A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
Sermon
I have often been struck by how deep a love our Christian foremothers and forefathers had for the religious symbolism of blood. One can flip through old hymnals and see a plethora of hymns with titles like “There’s Power in the Blood,” “Nothing But the Blood,” “Washed in the Blood,” “Saved by the Blood,” “Covered by the Blood,” “When I See the Blood,” and “Oh, the Blood of Jesus.” That’s just the short list. I remember in my high school biology class I used to get queasy in the microscope lab just by pricking my finger for a blood sample. If I were to actually visualize the images, I think I would have trouble making it through some of them without fainting.
Evidently, previous generations had stronger stomachs than I do. In the case of the disciples, they not only had strong stomachs, they had a most peculiar orientation to blood at least the blood of Jesus. This can be seen in looking at the juxtaposition of the two sentences in verse 20 of today’s scripture. The first of these tells us that Jesus showed the disciples the wounds on his hands and side. The very next sentence tells us that the disciples then rejoiced. Wounds, rejoicing? Why would John portray the disciples as rejoicing after seeing the open wounds of Jesus? Rather than taking the story as historical or literal, I believe it makes more sense to treat it as a story designed to convey the celebration of a community that knew well the reality of death yet believed that death could not contain the life and power of Jesus.
The persecuted community of John was not in a position where it could easily forget the crucifixion. Violence was too much a part of their own reality for them to forget it. Thus, they imagined the risen Christ appearing triumphant, yet still bearing the marks of his suffering. Christ is both the Resurrected One and the Crucified One. The disciples rejoiced not because of the wounds of death but because the wounds of death had been overcome. I have long felt that as a Christian one can’t have the good news without first having the bad news. Just as there would not have been the good news of the Kingdom of God without the bad news of the Roman Empire, there wouldn’t have been the celebration of the resurrection without the sorrow of the crucifixion.
In our mainstream media, we get plenty of images of violence, even if they are usually of the fictional or sensational variety. Yet, amidst all of this violence, we rarely get any glimpses of the grace and hope that exist despite it. One of the great theologians of the last century was a German theologian named Dorothee Soelle who died in 2003. In a book entitled Choosing Life, Soelle read the resurrection story in light of the life and death of Joe Hill, a songwriter in the United States during the early part of the 20th century who was framed and executed as a result of his labor activism. Before dying, Hill wrote his will in the form of a poem that was later set to music. In his will, he answered the question of what he wanted done with his body:
Oh. – If I could choose
I would to ashes it reduce
And let the merry breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow
Perhaps some fading flower then
Would come to life and bloom again
In imagining his ashes giving life to a flower, Hill hoped for a kind of resurrection, of new life after death. Yet, the story of his resurrection does not end there. Like the gospels, over time his story turned into legend and his resurrection became amplified not to deceive anyone but to simply celebrate the continuation of his life despite death. In a song written after his death entitled “Joe Hill,” the lyrics sound almost as if they were sung by a disciple after having encountered the resurrected Christ. The singer begins the song by saying that he dreamed he saw Joe Hill “last night, Alive as you or me.” The singer then tells of the exchange he had with Hill that is in some ways similar to the exchange between Thomas and Jesus. The singer expresses his doubts that it is really Hill. He recalls for Hill that he has been dead ten years, that he was framed and charged for murder, that he was killed by the bosses of the copper mines. With each doubt expressed by the singer, Hill responds that he never died. He says that it “takes more than guns to kill a man.” In the remaining verses of the song, the nature of Joe Hill’s resurrection is then depicted:
And standing there as big as life
And smiling with his eyes
Says Joe, “What they forgot to kill
Went on to organize
……………………
“Joe Hill ain’t dead,” he says to me,
“Joe Hill ain’t never died.
Where working men are out on strike
Joe Hill is at their side
……………………
From San Diego up to Maine,
In every mine and mill –
Where working men defend their rights
It’s there you’ll find Joe Hill.
……………………
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you or me
Says I, “But Joe, you’re ten years dead”,
“I never died,” says he.
“I never died,” says he.
In the not so distant past in this country, striking workers were killed on a regular basis. It was not uncommon to open up a newspaper on almost any day and see a notice of a worker who had been killed. Like the community in which the Gospel of John was written, violence was all around, but amidst that violence one could still find grace and hope. One couldn’t read about that grace and hope in the New York Times, but one could hear about it in the folk songs sung by workers.
In her book, Soelle talks about how there are “islands of resurrection.” Here and there she saw these islands in society. She saw them among the “growing number of people” who were “forming groups” that broke “with the old culture” and rejected “its standards of education, career, income, and way of living.” She saw them among the French priests who shared their lives with the working poor and struggled alongside them. She saw them among those who renounced their middle class privileges. She saw them among those who formed worker cooperatives so that they could more fully embody their ideals in their daily lives.
Today, we might add other examples from around the world, from places that have suffered their share of suffering and violence, yet have managed to find new life and hope. In 2001, Argentina underwent a financial collapse. Thousands of factories were closed. Millions of jobs were lost. Out of this arose an inspiring movement of workers who took ownership and control of more than 180 factories, despite violence and repression. More than 10,000 workers gained employment and a newfound sense of pride. From their cooperative-run businesses, we can now even buy products on the internet. Then, if we look to Brazil, we can see the largest social movement in Latin America, the Landless Workers Movement. With its estimated 1.5 million members, the Landless Workers Movement has won land titles for more than 350,000 families. That’s 350,000 families with land for housing, farms, and a way out of poverty. All of this happened despite the assassinations of over 1,000 landless peasants in the 1990s. Throughout Latin America, one can find islands of resurrection. In countries like Venezuela and Ecuador, there has recently been a flourishing of democracy from the grassroots that exceeds anything in the United States. There is much we can learn from Latin America.
Next week you will hear the sequel to this sermon preached by Israel Alvaran who will talk about the risen Christ he has seen closer to home among the immigrants of this country. But for now let us think about this church as an island of resurrection, a place that is haven from society, where care is given to the sick and dying, where new life is seen and celebrated in children, where concern for the homeless is made manifest in service, where opposition to the war is turned into action. In many ways, our island is doing quiet well.
The disciples, on the other hand, were not doing so well. When Jesus visited the disciples, they were on an island of sorts, but it wasn’t an island of resurrection. It was an island of fear. They were afraid of persecution. All the doors were shut, but then Jesus appeared. He came bearing the gifts that would transform their island of fear into an island of resurrection. He came bearing peace, forgiveness, and the Holy Spirit. But Jesus didn’t let them just stay there as if they were on some kind of island resort, with all of the troubles of the world out of sight and out of mind. Jesus said, “As God has sent me, so I send you.” Soelle suggests that Jesus is portrayed as still having wounds in order to symbolize how the Kingdom of God had not yet been completed. Whether or not that is the case, Jesus sent out the disciples to do the continued work of building the Kingdom of God.
The disciples had their island of resurrection, but that island was not simply a safe harbor. It was to be their base of operations, their port of action. Once their island had become a place of resurrection, they were finally able to haul up the anchor of doubt and raise up the sail of faith. If Jesus were here today, I imagine he would tell us, “The waters may be rough, but set sail. The tides may be strong, but set sail. The storm winds may be fierce, but set sail. Raise the sail of faith! Set sail! My brothers and sisters, set sail! Amen.