My Lord and My God

 In many ways we are just like Thomas. We really don’t want to come by our faith "second hand" (John 20:19-31). Our parents taught us that things worth having are worth working for? So in keeping with our Gospel reading we ask, is there really such a thing as “blind faith?” For many of us, our religion was chosen for us by our parents or inherited through our family tradition, but our faith is ours alone.

Blind faith, if it’s faith at all, does not encourage us to probe; it denies us the opportunity to question, to know what we believe “down deep” in our “core.” Blind faith requires minimal spiritual investment and permits us to cruise through our spiritual journey without the opportunity to really live on the spiritual edge of life. True faith requires knowing what we believe, beyond any doubt and with no way of being able to really explain in words. So Thomas’ in refusing to accept what he was being told and say that he understood what he did not, exhibited an honesty that prompted his need to know and understand for himself 

Thomas wasn’t the faithless doubter of the Bible. The so-called faithful disciples remained locked up in the upper room hiding in fear. Fear not doubt, gets in the way of our letting the Holy Spirit take charge. Where did Thomas go while others were hiding? What prompted him to return to his community? Was Thomas “working” at trying to know what he was asked to believe? Thomas wanted the experience of a deeper vision or sight. He was unwilling to blindly accept; it had to be real for him.

True faith is based on trust in God. True faith knows we can deepen our faith by asking critical questions of our traditions and our “inherited” belief propositions. We do this by leaving our comfort zones and living in a new reality, challenging us to know what we believe so  with Thomas, we too can personally acclaim “My Lord and my God.”

He has Risen, Alleluia

 It’s only natural to think of Easter and the Resurrection as a miracle; after all Christ’s rising from the dead is beyond extraordinary and solely in   the province of God. Yet, calling Easter a miracle makes the event exclusively God’s and removes us from having anything to do with it. I don’t believe that this is God’s intent since the incarnation of God in Jesus and His death and resurrection were for humanity's salvation and benefit and not God's. God performs miracles but men celebrate sacraments and while God may work a miracle apart from man, man is essential to the presence of a sacrament in that a sacrament requires our participation for its existence. 

Easter is sacramental every time one of us reaches out to lighten another's burden no matter how large or small. Easter is sacramental when our words heal, when our hearts understand, when lesser values die in us for the sake of greater realities. We are sacramental with Easter when men know us to be faithful. We are sacramental with Easter when we sacrifice for one another and not for selfish advantage. Easter is never more sacramental than when one man gives/devotes his life for another. Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus through their words and deeds. 

John Calvin wrote that in becoming Son of man with us, he made us sons of God with him; that by his descent to earth, he has prepared an ascent to heaven for us; that by taking on out mortality, he has conferred his immortality upon us; that accepting our weakness, he has strengthened us by his power; that receiving our poverty unto himself, he has transferred our wealth to us; that taking the weight of our iniquity upon himself (which oppressed us), he has clothed us with his righteousness. (Kruger, The Shack Revisited, p. 197) 

Jesus became incarnate to not only teach us how to live our lives but to reside in God through Jesus and lift us up into a life of communion with the very triune life of God. When we say “in him through him and with him” at the Eucharist, we are reminded of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection. (John 20:1-9). 

(Adapted from Dawn without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, p78)

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The Power of Love vs The Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate, the governor in the time of Jesus, who led the parade riding a white stallion, a symbol of Rome’s dominance. The parade was a reminder to the Jews not to cause trouble during Passover. As if to challenge Roman oppression, Jesus rode a donkey, a lowly beast of burden, in the opposite direction, entering through the gate from which Pilate exited. (Mark 11:1-10)

 Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control; however, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in the love of God. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade. The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking Pilate. 

Contrary to some long-held beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he took and continues to take our place for the trials of our human existence. So then, why the cross? The cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers to “cease and desist.” Ironically, in the first century AD the cross was reviled as an image to be kept out of sight as it, on the surface, was a grim reminder of the despicable event on Good Friday. In time, however, the cross became the central symbol of our faith…a symbol that reminds us that the journey does not end with Jesus’ death but we, along with Jesus are resurrected to eternal life. The cross reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a “nobody” who was raised up as we will be. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

 

Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.