2B Easter                                       John 20:19-31                                     April 19th, 2009

I want to talk about twins this morning. Not the Minnesota Twins—it is too early in the season for that sort of thing.
But rather I want to talk about twins as in brothers and brothers or sisters and sisters and even brother and sister, that sort of twin. If any of you have had twins, or know parents who have had twins, you can imagine what a double joy and a double challenge they must be. Recently, thanks to Facebook, I have reconnected with a couple of buddies of mine from High School who were twins and I suspect they might have fallen into the ‘challenging’ category at times for their parents. (This is where I find out if they ever read these sermons on line!?)

I bring this up because the gospel reading this morning seems to go out of the way to point out to us that Thomas was a twin. This has caused me to sometimes wonder why John felt this was an important detail to include. Maybe his twin was someone of some importance or infamy? I suppose because we don’t know it lead it open for some speculation, which, to be honest, is something I will probably do.

We know it wasn’t Peter and Andrew, or James and John, because they’re listed as brothers and not triplets. Thomas could have been Matthew’s twin, let’s say; or maybe, more intriguingly, how about Mary Magdalene, his twin sister? Or perhaps it was Judas Iscariot, and that’s why the twin’s name isn’t mentioned. But, like I suggested, that’s all speculation because really don’t know.

None of this explains the real reason that the gospel writer made a point to mentioning that Thomas was a twin. There’s another reason that’s more profound. To the question “Who is Thomas’s twin?” The answer between the lines is evidently meant to be “us”! We are Thomas’s twin, for all of us are a mixture of fear and doubt, pessimism and trust, belief and unbelief.
And that’s a difficult place to be, because for every one of us, our human condition has such a hankering for certainty.

We see this need for certainty is not limited to matters of faith, as it can be found in everything from the sciences to relationships, to campaign counts and recounts and recounts. In so many areas of our lives, but let’s limit to matters of faith this morning, we find ourselves saying to ourselves or to others: “If only I had the certainty of some sign.” And this leads to the question;
“What kind of certainty?” And we respond;  “Well, a sign, for example, that there is a God.
With all the nonsense and hardships and difficulty in life and the sense that the world is going to hell in a hand basket there are times when it is hard to imagine that God would allow all this.
That’s why it would be nice to have a sign, an unmistakable sign. I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to know for certain that it’s going to be all right in the end?” And maybe that’s at the core of our uncertainty, wondering and wanting to know that in the end that every thing will be all right, that the good people will be rewarded, that virtue will be vindicated and just maybe the evil people will finally get what’s coming to them?

Let me stop for a moment and say that the aforementioned meandering conversation is in fact dripping with really sloppy theology, but that’s what crosses our minds, right? I would be willing to venture that most of us could put up with most of the challenges and struggles in life if we knew that in the end it was going to be all right. When you consider all the absurdities in life:
§    People starving in a world that in reality is overflowing with food;
§    A world where the innocent are the victims of power struggles between thugs;
§    Where the rich titans of industry are bailed out for being reckless and irresponsible while working class folks who are trying to squeak by are getting foreclosed;
§    Where children die too soon and those who pray daily to go home, continue to linger.
As absurd as all this may be—most of us could hang in there if—if only we knew that at the end God would have the final vindicating word and would be all right.

Who among us would like to be certain that our spouse, without a shadow of a doubt, really loves us, that we really count to somebody in this world, that no matter what happens, there’s some body who loves us with a deep and unalloyed and unconditional love. We want to be the apple the sun, the moon, of somebody’s eye. If we had that as a certainty, we could put up with an awful lot, couldn’t we?

But the fact is we don’t have that certainty, and so we become Thomas’ s twin. And what does the scripture say about that condition? Well, as usual, the Scripture doesn’t give us a direct answer; it leaves room for faith. But we get in this gospel at least some hints and approaches, some commentary about dealing with uncertainty.

As I looked at this reading one of the more obvious commentaries in the gospel—again, you can read between the lines—is that Thomas was absent. Now there could have been a number of good and legitimate reasons as to why he was absent. After all things had pretty much fallen apart once Jesus was arrested and the disciples fled in multiple directions. You can only imagine the depth of anyone of the disciples’ sadness and perhaps depression. And maybe Thomas needed to be alone and for that reason he had withdrawn—much as any one of us might have done during times of loss. Having said that, and in light of how the gospel sympathizes, the fact it, he missed out.
The fact is, not being a part of the church of fellowship, Thomas missed out. And that is always a mistake.

With warmer weather upon us, and the summer months looming, I know I am going to hear about worshiping God on the lake, in the woods, or the golf course, or where ever it is that we escape to when the opportunity arises. I can appreciate that. Escaping is good every once in a while.
But, the message between the lines is more often than not one of “I don’t have to go to church. I can worship God in my own way.”

