A week after
Commentary
Object:
The gospels devote a great deal of attention to the week before Easter. Beginning with Palm Sunday and continuing through Jesus' burial on Friday evening, a full quarter of Matthew's entire book is devoted to that one week. Similarly that week dominates nearly a third of Mark's gospel and nearly 40% of John's! Luke is the writer who devotes the smallest portion to that week, but 18% is still a remarkable share of a book that begins all the way back with a prediction of the birth of John the Baptist.
That eventful week -- Holy Week -- is central to the story of Jesus' passion and death. But what about the next week? We know all about the week before Jesus' death; but what do we know about the week after his resurrection?
A writer can't be blamed for not doing something he wasn't trying to do in the first place. The relatively sparse coverage given to the week after Easter is not a fault of the gospels. Their purpose was to report the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and they do it with beauty and power.
You and I may have a particular interest in that less-heralded week. After all, this is where we live. Not only is this particular Sunday the week after Easter, but every day of our lives is lived during a week after Easter. This week is our week, and so we are eager to have Luke and John explore it with us.
Acts 5:27-32
At the beginning of chapter 3, Peter and John healed a crippled beggar in the temple precincts. Remarkably, here in the middle of chapter 5, that's still the story -- or at least the back story.
A great commotion had followed in the wake of that miracle, and it caught the attention of the Sanhedrin. Peter and John were apprehended and brought before the Jewish leaders there in Jerusalem.
Many of these leaders, of course, were the very same men who, not many weeks before, had conspired against Jesus. They were the ones who had arranged for Judas' betrayal, Jesus' surreptitious arrest, his manipulated trials, and ultimately his execution. How noxious it must have been to them, therefore, to have Jesus' followers as an ongoing nuisance there in Jerusalem. So they scolded Peter and John, punished them, threatened them, and strictly ordered them not to do anything more "in the name of Jesus" (Acts 4:18).
The apostles were undeterred, however. They and their fellow believers prayed for even greater boldness in the face of this persecution, and their ministries continued to be marked by great power and effectiveness. Fed up, the Jewish leaders arranged to have the apostles arrested, only to discover the next morning that their prisoners had been miraculously set free and were back in the temple again, preaching and teaching.
The same jealousy that animated their opposition to Jesus now motivated their opposition to the apostles. Indeed, we see in their characterization of the apostles' work -- "You have filled Jerusalem with your teaching" -- the same level of paranoia that marked their reaction to Jesus' presence and popularity (John 12:19 cf.).
The image of these men "stand(ing) before the council" is an incongruous one. Given their comparatively limited training, you would think that the apostles would be no contest for -- and no threat to -- the entrenched religious leadership there in Jerusalem. Also, rewind the tape of their lives four or five years, and it would have been impossible to project these Galilean nobodies onto this prominent stage in Jerusalem. Such is the work of the Holy Spirit.
As we juxtapose the words of the leadership with the words of the apostles, we observe that it is the Jewish leaders who adopt a defensive position ("you are determined to bring this man's blood on us"), even though it is the apostles who are presumably on trial. That they try to distance themselves from Jesus' death is tragically laughable. They were the key players in plotting and orchestrating his death, including bringing pressure to bear on Pilate to pass the death sentence. Yet, just as he had tried to wash his hands of the bloodguilt, so here do the Jewish leaders, as well.
Finally, we note that it is the apostles, not the religious paragons interrogating them, who are fixed on the things of God. "We must obey God," they insist. They speak of what "the God of our ancestors" did in raising Jesus, and that "God exalted him." They conclude by bearing witness to "the Holy Spirit whom God has given." Their entire focus is on God, while the religious leaders are embarrassingly preoccupied with themselves.
Revelation 1:4-8
For generations, people have turned to the book of Revelation and endeavored to find symbols of the nations and leaders of their day. In these introductory verses to the book, however, we are reminded about the most important thing being revealed in Revelation: Jesus. These few verses profoundly explore the person and work of Christ, and he is rightly understood as the focus of our explication.
