The Value Of Doubt
Sermon
At the end of last year there was feverish speculation over what the press termed the "race" to become the new Archbishop of Canterbury. The media had soon sussed out who were the front runners and bookies were quickly offering odds on any candidate who looked as if he might have half a chance.
Those bishops who were thought to be in the running found their lives scrutinised in minute detail in the mad search to find news about them, and when it became known that the Archbishop of Wales, Rowan Williams, was the chosen man, the media was full of sensational stories about him.
There were two really controversial stories. One was that Rowan Williams is sympathetic to homosexuals and has knowingly ordained a gay priest, the other was that he was being honoured in what appeared to be a Druid ceremony at a Welsh Eisteddfodd. Right up until his enthronement in Canterbury Cathedral, there were screams for his removal from office on both counts. Then somebody discovered that the information about the Druid ceremony had been embarrassingly misconstrued, for it was nothing to do with religion but simply an academic honour in recognition of Dr Williams' poetry. So those complaints went suddenly quiet, although I don't recall hearing any public apology.
The other issues, that of gay priests, rumbles on. "The Times" journalist Ruth Gledhill said in an interview at around that time, that the Church is twenty or twenty-five years behind the times. Being gay is no longer an issue in the outside world. But there are Christians for whom it seems to be the most important issue, taking precedence over everything else. These Christians would exclude all gay priests, just as they would have excluded a gentle, academic and spiritual man from being Archbishop because he spoke up for gay priests and took part in a Welsh festival. But I wonder whether Christians who so close their minds to the outside world are in danger of turning Christianity into not a world-wide religion for all people, but into a cult?
What, if anything, distinguishes the Christian from the cult member?
One huge difference is that Christianity covers such a broad sweep of opinions. We might all believe basically in God as our bottom line, but beyond that our opinions would probably begin to diverge, even within this church, and certainly within the Church of England, let alone all the other branches of the Christian church.
This is often considered to be a weakness. How can we spread the Good News to others if we don't even agree on the content of the Good News? But I think we should celebrate the broadness of our faith.
Christianity, even from its origins in the Old Testament, has always had divergent opinions and beliefs. And it's that very divergence which keeps us safe from too gross a distortion of the truth. None of us, no branch of the Christian church, and no individual, has the whole truth. We all distort to some degree, and we all have our own insights. And it's those varying insights which help to keep our faith balanced and sane.
Just as the disciples, the community of faith, accepted and included Thomas when he refused to believe their witness about the risen Christ, so the church of Christ is inclusive, welcoming all-comers, even those who are unable or unwilling to toe the party line. The main stream churches take seriously the anti-cult words of Colossians 2:18: "Do not let anyone disqualify you, insisting on self-abasement and worship of angels, dwelling on visions."
And of course, it was in fellowship with the community of believers that Thomas eventually was able to see and believe. This same courageous Thomas, who had the integrity to stand alone and isolated in his beliefs, but also the humility to change his mind, went on to become the founder of the Christian church in India.
This gospel story of Thomas reminds me of all the people I've met in life who were right when I was wrong. Who tried to tell me something, but I wasn't in a mood to accept it or believe it. We all develop a mechanism for dealing with "I told you so!" people, or those who try to manipulate or pressurise us into belief. Their hearts are in the right place, but they want to spare us the pains of growing up. They want to spare us the struggle we all have to experience, the struggle for truth. The struggle, like Thomas, to reach our own belief.
Those who are most effective in assisting with life's journey with all its struggles, are the ones who are prepared to stand by with the bandages and the ointment ready. Those who know they can't take my place in the struggle, even though they might wish they could. Those who won't ride rough-shod over doubt or questions, even though they know it might save a lot of grief if they did. Those who are most effective provide a safe place for struggle, questions and growth, just as the disciples provided a safe place for Thomas.