When I hear this I am reminded of the story of the pastor or priest that went to visit one of the old saints that had fallen away from regular worship for no apparent reason. It was an awkward visit for both of them as they sat by the fire on a cold winter day. Finally the man of the cloth picked up one of the fireplace tongs and reached in and removed one of the burning embers and placed outside on the stone hearth. As both of them watched, in a very short time the ember went out.
For the ember to maintain itself it needed the fellowship of the other embers.

And this was Thomas’s mistake. Even though he was depressed and withdrawn and shattered, he should not have left the fellowship because he could never find his way by himself. No matter how confident we might be, the truth is: We were not baptized to fly solo, but rather we were baptized into the body of Christ because faith is gained and shared and matured in fellowship, with others.

One of the most helpful insights I have gained over the years is that doubt is not the opposite of faith, but rather doubt is but a seed that helps faith grow and mature. Or, to put another way, faith is doubt positioned in hope. And where does hope come from? First and foremost it comes from the Holy Spirit, but from there it is nurtured and with the help of other people, fellow Christians.
Let’s face it, we all have our doubts, but to cope with them, we need each other. And I believe it is also helpful to remember that the Bible is filled with famous doubters, from Job to Jonah-- people who have not been afraid to question and wrestle, demonstrating a sort of spiritual earnestness. And, if we are in fact, “spiritual twins” to Thomas, it means that we come by our doubting honestly!

A few years back after Mother Teresa died, there were a number of articles published from her journals that brought to light some of the doubts that she wrestled with over the years.
One such entry she wrote; “I am told the God lives in me—and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul.”
On another occasion she wrote: “Where I try to raise my thoughts to heaven, there is such convincing emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul.”

Do these sound like the words and thoughts of a woman who has done so much to aid the lives of millions in the name of Christ? And yet they are. Which is reminder to all of us that even those we look up to as models and pillars of faith wrestle with questions and doubts when it comes to matters of faith.

In the case of Mother Teresa and her doubts I believe it is helpful to remember that even though she had her doubts, she did not suffer in silence, she did not cut her self off from others.
Instead she turned to the fellowship and guidance of others. She wrote to her spiritual mentors, she asked for help, she sought the help of other Christians—from people of faith who had also experienced doubts.

It is also important to note that she preserved in walking and serving by faith. For almost fifty years she continued to put one foot in front of another carrying out her mission and ministry of caring for the poor. She did not allow her doubts to stop her in her tracks. She continued serving to the glory of God and trusting that the Holy Spirit would continue to nurture and inspire her faith.

It might be just coincidence, but Thomas and Teresa had something else in common. Teresa had her ministry among the very poorest people of India and according to early tradition; Thomas was the first missionary to India.

So what can we learn from all this?
I believe the most obvious is that doubts are normal and helpful. That when we are honest in our quest for answers, we will question and we will doubt and in the end we will grow in faith. Our faith will grow deeper and we will mature in our faith, and a mature faith will helps us when life serves up times of hardship and distress. And we will find that while life is filled with uncertainty, that’s OK, when we walk by faith.

I also believe that when we find ourselves wrestling with doubts, the last thing we should do is separate ourselves from the community of faith. For it is at times such as these that we need one another all the more. When my faith is being tested, I need you and visa versa. When your doubts begin to overwhelm you, the best support comes from those who have traveled a similar path and can support you and guide you. In other words, as our Canadian friend Red Green is apt to say, “We’re all in this together”

And lastly, and this I believe is the most important thing that we can learn is that Jesus comes to us in the midst of our doubts and our travail. He comes not to condemn but to help to grant us peace. And sometimes he comes in ways we might never have imagined.

§    To Thomas, our twin, he came personally—in the flesh.
§    To Mother Teresa he came in the form of a child who needed teaching—and a leper who needed shelter—and an old person who needed help with dying.
§    Christ might come to you one day as a person who helps you—and on another day as a person who needs your help.
§    Christ might come to you as a helpful words from this pulpit—or as kind word of comfort and prayer during a time of grieving—or as the bread and wine of Holy Communion.

Regardless of how and where Christ comes to you and me, rest assured even in our darkest moments—Christ is present. Reaching out to us. Offering to lift us up. Offering to walk with us and giving us the gift of new life in his resurrected life. And this, my brothers and sisters and twins: is something we claim is most certainly true.
Thanks be to God! Amen

Pastor Stephen Blenkush
Zion Lutheran Church
Milaca, MN
www.ZionMilaca.org

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