Laugh, Thomas, Laugh!
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle B
Object:
The first Sunday after Easter is Holy Humor Sunday, as it is celebrated in many places. If you are not familiar with that concept, it is only because your experience has not been in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. It is based on the understanding that the resurrection of Jesus is the ultimate joke on death, Satan, and all the forces of evil. It is a testament to the God who, as the psalmist says, "sits in the heavens and laughs" (2:4) at the foolishness of humanity and any forces that might seek to thwart divine purposes. Word has it that one tradition is for priests to gather on the Monday following Easter for cigars, brandy, and jokes to celebrate the God who does this surprising, transforming thing -- my kind of Presbytery meeting.
Related to that is this tradition of designating the second Sunday of Easter (which some liturgical calendars call "Low Sunday") as "Holy Humor Sunday." We bring bells and noisemakers of all sorts and use them heartily at any points in the service that reflect celebration -- "alleluia" and "joy." The resurrection is comedy of the best sort, the unexpected reversal of expectations. Mary comes to the tomb on Easter morning expecting to find a dead body. Her train of thought keeps barreling along one track, and she almost literally stumbles over the risen Lord. That is humor of the highest order. Resurrection reverses the expectation of gloom and doom in the face of death and instead brings celebration. Alleluia! Ring those bells!
Despite the fact that the church's lectionary of scripture readings is in a three-year cycle, the gospel lesson for the Sunday after Easter each year is the same, the story of the risen Christ's appearance to the disciples in the upper room on Easter evening, the note that Thomas happened to be absent that night, his abrupt response to the claim of resurrection, then the gathering one week later with Thomas now in attendance, the reappearance of the risen Christ, and the doubter's wonderful "about face" (or perhaps better, "about faith"). "My Lord and my God" (v. 28).
Thomas ... doubting Thomas. I have always felt sorry for him. One incident, one remark, after a particularly traumatic experience ... the murder of his master ... has tarred him ever since. It makes no difference that the rest of his life was marked by faithful service to his Lord. Thomas became doubting Thomas, and his name has been used ever since as a euphemism for the skeptic. That is not very fair.
The first time we encounter Thomas is in chapter 11 of John. Jesus had just been informed that his friend, Lazarus, was so sick that he was about to die. Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, were in Bethany near Jerusalem, but Jesus and the disciples were some miles away over across the Jordan. They had gone there to escape the hostility of the temple leaders who had recently tried to have Jesus stoned. Word finally came that it was too late, Lazarus was dead. Two days went by. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Jesus said, "Let's go over to Bethany to see Lazarus."
"Wait a minute," the disciples say. "It is too risky. You are liable to be killed if you go that near to Jerusalem."
But Jesus responds, "Lazarus is asleep and I must go to wake him."
Now the group is even more confused. "What do you mean, you have to go and wake him? If he is asleep, that means he is going to get better."
But then Jesus explains, "I do not mean asleep asleep; I mean asleep dead. Let's go."
The twelve know how dangerous it is to make such a trip ... especially if it is only to pay last respects. But here we meet Thomas for the first time, the same Thomas we have called the doubter all these many centuries, and what do we find? No doubter now. We find a Thomas who says to the rest, "Let us also go ... that we may die with him" (John 11:16). Thomas, a faithful friend, faithful even unto death.
The next time we find Thomas mentioned in scripture is in chapter 14 of John. The apostles had gathered to celebrate the Passover. Their master was trying to explain to them that the task for which he had come to earth was about to be undertaken. Jesus would be leaving them -- he would be returning to the bosom of the Father, but he was doing it so these twelve, as well as all the countless others who would believe throughout history, would be able to join him there.
It might have been very easy for them all to just let Jesus keep on talking in hopes that they would somehow begin to understand. You can almost climb inside a disciple's mind as he hears about "My father's house" and "many dwelling places" and "going to prepare a place" and so on, wondering just what in the world Jesus is talking about, but being afraid to sound stupid by asking a question. Fortunately, we have Thomas. Not doubting Thomas but thoughtful Thomas. If he had a question, he would ask it ... even when no one else would.
