Many of us who call him Lord have a hard enough time thinking of Jesus as fully human when he was alive.  But to imagine his resurrected body in-the-flesh is a real stretch.  We might even wonder why that’s important.  But clearly it was important to the writer of John’s gospel.  When Mary Magdalene saw Jesus outside the tomb, she didn’t mistake him for a ghost but for the gardener, an earthy kind of guy.  Later, when Jesus appeared to the disciples, they saw the wounds in his hands and side.  His resurrection was no escape from the body, as if God had somehow snatched him from his shell, spared him pain and suffering on the cross.  If that were the case, then our lives on earth might seem like a necessary evil before the uncontaminated afterlife of our souls.  But no, Jesus’ resurrection wasn’t denial but redemption of the body, a summons to all who would follow to embrace life in the flesh, scars and all.  The resurrected Christ bore in his resurrected body the marks of his life and death as the Son of God. 

Thomas could hardly believe it.  The other disciples had seen Jesus and told Thomas the good news.  But Ann had to see it—I mean, Thomas had to see it for himself . . . and that he did.  A week later, the disciples were all together again, with Thomas among them, when Jesus appeared, a dead man walking.  There had been no doubt that Jesus died.  Everybody knew that.  But there was speculation that someone had stolen his body.  It made more sense than to believe he had risen from the dead.  But now Thomas had new truth to face.  The man standing before him was no imposter, but Jesus in the flesh. 

Now, there is a difference between the sort of doubt that cripples a person from any kind of commitment and that doubt which is a natural outgrowth of reason.  Like-wise, there is a difference between believing a religious doctrine with your mind and believing in God with all of your being.  

It’s worth examining what Jesus means when he says to Thomas, “Do not doubt, only believe.”  The word here translated “believe” is really better understood as “faith,” only we don’t have a verb for it in English.  It’s not merely a cognitive decision but a matter of trust.  The word “doubt” isn’t adequate either.  What Jesus warns Thomas against is a continual withholding of trust or faith.  When Jesus tells Thomas not to doubt, he’s not saying, “Don’t ask questions.” It’s something more like this: “Don’t continue to resist what you now know is true.  Trust me.”   

I must confess that I rather like Thomas.  He has borne his own mark, of course, labeled, disapprovingly, “the doubter,” because he wasn't satisfied with the testimony of others.  Nevermind that the rest of the disciples didn't seem to believe Mary Magdalene and were only satisfied themselves when they'd had the very same opportunity Thomas sought.  The nickname might be more apropos if Thomas had left his encounter with the risen Christ unchanged, a slave to doubt.  But he didn't.  Upon seeing Jesus in his nail-scarred body, Thomas confessed with abandon, “My Lord and my God!”  He was, after all, a disciple-turned-apostle, one who was sent into the world to testify to the good news and who followed his mission unto death.  Except for John, whose end is unknown, all of the disciples—Thomas included—were martyred for their faith.  The stigma Thomas endures hardly seems fair for one who bore the stigmata.

Jesus’ violent death seemed sufficient reason for Thomas to doubt that he would ever again see Jesus walking the earth.  But Thomas had to let go of what he thought he knew with certainty in order to trust in Jesus.  This is what we help each other to do as members of the Church.  Not simply to believe a set of religious propositions, but to give ourselves over to God.  And this, it turns out, is the purpose of the entire gospel of John: that we who have not seen may come to trust Jesus on the testimony of Thomas and the other disciples and that through trusting we may have life in his name (John 20:31).

Jesus blessed those who had not seen and yet had come to faith (John 20:29).  This includes us, of course, and countless disciples since the time of Christ.  We are, all of us, dependent on the testimony of others and responsible for our own testimony to the world.  And we are all blessed, not only by Jesus but by the people, movements, and faith communities who witness to us the truth of his resurrection.  For those of us who are prone to doubt, sometimes the spoken word just won’t cut it.  We need to see Jesus living and breathing in the life of another. 