Verses 5 and 6 are rich with terminology to inform our understanding of Christ. Three statements offer us titles for Jesus -- "the faithful witness," "the firstborn of the dead," and "the ruler of the kings of the earth" -- and three statements provide verbs to describe his work -- "loves us," "freed us from our sins by his blood," and "made us to be a kingdom of priests."
The titles used for Jesus may be understood chronologically. During his earthly ministry, he functioned as "the faithful witness" (see, for example, John 3:11, 32; 18:37). In his resurrection, he became "the firstborn of the dead." And in his victorious return, he will become "the ruler of the kings of the earth."
Likewise, the three verbs describing Christ's work seem to be arranged chronologically. His love, of course, comes first: everything that he does flows from that love. Then there is the saving act of freeing us from sin. And it is after he has saved us that he can, in turn, make us into the "kingdom of priests" (Exodus 19:6 cf.; 1 Peter 2:9) that is God's will and purpose for us.
The prospect of Christ "coming with the clouds" is found in the synoptic gospels (such as Matthew 24:30), though surprisingly not in John. Some commentators trace this imagery back to the Old Testament book of Daniel (7:14), and we recognize that a number of other themes and images in Revelation resonate with Daniel. Meanwhile, the dramatic picture of "those who pierced him" seeing the exalted Christ return and wailing has its origins in the Old Testament prophet Zechariah (12:10).
The "Alpha and Omega" title recurs twice in Revelation (21:6; 22:13). It is not always altogether clear whether it is being spoken by God the Father or by Jesus, and we observe "red letter" translations going both ways. In the NRSV, for example, the first and third instances are printed in red, while the second one is not. While we might welcome more clarity, the confusion might not be troublesome to the author. C. Anderson Scott notes the "complete and unhesitating acknowledgement of the Divine Nature of our Lord Jesus Christ" in Revelation, observing that "John sets Jesus side by side with the Almighty."
Finally, the passage is book ended by this descriptive phrase for God: "Who is and who was and who is to come." It appears twice here in chapter 1, as well as in a later glimpse of heavenly worship (4:8). In that latter appearance, it is part of the song that is sung before the throne: "Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come." The scene -- and the recurring phrase -- is captured in Reginald Heber's familiar hymn: "Holy, holy, holy! All the saints adore thee, casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea; cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be."
In the first instance, it seems to be a reference to the first person of the trinity, while in the second instance it is linked with "the Alpha and the Omega." Both phrases poetically bear witness to the eternal nature of God. While the book chronicles all the vicissitudes of life in this world, with its power struggles, temporal thrones, and cosmic battles, the enduring and unchanging reality is God. He is, he always was, and he always will be -- first and last -- and therein lies our confidence, our security, and our hope.
John 20:19-31
The disciples were an ignominious lot on this particular weekend. One of their group was operative in handing Jesus over to his opponents, and then committed suicide. The rest seemed to be scattered by fear when events turned against their leader. And the most vocal among them was caught denying his Lord three times.
Now, on Easter evening, "the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews." What an unpromising group! These are the men who were to take the gospel to the whole world? That seems unlikely, for all we see here when the scene opens is a cowering bunch, fearful and bewildered.
Then, quite suddenly, "Jesus came and stood among them." This in spite of the doors being so deliberately locked. It is a miracle he repeats a week later (John 20:26). In the wake of the empty tomb, therefore, we observe both that nothing can keep him out and that nothing can keep him in.
Jesus' first words -- "Peace be with you" -- seem to be more than just an ordinary greeting, a rote salutation. Rather, they are precisely the words needed at that moment, and precisely the reality needed by that group. The essentiality of his words is indicated by the fact that he repeated them after showing them "his hands and his side."