But that requires a great deal of love. The sort of love cult leaders refuse to offer. Cult leaders are unable to take the risk of allowing people to think for themselves. They demand absolute unquestioning obedience to their interpretation of the Scriptures, even though they often take a small portion of the gospel and turn it into the whole package, overlooking Jesus' concern for compassion and justice and healing.
I wonder exactly what it was Thomas had such difficulty in believing? Perhaps not the resurrection. He may have been perfectly able to accept that someone had stood in the midst of the disciples. But perhaps he needed to be certain the one who was raised from the dead on the Sunday was the same one who was crucified on the Friday. Perhaps Thomas wanted to verify that the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus wasn't some cruel hoax perpetrated on a desperate humanity. Perhaps he wanted to make sure the risen and glorified Christ was also the suffering and dying Jesus.
And maybe we need that too. Show us the marks, Jesus. We need to know you're not just a God who stands above it all. We need to know you're one who knows our pain, who suffers and dies the same way we suffer and die. We need to know resurrection isn't just some game, but is truly the way through death and darkness. Show us the marks, then we'll believe.
Is it fair to make those sorts of demands on God? Maybe not, but many of us make them every day! And Jesus responds in the same way he responded to Thomas. He comes to us in our suffering and pain, because he's been there. He knows what it feels like.
People outside make this demand not only of Jesus, but of us, his church. "Show us the marks!" they say. They challenge us to demonstrate that Christianity isn't just a fairy tale religion of sweetness, light and happy endings. Because life doesn't work that way. Being a Christian isn't about being nice, but is about love and justice, about dying and rising again.
Cults are not about love and justice. Nor are they about rising again. In the end, they're about death, but nothing more. About the death of individual personality, and about the death of the desire for truth, however unpalatable that truth might turn out, to be in the necessity to stick rigidly to the rule book as they see it. Cults can't take the risk of allowing individual thought, because people might disagree with the cult leaders and go their own way, which would mean the collapse of the cult. The Church is much broader and stronger than that, and dares to face crucifixion in its desire for the truth.
And so I thank God for Thomas, the man who had the courage to ask awkward questions. And I thank God for this Church of England of ours, a church which has the courage to allow its members to think and struggle and discover for themselves.
Those bishops who were thought to be in the running found their lives scrutinised in minute detail in the mad search to find news about them, and when it became known that the Archbishop of Wales, Rowan Williams, was the chosen man, the media was full of sensational stories about him.
There were two really controversial stories. One was that Rowan Williams is sympathetic to homosexuals and has knowingly ordained a gay priest, the other was that he was being honoured in what appeared to be a Druid ceremony at a Welsh Eisteddfodd. Right up until his enthronement in Canterbury Cathedral, there were screams for his removal from office on both counts. Then somebody discovered that the information about the Druid ceremony had been embarrassingly misconstrued, for it was nothing to do with religion but simply an academic honour in recognition of Dr Williams' poetry. So those complaints went suddenly quiet, although I don't recall hearing any public apology.
The other issues, that of gay priests, rumbles on. "The Times" journalist Ruth Gledhill said in an interview at around that time, that the Church is twenty or twenty-five years behind the times. Being gay is no longer an issue in the outside world. But there are Christians for whom it seems to be the most important issue, taking precedence over everything else. These Christians would exclude all gay priests, just as they would have excluded a gentle, academic and spiritual man from being Archbishop because he spoke up for gay priests and took part in a Welsh festival. But I wonder whether Christians who so close their minds to the outside world are in danger of turning Christianity into not a world-wide religion for all people, but into a cult?
What, if anything, distinguishes the Christian from the cult member?
One huge difference is that Christianity covers such a broad sweep of opinions. We might all believe basically in God as our bottom line, but beyond that our opinions would probably begin to diverge, even within this church, and certainly within the Church of England, let alone all the other branches of the Christian church.
This is often considered to be a weakness. How can we spread the Good News to others if we don't even agree on the content of the Good News? But I think we should celebrate the broadness of our faith.