Certainly Pope John Paul II was such a figure to countless Christians around the globe, as he reached out both within and beyond the Church. With our Catholic brothers and sisters, we honor his life and mourn his death, and we pray for God’s continued guidance over the Catholic Church in the days ahead.

Another such presence in the Church today, a movement that is carrying on the work of Christ in various and unique ways, is the Lilly Endowment, perhaps more familiar to us here at Wilshire.  Based in Indianapolis, its arms reach from Dallas to Chicago, California to New York, and everywhere in-between.  If you didn't know, it currently pays all of your pastoral residents’ salaries, along with others like us across the country.  We have a joke around the office that the Lilly Endowment is “the Church’s one foundation.” 

I knew next to nothing about the Lilly Endowment before coming to Wilshire, but I've found great hope and encouragement in their work.  Their ultimate aim is the renewal of the Church in America, not through marketing gimmicks or powers of coercion, but through churches, people, and institutions, who, in their practices, are faithfully bearing the marks of Christ.  With remarkable discernment, they have sought and found what, in my mind, is the pulse of Christianity in America, all the while keeping a low profile.  They “test the spirits,” so to speak, to see where God is working, and then offer resources to support and study the movement, in hopes that what they learn will benefit the Christian community as a whole.  They invest in the work of churches, theological schools, and young ministers, and encourage youth both in their faith and in their exploration of vocation.  I, for one, have received from the Lilly Endowment far more than I can give in return, and I have found my own faith renewed through their efforts, as I hope you have also.

And speaking of you, I cannot call attention to those people, movements, and communities who bear the marks of Christ without a few words about Wilshire.  The staff, the residents, George, all of you have testified to me.  You're that kind of church.  Here among you, I have breathed in a gospel of love.  And I finally understand what it means, that perfect love casts out fear.  I have witnessed in my friendships here the kind of grace, hospitality, generosity, and forgiveness that will shake a person to her core.  And I can testify more than ever to the resurrection of Jesus, for I have seen him alive in you.  Wilshire has left an indelible impression on me, and I will bear the marks wherever I go.  Thanks be to God. 

Whatever we might say about Thomas and the other disciples before the resurrection, they did get it after they saw Jesus back from the dead.  Their encounter with Jesus did more than merely convince them of his resurrection.  In that meeting Jesus’ very life was transferred to the disciples.  They breathed in the Spirit of God that Jesus breathed upon them and went as they were sent to continue God’s work in the world.  In time they understood that they were the body of Christ, bearing the marks of Jesus’ death and resurrection in their common life.  This is the calling of the Church in all times and places.  Indeed it is by meeting together week after week and practicing the faith that we are formed in Christian identity, that we become the body of Christ. 

The great reformer, Martin Luther, said the mark of a church is two-fold, a place where the Word is rightly preached and the sacraments are rightly administered.  Baptists, often called “people of the Book,” have shied away from the language of “sacrament,” preferring instead to identify two ordinances: baptism and the Lord’s Supper.  These are practices, in any case, that identify us as Christians, a peculiar people in the world.  Whenever we witness death and new life in the baptismal pool or gather around the table to remember Jesus’ body and blood, broken and spilled out, we bear the marks of the crucified and resurrected Lord.  So also each time we forgive our neighbor and each time we echo Jesus’ greeting to the disciples: “Peace be with you.”

It is here, in this sanctuary, that we learn who we are, so that we can live authentically outside its walls.  We don’t come to church to stock up on good feelings so that we can manage the rest of the week in “the real world.”  This is the real world, and we continue in the line of faithful apostles when we go out in peace and invite others to join us in the life of the Church.  It is here that we are formed ever more in the image of Christ, that we re-member Jesus’ broken body, so that we might bear the marks of resurrection in our life together. 

Much of Christian faith is about letting go of what we know to give way to a greater truth, as Thomas did.  When we come to trust in Jesus, a faith that deepens through-out the life of a disciple, we find ourselves raised from the dead.  And as we practice God’s peace and forgiveness, we bring others back to life in Jesus’ name.  Let it be so among us, as indeed it is.  Amen.