We do well to observe that Jesus showed his hands and side to those gathered, for Thomas, who was missing on this occasion, is sometimes disparaged for his expressed desire. "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands," Thomas declares, "and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe." We will discuss Thomas' infamous doubting more below, but suffice it to say here that he only sought what the others had already experienced.
Jesus' pronouncement -- "As the Father has sent me, so I send you" -- is thematically significant in John. That Jesus was "sent" by God is a recurring and important theme in the fourth gospel (as in 5:24-38; 6:37-57; 12:44-49). Meanwhile, the symmetry of missions -- the Father sending the Son, and the Son in turn sending the disciples -- is also characteristic of John's pattern and theology (4:34, 38 cf.).
The words and actions of verses 22 and 23 are widely debated. What is the relation of this impartation of the Holy Spirit to the Pentecost recorded in Acts? How do we square this event with Jesus' own words earlier in the gospel, which suggests that the Spirit would be sent by the Father (14:26) and that the Spirit's coming was predicated on the Son's leaving (16:7)? What is the connection between the teaching of verse 23 and the similar but not identical teaching found in Matthew 18:18?
If our purpose were strictly Bible study, I might entertain those debates in the pulpit. Because I believe that the preaching task has a different purpose, however, I hesitate to introduce such theological and hermeneutical problems into a sermon. I prefer, therefore, to stay with positive proclamation. To that end, I would make these two affirmations based on verses 22-23. First, the Holy Spirit is uniquely given through Jesus to his followers. Second, those followers bear a heady responsibility in the dissemination of the forgiveness that God offers and that the world needs.
The scene of Thomas being briefly left out is a touching one. He "was not with (the other disciples) when Jesus came," and so they had to report to him what they had seen and experienced but which he had not. He wanted to experience it, too. We have seen smaller versions of this same phenomenon among believers, and we take comfort in seeing that Jesus makes a point of including Thomas down the road.
Finally, in his penultimate chapter, John offers the rationale for his entire gospel: "These are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name." That statement by itself would be sufficient for a post-Easter sermon. Ask what the reason is for all the fuss -- all the services and songs, the sermons and anthems. What's the rationale for all our gatherings, our buildings, and our budgets? Why all the staff, the classes, the events, and the programs? Then proclaim, piece by piece, the profound answer: These are all so that you may come to believe. Specifically, to believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God. And then that belief will lead you to life.
Application
The gospels devote most of their pages to the years before Easter and, especially, the week before Easter. We direct our attention today, however, to the week after Easter. That is the setting of the gospel lection. Meanwhile, the passage from Acts occurred probably not many weeks after Easter. The vision from Revelation, while not on the heels of the other two passages, is decidedly after Easter.
The point is that our several passages for this Sunday meet us where we live. For not only does this Sunday represent on our calendars the week after Easter, but our entire life experience and faith come "after Easter."
You and I and our congregations live in the week after Easter. So what do our passages tell us about that setting in which we live?
First, it is a setting of joy and surprise. When the scene opens in the gospel lection, the disciples are bewildered and frightened. What unfolds during the next few verses, however, is a marvelous recognition of the risen Lord. And even though he was raised long ago, the experience continues for us today. We do not begin with joy. Rather, we, too, are surprised when confronted with the reality of the risen Lord, and we experience with Peter, et al., the joy of that epochal surprise.
Second, it is a setting of opposition, and therefore a context for boldness. The episode from the book of Acts shows that the opposition Jesus experienced during his earthly ministry did not end, either with his death or with his resurrection. His antagonists were neither placated by the former nor persuaded by the latter. And so his disciples inherit from him the hostility and persecution that he himself experienced. That first generation of followers understood that as a privilege (Acts 5:41) and joy (Colossians 1:24; 1 Peter 4:13). We see in their example the need for us to be similarly bold in our day. As Charles Wesley had it: "Bold to confess thy glorious name before a world of foes."