"Wait a minute, Lord," says Thomas. "We don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" (John 14:5).
That is a good question ... and it got a tremendous answer: "I am the way ... the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). Yes, Thomas was thoughtful ... and that is good. A faith that requires acceptance without thinking is not faith, it is gullibility.
Now we meet Thomas for the third time in the gospel account. The other disciples tell him that Jesus is risen from the dead. But Thomas cannot believe it. It is not as if the man refuses to accept the possibility of the dead being raised; after all, he had seen that very thing happen with the daughter of Jairus and the son of the widow of Nain ... and he had seen it with Lazarus.
But this was different. Jesus had not died of natural causes ... causes that could somehow miraculously be reversed by the intervention of the Son of God. This was murder -- spears and nails and a cross. A thoughtful man would have to say that this kind of death is not reversible ... and Thomas tells the others precisely that. "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe. Think about it, people, this is just not possible!" Thus, we get doubting Thomas ... not faithful friend Thomas or thoughtful Thomas but doubting Thomas. Not very fair.
Perhaps Thomas' real problem was that he was devastated by what had happened and would not admit it. Not to his friends, not even to himself. He was so devastated that he could not see what had to be the sheer joy on his friends' faces. After all, what they experienced in meeting the resurrected Jesus totally changed them. It was their encounter with the risen Lord that empowered them to publicly and powerfully proclaim the good news, the news that, over time would turn the world upside down. But Thomas could not see that joy.
No doubt there are folks in our church pews in exactly the same boat. Life has dealt some crushing blows -- marriages are breaking, homes are splitting, jobs are dissolving, addictions are overpowering, diseases are devastating, grief is becoming despair. We may call ourselves Easter people but it still looks like a Good Friday world.
The message of the gospel to those who cannot see the Easter joy is, "Open your eyes!" See what God has done. Celebrate it. Even laugh about it. Yes! Laugh, Thomas, laugh.
That is a reminder we all need from time to time. Life can be so burdensome; we can be depressed, discouraged, despondent; we can get so far down that we cannot remember up! Then along comes a day like this one. A day for laughter and light-heartedness, for comedy and craziness, a day to celebrate the victory of the resurrection over death and the grave, a day to join our voices with the God who "sits in the heavens and laughs," a day to remember the word of Jesus who said, "I am come that [you] might have life and that [you] might have it more abundantly" (John 10:10 KJV).
Related to that is this tradition of designating the second Sunday of Easter (which some liturgical calendars call "Low Sunday") as "Holy Humor Sunday." We bring bells and noisemakers of all sorts and use them heartily at any points in the service that reflect celebration -- "alleluia" and "joy." The resurrection is comedy of the best sort, the unexpected reversal of expectations. Mary comes to the tomb on Easter morning expecting to find a dead body. Her train of thought keeps barreling along one track, and she almost literally stumbles over the risen Lord. That is humor of the highest order. Resurrection reverses the expectation of gloom and doom in the face of death and instead brings celebration. Alleluia! Ring those bells!
Despite the fact that the church's lectionary of scripture readings is in a three-year cycle, the gospel lesson for the Sunday after Easter each year is the same, the story of the risen Christ's appearance to the disciples in the upper room on Easter evening, the note that Thomas happened to be absent that night, his abrupt response to the claim of resurrection, then the gathering one week later with Thomas now in attendance, the reappearance of the risen Christ, and the doubter's wonderful "about face" (or perhaps better, "about faith"). "My Lord and my God" (v. 28).
Thomas ... doubting Thomas. I have always felt sorry for him. One incident, one remark, after a particularly traumatic experience ... the murder of his master ... has tarred him ever since. It makes no difference that the rest of his life was marked by faithful service to his Lord. Thomas became doubting Thomas, and his name has been used ever since as a euphemism for the skeptic. That is not very fair.
The first time we encounter Thomas is in chapter 11 of John. Jesus had just been informed that his friend, Lazarus, was so sick that he was about to die. Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, were in Bethany near Jerusalem, but Jesus and the disciples were some miles away over across the Jordan. They had gone there to escape the hostility of the temple leaders who had recently tried to have Jesus stoned. Word finally came that it was too late, Lazarus was dead. Two days went by. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Jesus said, "Let's go over to Bethany to see Lazarus."
