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After having celebrated Easter last Sunday, we begin here in this first Sunday after Easter to hear about the appearances by the resurrected Jesus to the apostles. First appearing to only a few people, and then, apparently, to many hundred more.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus appears to people in this order: first, Mary Magdalene on Easter morning; then, later that day, to a group of disciples in a locked room; then a week later to disciples again in the same place; finally, to seven disciples at some unspecified later point. Having heard about Mary Magdalene last week, today we hear about the second and third of these appearances of Jesus, both to disciples in a locked room.
Either of these appearances would have been shocking, I would guess, but one would imagine especially the first one. Imagine them all huddled together on Easter night. Having seen what they had seen on Good Friday, but perhaps also having heard the rumors of that morning’s events, I imagine they were agitated, frightened of being victims of the persecution that had already claimed the life of Jesus. The doors were locked tight, John says; they were in hiding, hoping no one would find them. With no doors open, and presumably no windows either, it was probably hot and stuffy in there: a closed-up room with stale air and the sour smell of crowded bodies and fear. No doubt they were trying to stay quiet, but still speaking in urgent whispers. This is how I imagine it: a bunch of agitated people in close quarters, confused and frightened.
Then suddenly in this crowded, stuffy room another person is there with them: Jesus, their friend who they knew had been crucified. “Peace be with you,” he says, and they probably needed a lot of peace to be with them right then. One can imagine the frenetic room becoming completely still as every face turns toward him. Every face that Jesus has seen before, loved before. Every face in that room revealing the contents of every heart. And perhaps from the looks on those faces, Jesus discerned some doubt. So he showed them the print the nails made on his human flesh, and then they knew it was Jesus, and they were glad. Jesus breathes on them then, giving to them the Holy Ghost, as he had promised he would. From that moment, one imagines them with the Easter cry ever on their lips: Alleluia! The Lord is risen!
And so, with this dramatic scene having been accomplished, and the disciples given their commission, it would seem that the next appearance that Jesus makes in that room, a week later, is unnecessary—gratuitous, redundant, and kind of anti-climactic. As I’ve said, there are four resurrection appearances in John, and in three of them Jesus does something really interesting, or gives instructions that aren’t given elsewhere, and they all occur in different places. Mary Magdalene was told to go tell the disciples about Jesus while in the garden; the disciples were told to go be apostles when they’re in the locked room; Peter was told to “feed my sheep” there on the beach. But nothing much different happens in this third resurrection appearance. It’s like it’s tacked on.
What’s more, the recounting of the two appearances in today’s gospel are just kind of stuck up against each other in the story, with nothing between them. As you heard, there is no narrative transition, or explanation of what has happened in the one week that separates them. I would have thought that it would be a pretty momentous week, worth recording. But no description is given of what Jesus or the disciples had been up to. No description of what the effects of the sending of the Spirit have been for the last few days. Instead, immediately we hear how Jesus appears in the locked room again, and the disciples are there again, and Jesus says “peace be unto you” again.
The only difference in the context of this third resurrection appearance is the presence of Thomas. Doubting Thomas. It makes me wonder if this repeated scene, presented in this redundant and otherwise unnecessary way, is St. John suggesting that the main reason that Jesus appears in the locked room a second time is because Thomas is there. All of Jesus’ work had already been done, including the incredibly important sending of the Spirit. The point to the disciples had been made already. But Thomas—absent from the earlier scene, gone off somewhere else like a sheep who had wandered off into the woods—Thomas wasn’t onboard yet. So Jesus—like the good shepherd who won’t give up on even the errant sheep—Jesus goes back to that stuffy room for him, and perhaps just for him. Jesus won’t let Thomas be left behind.
If that’s the case, then perhaps Thomas’ subsequent declaration of faith—that Jesus is “my Lord and my God”—that may not just be a reaction to seeing Christ’s wounds. It may also be the result of Thomas seeing Jesus, after his resurrection, acting out for him the kind of saving love for his people that he had talked about during his life. Because Jesus went back for Thomas. Sure, Thomas had wandered off. He wouldn’t believe the other disciples. He asked for proof. But Jesus wouldn’t give up on him.
Maybe it’s because Thomas is the errant sheep, who the good shepherd goes to get, maybe that’s why Thomas is the one—the first one in that gospel—who realizes who Jesus is in full: “My Lord and my God.” This is a new way of talking about Jesus of Nazareth, and it’s Thomas—of all people!—who comes up with it. There is something about that saving relationship itself, and not just the presence of the wounds of the resurrected Christ that he had previously been looking for, that makes doubting Thomas believe that Jesus is the very revelation of God, that Jesus Christ is God incarnate. Because he came back for him.
Perhaps Thomas saw that their relationship was, in miniature, reflective of the overarching story of salvation. Choosing Israel from among all nations, and then going to get her back even after she turned away from the Lord. Establishing creation, and then, after creation’s free will introduced sin into the world, becoming incarnate, as created, in order to reconcile creation to the creator. Becoming incarnate, and not letting the world’s rejection be the final word, but bringing eternal life out of death. Going back. This recurring theme, which had been happening on a world-historical scale, is telescoped down to become personal and intimate between Thomas and Jesus.
By setting up the story this way, it’s as if St. John wants us to know that Jesus doesn’t want a relationship with “people,” abstractly considered. He wants a relationship with you, and he doesn’t give up. If it takes going back to the same place and repeating himself, that’s what he’ll do. If at first he doesn’t succeed, he’ll try, try again. And he’ll do it for everyone, including the dubious and the skeptical and the faithless. In fact, he may do it especially for them—especially for us.
On Easter Day we celebrated the saving power of the resurrection of Jesus for the whole world. Here on the second Sunday of Easter, we celebrate that the risen Jesus makes that saving power personal.