Finally, it is a setting of expectation and glory. This is the scene that we glimpse in the passage from Revelation. The victory of Easter was a beginning, not an end. And the opposition of the present age is a temporary fact of life, but not an eternal truth. There is a new day coming, and it is rooted in the exalted Lord. The followers of Christ, therefore, do not merely look back on the time line; we also look forward. We look behind us and celebrate the one who rose from the grave, and then we look ahead and anticipate the one who "is coming with the clouds."
It is the week after Easter, and this is where you and I live. Here we follow the one who was opposed, who was crucified, who rose, and who will reign. And so here you and I are surprised by joy, surrounded by opposition, and filled with expectation.
Alternative Application
John 20:19-31. "The Disciple with a Nickname." It is a rather poignant detail to read that John includes a kind of nickname for Thomas. Evidently he was called "the Twin." We don't know the exact reason for it, but it doesn't matter anymore. On the occasion recorded in our gospel lection, Thomas earned himself a new and different nickname. We know him as "doubting Thomas," and his nickname has become an idiom, a byword, like "Nervous Nellie," "Skinny Minnie," or "Chatty Cathy."
Thomas' reputation is ironic, given the larger context of how his peers behaved. The disciples in general hardly distinguished themselves by their faith. They didn't believe the initial reports of Jesus' resurrection (Mark 16:11-14). The two who were on the road to Emmaus were conspicuously obtuse in his presence (Luke 24:13-31). Later, having seen the same evidence that we hear Thomas requesting for himself, the disciples had doubts (Luke 24:36-41). And even as the risen Christ was about to ascend, some of his disciples still doubted (Matthew 28:17)!
In light of the whole group's initial response to the resurrection, therefore, it's hard to see why Thomas alone has been saddled with the "doubting" label.
Furthermore, Thomas' reputation is also an unfair one since, within the course of just a few verses, he changed so dramatically from being doubting Thomas to being believing Thomas. It's a shame for any person to be stuck with a nickname that reflects what they were before but does not reflect what they became.
A myth has persisted for years that Albert Einstein flunked a math class as a young student. The story is apocryphal, but it still serves to prove a point. For as widespread as the impression is that Einstein flunked a class, no one has nicknamed him "Dunce" or "Dope."
Yet Thomas has been permanently branded. He is forever "doubting Thomas" in our minds.
He did not stay "doubting Thomas." He changed. His faith turned 180 degrees, as he exclaimed, "My Lord and my God" (John 20:28). No other disciple's Christology reaches a higher apex than Thomas. When it comes to a profession of Christ, Thomas has no twin.
Preaching the Psalm
by Schuyler Rhodes
Psalm 118:14-29
"Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!" This line is heard throughout Lent and the Easter season. We read it, we sing it, we wave palm branches and even dance a bit if our particular church leans that way. Blessed indeed is the name of the one who comes in the name of the Lord. How else, you might ask, would anyone arrive? We don't think about it much, but people show up in the name of all sorts of masters. The police show up in the name of the law. Soldiers from too many armies show up in the name of peace. Famous Motown singers call us to "stop in the name of love." Some people even show up using the name of the Lord himself. But we know they are posing when they spout hatred and judgment rather than compassion and grace.
Showing up in the name of the Lord is serious business. Showing up and saying that you have arrived in God's name means some pretty intense things. For one thing, it means that you drop your agenda and take up God's priorities. For another thing, it means that you are worthy of trust. These two things alone are difficult enough. But there's still more. Showing up in the name of God also means that you might just be crucified.
They don't use crosses much anymore, but the result is the same. Proclaiming God's name and insisting on God's ways can result in the same amount of trouble whether it's two millennia ago or today. Still, it is a blessing. To give up one's precious point of view to adopt God's perspective is a blessing. To live your life in such a way that you engender trust and love is a blessing. And to follow unwaveringly in the ways of peace and new life no matter where it may lead is a blessing indeed.