"Wait a minute," the disciples say. "It is too risky. You are liable to be killed if you go that near to Jerusalem."
But Jesus responds, "Lazarus is asleep and I must go to wake him."
Now the group is even more confused. "What do you mean, you have to go and wake him? If he is asleep, that means he is going to get better."
But then Jesus explains, "I do not mean asleep asleep; I mean asleep dead. Let's go."
The twelve know how dangerous it is to make such a trip ... especially if it is only to pay last respects. But here we meet Thomas for the first time, the same Thomas we have called the doubter all these many centuries, and what do we find? No doubter now. We find a Thomas who says to the rest, "Let us also go ... that we may die with him" (John 11:16). Thomas, a faithful friend, faithful even unto death.
The next time we find Thomas mentioned in scripture is in chapter 14 of John. The apostles had gathered to celebrate the Passover. Their master was trying to explain to them that the task for which he had come to earth was about to be undertaken. Jesus would be leaving them -- he would be returning to the bosom of the Father, but he was doing it so these twelve, as well as all the countless others who would believe throughout history, would be able to join him there.
It might have been very easy for them all to just let Jesus keep on talking in hopes that they would somehow begin to understand. You can almost climb inside a disciple's mind as he hears about "My father's house" and "many dwelling places" and "going to prepare a place" and so on, wondering just what in the world Jesus is talking about, but being afraid to sound stupid by asking a question. Fortunately, we have Thomas. Not doubting Thomas but thoughtful Thomas. If he had a question, he would ask it ... even when no one else would.
"Wait a minute, Lord," says Thomas. "We don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" (John 14:5).
That is a good question ... and it got a tremendous answer: "I am the way ... the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). Yes, Thomas was thoughtful ... and that is good. A faith that requires acceptance without thinking is not faith, it is gullibility.
Now we meet Thomas for the third time in the gospel account. The other disciples tell him that Jesus is risen from the dead. But Thomas cannot believe it. It is not as if the man refuses to accept the possibility of the dead being raised; after all, he had seen that very thing happen with the daughter of Jairus and the son of the widow of Nain ... and he had seen it with Lazarus.
But this was different. Jesus had not died of natural causes ... causes that could somehow miraculously be reversed by the intervention of the Son of God. This was murder -- spears and nails and a cross. A thoughtful man would have to say that this kind of death is not reversible ... and Thomas tells the others precisely that. "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe. Think about it, people, this is just not possible!" Thus, we get doubting Thomas ... not faithful friend Thomas or thoughtful Thomas but doubting Thomas. Not very fair.
Perhaps Thomas' real problem was that he was devastated by what had happened and would not admit it. Not to his friends, not even to himself. He was so devastated that he could not see what had to be the sheer joy on his friends' faces. After all, what they experienced in meeting the resurrected Jesus totally changed them. It was their encounter with the risen Lord that empowered them to publicly and powerfully proclaim the good news, the news that, over time would turn the world upside down. But Thomas could not see that joy.
No doubt there are folks in our church pews in exactly the same boat. Life has dealt some crushing blows -- marriages are breaking, homes are splitting, jobs are dissolving, addictions are overpowering, diseases are devastating, grief is becoming despair. We may call ourselves Easter people but it still looks like a Good Friday world.
The message of the gospel to those who cannot see the Easter joy is, "Open your eyes!" See what God has done. Celebrate it. Even laugh about it. Yes! Laugh, Thomas, laugh.
That is a reminder we all need from time to time. Life can be so burdensome; we can be depressed, discouraged, despondent; we can get so far down that we cannot remember up! Then along comes a day like this one. A day for laughter and light-heartedness, for comedy and craziness, a day to celebrate the victory of the resurrection over death and the grave, a day to join our voices with the God who "sits in the heavens and laughs," a day to remember the word of Jesus who said, "I am come that [you] might have life and that [you] might have it more abundantly" (John 10:10 KJV).
