it condemns our sin and announces our salvation.
Although I know that in the Mideast the shepherd often sleeps at the opening of the sheep pen and is literally a human gate, the gate images that fill my mind as I prayerfully consider this Gospel text are made of wood. Perhaps this is the result of a recent do-it-yourself project where a gate/door was added to the potting shed we are building in the back yard. It seems an obvious jump then, from the gate to the cross. We are incorporated into the fold by way of the cross. We are saved from our twin enemies, sin and death, by the cross. We are given access to the fullness of life through the cross.
Gates serve two functions that can seem at cross (no pun intended) purposes. A closed gate marks a boundary between “in and out” which cannot be passed. An open gate creates a space in which the boundary between “in and out” is breached. The cross stands as just such a paradox as it condemns our sin and announces our salvation.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
3rd Sunday of Easter - Year A (Luke 24:13-35)
They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32) As a person who suffers from frequent heart burn, I am forced to take a second look at this passage from Luke. While we have always interpreted this in a positive light, perhaps we do the Word a disservice by eliminating any notion of preaching as irritation.
Perhaps the best analogy is that of the grain of sand in the oyster – a tiny irritant that, in due time, produces a pearl. It might help to imagine yourself on a plane traveling home from a funeral and being forced to sit next to someone who insists on having a conversation. While no doubt awed by the way in which the stranger explained the scriptures to them, the two pilgrim disciples on the way to Emmaus must have been at least a bit irritated. Not only did they have their solitude impinged upon by this talkative fellow traveler but their understanding of both the scriptures and the events that had just taken place was refuted. It was only in the context of the breaking of the bread that everything became clear.
The effective preaching of the good news requires a kind of pushiness that is respectful but insistent. Effective preaching requires that the hearer’s preconceptions sometimes be dismantled. Finally, effective preaching is tied to the Eucharist. It is the presence of the risen Christ in both word and sacrament that enables us to hear and receive Gospel.
Perhaps the best analogy is that of the grain of sand in the oyster – a tiny irritant that, in due time, produces a pearl. It might help to imagine yourself on a plane traveling home from a funeral and being forced to sit next to someone who insists on having a conversation. While no doubt awed by the way in which the stranger explained the scriptures to them, the two pilgrim disciples on the way to Emmaus must have been at least a bit irritated. Not only did they have their solitude impinged upon by this talkative fellow traveler but their understanding of both the scriptures and the events that had just taken place was refuted. It was only in the context of the breaking of the bread that everything became clear.
The effective preaching of the good news requires a kind of pushiness that is respectful but insistent. Effective preaching requires that the hearer’s preconceptions sometimes be dismantled. Finally, effective preaching is tied to the Eucharist. It is the presence of the risen Christ in both word and sacrament that enables us to hear and receive Gospel.
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