So in this season of blessing and new beginnings, it might be a good idea to step back and take stock of just whose name we wear when we show up every day. Do we show up in the name of the Lord? Or do we arrive in the name of a paycheck or in the name of getting the job done? It's worth a moment of prayer and consideration. And as we pray, let's pray the words from this psalm, "Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!"
That eventful week -- Holy Week -- is central to the story of Jesus' passion and death. But what about the next week? We know all about the week before Jesus' death; but what do we know about the week after his resurrection?
A writer can't be blamed for not doing something he wasn't trying to do in the first place. The relatively sparse coverage given to the week after Easter is not a fault of the gospels. Their purpose was to report the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and they do it with beauty and power.
You and I may have a particular interest in that less-heralded week. After all, this is where we live. Not only is this particular Sunday the week after Easter, but every day of our lives is lived during a week after Easter. This week is our week, and so we are eager to have Luke and John explore it with us.
Acts 5:27-32
At the beginning of chapter 3, Peter and John healed a crippled beggar in the temple precincts. Remarkably, here in the middle of chapter 5, that's still the story -- or at least the back story.
A great commotion had followed in the wake of that miracle, and it caught the attention of the Sanhedrin. Peter and John were apprehended and brought before the Jewish leaders there in Jerusalem.
Many of these leaders, of course, were the very same men who, not many weeks before, had conspired against Jesus. They were the ones who had arranged for Judas' betrayal, Jesus' surreptitious arrest, his manipulated trials, and ultimately his execution. How noxious it must have been to them, therefore, to have Jesus' followers as an ongoing nuisance there in Jerusalem. So they scolded Peter and John, punished them, threatened them, and strictly ordered them not to do anything more "in the name of Jesus" (Acts 4:18).
The apostles were undeterred, however. They and their fellow believers prayed for even greater boldness in the face of this persecution, and their ministries continued to be marked by great power and effectiveness. Fed up, the Jewish leaders arranged to have the apostles arrested, only to discover the next morning that their prisoners had been miraculously set free and were back in the temple again, preaching and teaching.
The same jealousy that animated their opposition to Jesus now motivated their opposition to the apostles. Indeed, we see in their characterization of the apostles' work -- "You have filled Jerusalem with your teaching" -- the same level of paranoia that marked their reaction to Jesus' presence and popularity (John 12:19 cf.).
The image of these men "stand(ing) before the council" is an incongruous one. Given their comparatively limited training, you would think that the apostles would be no contest for -- and no threat to -- the entrenched religious leadership there in Jerusalem. Also, rewind the tape of their lives four or five years, and it would have been impossible to project these Galilean nobodies onto this prominent stage in Jerusalem. Such is the work of the Holy Spirit.
As we juxtapose the words of the leadership with the words of the apostles, we observe that it is the Jewish leaders who adopt a defensive position ("you are determined to bring this man's blood on us"), even though it is the apostles who are presumably on trial. That they try to distance themselves from Jesus' death is tragically laughable. They were the key players in plotting and orchestrating his death, including bringing pressure to bear on Pilate to pass the death sentence. Yet, just as he had tried to wash his hands of the bloodguilt, so here do the Jewish leaders, as well.
Finally, we note that it is the apostles, not the religious paragons interrogating them, who are fixed on the things of God. "We must obey God," they insist. They speak of what "the God of our ancestors" did in raising Jesus, and that "God exalted him." They conclude by bearing witness to "the Holy Spirit whom God has given." Their entire focus is on God, while the religious leaders are embarrassingly preoccupied with themselves.
Revelation 1:4-8
For generations, people have turned to the book of Revelation and endeavored to find symbols of the nations and leaders of their day. In these introductory verses to the book, however, we are reminded about the most important thing being revealed in Revelation: Jesus. These few verses profoundly explore the person and work of Christ, and he is rightly understood as the focus of our explication.
