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John 20:19-31
William James was a prominent 19th century American
philosopher. A story is told that after
a lecture he gave on cosmology and the structure of the solar system, James was
accosted by a little old lady.
"Your
theory that the sun is the center of the solar system, and the earth is a ball
which rotates around it has a very convincing ring to it, Mr. James, but it's
wrong. I've got a better theory," said the little old lady.
"And
what is that, madam?" inquired James politely.
"That
we live on a crust of earth which is on the back of a giant turtle."
Not
wishing to demolish this absurd little theory by bringing to bear the masses of
scientific evidence he had at his command, James decided to gently dissuade his
opponent by making her see some of the inadequacies of her position.
"If
your theory is correct, madam," he asked, "what does this turtle
stand on?"
"You're
a very clever man, Mr. James, and that's a very good question," replied
the little old lady, "but I have an answer to it. And it's this: The first
turtle stands on the back of a second, far larger, turtle, who stands directly
under him."
"But
what does this second turtle stand on?" persisted James patiently.
To
this, the little old lady crowed triumphantly,
"It's
no use, Mr. James—it's turtles all the way down."[1]
An
infinite progression of turtles. People believe many interesting things, from
the sublime to the ridiculous. And we cling to our deepest held beliefs
tenaciously and passionately. And that is never more true than in the whole
arena of religion. In fact, in our culture, we have made “religion” and
“belief” almost synonymous. Do we believe in God, do we believe in Christ, do
we believe in heaven . . . how we answer such questions defines our religion,
at least in the popular mind. And certainly what we believe is important. Every
week we recite the Nicene Creed together, beginning with “We believe in one
God.” But our religious life is about more than just belief. If being a
Christian, a person in Christ, just means intellectually assenting to a set of
beliefs and doctrines, we are missing something crucial. And I think this story
about Thomas illustrates what that something is.
On
the surface, it seems pretty straightforward: Thomas doesn’t believe that Jesus
has been raised from the dead; he sees Jesus; and then he believes. But this is
John’s Gospel, and John’s Gospel always dives below the surface, and there is a
lot going on here that is not so straightforward. For example, is the message
here that Jesus will give us all physical evidence so that we will believe in
his resurrection? Clearly not: only a handful of people saw the risen Christ:
the vast majority of Christians have not. Is the message, then, that we should
believe the witness of that small group of people? Well, we can believe them,
of course, but that may not be sufficient: remember, even Thomas didn’t believe
the other disciples when they told him that Jesus had been raised from the
dead, and they were his close companions. If he didn’t believe them, why should
we? And besides all that, what brings Thomas back to that locked room anyway,
what keeps Thomas engaged enough to even want proof? There is something at work
here that goes deeper than belief, and the best word we have for that something
is faith.
Faith
is openness to God, a willingness to live towards God. Psalm 46 says: Be still, and know that I am God. Such
knowing is more fundamental than any belief or doctrine. It is faith that keeps
Thomas coming back, faith that allows him to raise the doubts he raises. We see
a similar dynamic in Mark’s Gospel with the father of the epileptic boy. It is
faith that allows him to say, I believe.
Help my unbelief! And it has certainly been my experience that it is not
belief that has caused me to have faith, but rather that faith has led me into
belief. After all, we are not born with a belief in the Incarnation or in the
one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church, but we are born with a capacity for
God, a natural orientation towards God. The seeds of faith have been within us
from the beginning. And it doesn’t have to be great faith: Jesus says that
faith the size of a mustard seed is all we need. And we all have it — we all
have it — which is why Jesus can connect with everyone, even with sinners,
Gentiles, and non-believers. He touches that core of faith within all of us.
And it’s because of that core of faith that Jesus can say in today’s Gospel: Have you believed because you have seen me?
Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. Blessed
are those whose faith has led them to believe.
I
want to encourage you this Easter season to use the faith you have within you.
And we do that by any act of intention, any act that consciously points us to
God. That could be a prayer, a word of thanksgiving, an act of trust, an
expression of repentance, a deliberate decision to love. Whenever we do
anything for the sake of God or anything that is directed towards God, even
crying out “Help me believe!”, it
nourishes our innate faith. And the more we nurture and cultivate faith, the
more our faith will lead us into deeper belief. That’s true no matter where we
are on the spiritual journey. It’s true if we are committed Christians who are
convinced that Jesus is risen and alive; it’s true if we are struggling to
believe that there is a God at all. God will meet us where we are and lead us
into deeper belief, if we are willing to act on the faith we have, even if that
only means asking questions and raising doubts. God will help us to know that
Jesus is alive, not as a creedal box we check off, but as a living reality. God
will help us to know that the Spirit of the Risen Christ dwells within us, not
as a doctrine we are supposed to believe in but as something we actually
experience. It is God, working through our faith, who will show us these
things, far more than any creed, book, class, or sermon could ever do. And may
God continue to do that for each and every one of us.
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