Christianity, even from its origins in the Old Testament, has always had divergent opinions and beliefs. And it's that very divergence which keeps us safe from too gross a distortion of the truth. None of us, no branch of the Christian church, and no individual, has the whole truth. We all distort to some degree, and we all have our own insights. And it's those varying insights which help to keep our faith balanced and sane.
Just as the disciples, the community of faith, accepted and included Thomas when he refused to believe their witness about the risen Christ, so the church of Christ is inclusive, welcoming all-comers, even those who are unable or unwilling to toe the party line. The main stream churches take seriously the anti-cult words of Colossians 2:18: "Do not let anyone disqualify you, insisting on self-abasement and worship of angels, dwelling on visions."
And of course, it was in fellowship with the community of believers that Thomas eventually was able to see and believe. This same courageous Thomas, who had the integrity to stand alone and isolated in his beliefs, but also the humility to change his mind, went on to become the founder of the Christian church in India.
This gospel story of Thomas reminds me of all the people I've met in life who were right when I was wrong. Who tried to tell me something, but I wasn't in a mood to accept it or believe it. We all develop a mechanism for dealing with "I told you so!" people, or those who try to manipulate or pressurise us into belief. Their hearts are in the right place, but they want to spare us the pains of growing up. They want to spare us the struggle we all have to experience, the struggle for truth. The struggle, like Thomas, to reach our own belief.
Those who are most effective in assisting with life's journey with all its struggles, are the ones who are prepared to stand by with the bandages and the ointment ready. Those who know they can't take my place in the struggle, even though they might wish they could. Those who won't ride rough-shod over doubt or questions, even though they know it might save a lot of grief if they did. Those who are most effective provide a safe place for struggle, questions and growth, just as the disciples provided a safe place for Thomas.
But that requires a great deal of love. The sort of love cult leaders refuse to offer. Cult leaders are unable to take the risk of allowing people to think for themselves. They demand absolute unquestioning obedience to their interpretation of the Scriptures, even though they often take a small portion of the gospel and turn it into the whole package, overlooking Jesus' concern for compassion and justice and healing.
I wonder exactly what it was Thomas had such difficulty in believing? Perhaps not the resurrection. He may have been perfectly able to accept that someone had stood in the midst of the disciples. But perhaps he needed to be certain the one who was raised from the dead on the Sunday was the same one who was crucified on the Friday. Perhaps Thomas wanted to verify that the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus wasn't some cruel hoax perpetrated on a desperate humanity. Perhaps he wanted to make sure the risen and glorified Christ was also the suffering and dying Jesus.
And maybe we need that too. Show us the marks, Jesus. We need to know you're not just a God who stands above it all. We need to know you're one who knows our pain, who suffers and dies the same way we suffer and die. We need to know resurrection isn't just some game, but is truly the way through death and darkness. Show us the marks, then we'll believe.
Is it fair to make those sorts of demands on God? Maybe not, but many of us make them every day! And Jesus responds in the same way he responded to Thomas. He comes to us in our suffering and pain, because he's been there. He knows what it feels like.
People outside make this demand not only of Jesus, but of us, his church. "Show us the marks!" they say. They challenge us to demonstrate that Christianity isn't just a fairy tale religion of sweetness, light and happy endings. Because life doesn't work that way. Being a Christian isn't about being nice, but is about love and justice, about dying and rising again.
Cults are not about love and justice. Nor are they about rising again. In the end, they're about death, but nothing more. About the death of individual personality, and about the death of the desire for truth, however unpalatable that truth might turn out, to be in the necessity to stick rigidly to the rule book as they see it. Cults can't take the risk of allowing individual thought, because people might disagree with the cult leaders and go their own way, which would mean the collapse of the cult. The Church is much broader and stronger than that, and dares to face crucifixion in its desire for the truth.
And so I thank God for Thomas, the man who had the courage to ask awkward questions. And I thank God for this Church of England of ours, a church which has the courage to allow its members to think and struggle and discover for themselves.