Verses 5 and 6 are rich with terminology to inform our understanding of Christ. Three statements offer us titles for Jesus -- "the faithful witness," "the firstborn of the dead," and "the ruler of the kings of the earth" -- and three statements provide verbs to describe his work -- "loves us," "freed us from our sins by his blood," and "made us to be a kingdom of priests."
The titles used for Jesus may be understood chronologically. During his earthly ministry, he functioned as "the faithful witness" (see, for example, John 3:11, 32; 18:37). In his resurrection, he became "the firstborn of the dead." And in his victorious return, he will become "the ruler of the kings of the earth."
Likewise, the three verbs describing Christ's work seem to be arranged chronologically. His love, of course, comes first: everything that he does flows from that love. Then there is the saving act of freeing us from sin. And it is after he has saved us that he can, in turn, make us into the "kingdom of priests" (Exodus 19:6 cf.; 1 Peter 2:9) that is God's will and purpose for us.
The prospect of Christ "coming with the clouds" is found in the synoptic gospels (such as Matthew 24:30), though surprisingly not in John. Some commentators trace this imagery back to the Old Testament book of Daniel (7:14), and we recognize that a number of other themes and images in Revelation resonate with Daniel. Meanwhile, the dramatic picture of "those who pierced him" seeing the exalted Christ return and wailing has its origins in the Old Testament prophet Zechariah (12:10).
The "Alpha and Omega" title recurs twice in Revelation (21:6; 22:13). It is not always altogether clear whether it is being spoken by God the Father or by Jesus, and we observe "red letter" translations going both ways. In the NRSV, for example, the first and third instances are printed in red, while the second one is not. While we might welcome more clarity, the confusion might not be troublesome to the author. C. Anderson Scott notes the "complete and unhesitating acknowledgement of the Divine Nature of our Lord Jesus Christ" in Revelation, observing that "John sets Jesus side by side with the Almighty."
Finally, the passage is book ended by this descriptive phrase for God: "Who is and who was and who is to come." It appears twice here in chapter 1, as well as in a later glimpse of heavenly worship (4:8). In that latter appearance, it is part of the song that is sung before the throne: "Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come." The scene -- and the recurring phrase -- is captured in Reginald Heber's familiar hymn: "Holy, holy, holy! All the saints adore thee, casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea; cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be."
In the first instance, it seems to be a reference to the first person of the trinity, while in the second instance it is linked with "the Alpha and the Omega." Both phrases poetically bear witness to the eternal nature of God. While the book chronicles all the vicissitudes of life in this world, with its power struggles, temporal thrones, and cosmic battles, the enduring and unchanging reality is God. He is, he always was, and he always will be -- first and last -- and therein lies our confidence, our security, and our hope.
John 20:19-31
The disciples were an ignominious lot on this particular weekend. One of their group was operative in handing Jesus over to his opponents, and then committed suicide. The rest seemed to be scattered by fear when events turned against their leader. And the most vocal among them was caught denying his Lord three times.
Now, on Easter evening, "the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews." What an unpromising group! These are the men who were to take the gospel to the whole world? That seems unlikely, for all we see here when the scene opens is a cowering bunch, fearful and bewildered.
Then, quite suddenly, "Jesus came and stood among them." This in spite of the doors being so deliberately locked. It is a miracle he repeats a week later (John 20:26). In the wake of the empty tomb, therefore, we observe both that nothing can keep him out and that nothing can keep him in.
Jesus' first words -- "Peace be with you" -- seem to be more than just an ordinary greeting, a rote salutation. Rather, they are precisely the words needed at that moment, and precisely the reality needed by that group. The essentiality of his words is indicated by the fact that he repeated them after showing them "his hands and his side."
We do well to observe that Jesus showed his hands and side to those gathered, for Thomas, who was missing on this occasion, is sometimes disparaged for his expressed desire. "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands," Thomas declares, "and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe." We will discuss Thomas' infamous doubting more below, but suffice it to say here that he only sought what the others had already experienced.
Jesus' pronouncement -- "As the Father has sent me, so I send you" -- is thematically significant in John. That Jesus was "sent" by God is a recurring and important theme in the fourth gospel (as in 5:24-38; 6:37-57; 12:44-49). Meanwhile, the symmetry of missions -- the Father sending the Son, and the Son in turn sending the disciples -- is also characteristic of John's pattern and theology (4:34, 38 cf.).
The words and actions of verses 22 and 23 are widely debated. What is the relation of this impartation of the Holy Spirit to the Pentecost recorded in Acts? How do we square this event with Jesus' own words earlier in the gospel, which suggests that the Spirit would be sent by the Father (14:26) and that the Spirit's coming was predicated on the Son's leaving (16:7)? What is the connection between the teaching of verse 23 and the similar but not identical teaching found in Matthew 18:18?
If our purpose were strictly Bible study, I might entertain those debates in the pulpit. Because I believe that the preaching task has a different purpose, however, I hesitate to introduce such theological and hermeneutical problems into a sermon. I prefer, therefore, to stay with positive proclamation. To that end, I would make these two affirmations based on verses 22-23. First, the Holy Spirit is uniquely given through Jesus to his followers. Second, those followers bear a heady responsibility in the dissemination of the forgiveness that God offers and that the world needs.
The scene of Thomas being briefly left out is a touching one. He "was not with (the other disciples) when Jesus came," and so they had to report to him what they had seen and experienced but which he had not. He wanted to experience it, too. We have seen smaller versions of this same phenomenon among believers, and we take comfort in seeing that Jesus makes a point of including Thomas down the road.
Finally, in his penultimate chapter, John offers the rationale for his entire gospel: "These are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name." That statement by itself would be sufficient for a post-Easter sermon. Ask what the reason is for all the fuss -- all the services and songs, the sermons and anthems. What's the rationale for all our gatherings, our buildings, and our budgets? Why all the staff, the classes, the events, and the programs? Then proclaim, piece by piece, the profound answer: These are all so that you may come to believe. Specifically, to believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God. And then that belief will lead you to life.
Application
The gospels devote most of their pages to the years before Easter and, especially, the week before Easter. We direct our attention today, however, to the week after Easter. That is the setting of the gospel lection. Meanwhile, the passage from Acts occurred probably not many weeks after Easter. The vision from Revelation, while not on the heels of the other two passages, is decidedly after Easter.
The point is that our several passages for this Sunday meet us where we live. For not only does this Sunday represent on our calendars the week after Easter, but our entire life experience and faith come "after Easter."
You and I and our congregations live in the week after Easter. So what do our passages tell us about that setting in which we live?
First, it is a setting of joy and surprise. When the scene opens in the gospel lection, the disciples are bewildered and frightened. What unfolds during the next few verses, however, is a marvelous recognition of the risen Lord. And even though he was raised long ago, the experience continues for us today. We do not begin with joy. Rather, we, too, are surprised when confronted with the reality of the risen Lord, and we experience with Peter, et al., the joy of that epochal surprise.
Second, it is a setting of opposition, and therefore a context for boldness. The episode from the book of Acts shows that the opposition Jesus experienced during his earthly ministry did not end, either with his death or with his resurrection. His antagonists were neither placated by the former nor persuaded by the latter. And so his disciples inherit from him the hostility and persecution that he himself experienced. That first generation of followers understood that as a privilege (Acts 5:41) and joy (Colossians 1:24; 1 Peter 4:13). We see in their example the need for us to be similarly bold in our day. As Charles Wesley had it: "Bold to confess thy glorious name before a world of foes."
Finally, it is a setting of expectation and glory. This is the scene that we glimpse in the passage from Revelation. The victory of Easter was a beginning, not an end. And the opposition of the present age is a temporary fact of life, but not an eternal truth. There is a new day coming, and it is rooted in the exalted Lord. The followers of Christ, therefore, do not merely look back on the time line; we also look forward. We look behind us and celebrate the one who rose from the grave, and then we look ahead and anticipate the one who "is coming with the clouds."
It is the week after Easter, and this is where you and I live. Here we follow the one who was opposed, who was crucified, who rose, and who will reign. And so here you and I are surprised by joy, surrounded by opposition, and filled with expectation.
Alternative Application
John 20:19-31. "The Disciple with a Nickname." It is a rather poignant detail to read that John includes a kind of nickname for Thomas. Evidently he was called "the Twin." We don't know the exact reason for it, but it doesn't matter anymore. On the occasion recorded in our gospel lection, Thomas earned himself a new and different nickname. We know him as "doubting Thomas," and his nickname has become an idiom, a byword, like "Nervous Nellie," "Skinny Minnie," or "Chatty Cathy."
Thomas' reputation is ironic, given the larger context of how his peers behaved. The disciples in general hardly distinguished themselves by their faith. They didn't believe the initial reports of Jesus' resurrection (Mark 16:11-14). The two who were on the road to Emmaus were conspicuously obtuse in his presence (Luke 24:13-31). Later, having seen the same evidence that we hear Thomas requesting for himself, the disciples had doubts (Luke 24:36-41). And even as the risen Christ was about to ascend, some of his disciples still doubted (Matthew 28:17)!
In light of the whole group's initial response to the resurrection, therefore, it's hard to see why Thomas alone has been saddled with the "doubting" label.
Furthermore, Thomas' reputation is also an unfair one since, within the course of just a few verses, he changed so dramatically from being doubting Thomas to being believing Thomas. It's a shame for any person to be stuck with a nickname that reflects what they were before but does not reflect what they became.
A myth has persisted for years that Albert Einstein flunked a math class as a young student. The story is apocryphal, but it still serves to prove a point. For as widespread as the impression is that Einstein flunked a class, no one has nicknamed him "Dunce" or "Dope."
Yet Thomas has been permanently branded. He is forever "doubting Thomas" in our minds.
He did not stay "doubting Thomas." He changed. His faith turned 180 degrees, as he exclaimed, "My Lord and my God" (John 20:28). No other disciple's Christology reaches a higher apex than Thomas. When it comes to a profession of Christ, Thomas has no twin.
Preaching the Psalm
by Schuyler Rhodes
Psalm 118:14-29
"Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!" This line is heard throughout Lent and the Easter season. We read it, we sing it, we wave palm branches and even dance a bit if our particular church leans that way. Blessed indeed is the name of the one who comes in the name of the Lord. How else, you might ask, would anyone arrive? We don't think about it much, but people show up in the name of all sorts of masters. The police show up in the name of the law. Soldiers from too many armies show up in the name of peace. Famous Motown singers call us to "stop in the name of love." Some people even show up using the name of the Lord himself. But we know they are posing when they spout hatred and judgment rather than compassion and grace.
Showing up in the name of the Lord is serious business. Showing up and saying that you have arrived in God's name means some pretty intense things. For one thing, it means that you drop your agenda and take up God's priorities. For another thing, it means that you are worthy of trust. These two things alone are difficult enough. But there's still more. Showing up in the name of God also means that you might just be crucified.
They don't use crosses much anymore, but the result is the same. Proclaiming God's name and insisting on God's ways can result in the same amount of trouble whether it's two millennia ago or today. Still, it is a blessing. To give up one's precious point of view to adopt God's perspective is a blessing. To live your life in such a way that you engender trust and love is a blessing. And to follow unwaveringly in the ways of peace and new life no matter where it may lead is a blessing indeed.
So in this season of blessing and new beginnings, it might be a good idea to step back and take stock of just whose name we wear when we show up every day. Do we show up in the name of the Lord? Or do we arrive in the name of a paycheck or in the name of getting the job done? It's worth a moment of prayer and consideration. And as we pray, let's pray the words from this psalm, "Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!"
