Sermon: Peace for a Doubting World. April 27, 2025

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on April 27, the Second Sunday of Easter. You can view the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The photo was taken by on after Team Phoenix’s Opening Day victory on April 12.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. As many of you know, I am the head coach of our youngest son’s baseball team. Torsten and Team Phoenix, always ready to rise from the ashes, are currently undefeated at 3-0. They’re also currently playing a game, because Sunday mornings ain’t what they used to be. As you can plainly see, I am not there. I don’t think they’ll miss me. Truth be told, I’m not much of a baseball coach. My greatest qualification is that I said yes. What I am good at, however, is composing emails to the team parents. Did you know that a group of phoenixes can be called an odyssey? According to someone on the internet, it’s true! So, you might not be surprised to learn that, in my communications with parents, I have no trouble drawing a connection between Homer and homers and that I am therefore more than happy to describe an opponent’s pitching and defense as the Scylla and Charybdis that must be navigated in our next game. And people say a liberal arts education has no value. Bah. Anyway, in my missive prior to today’s game, I noted that I would not be at the game because I would be in worship but that, unlike Thomas in today’s lesson, I had no doubts, at least not when it comes to our team’s chances. Erika made a good point in response: a lot of these families may not be Christian. To which I said, sure, but you don’t need to be Christian to have heard of Doubting Thomas. That one is baked into the lexicon.
2. Poor Doubting Thomas. He is saddled with this sobriquet in spite of the fact that he was the only one brave enough to be out and about on that first Sunday evening, in spite of the fact that he’s far from the only one to have doubted. In the bright dawn of Easter, Peter and the Beloved Disciple go to the tomb and find it empty, but they are hardly converted. Mary Magdalene stares Jesus in the face but doesn’t imagine he’s alive until he speaks her name. The other disciples hear Mary’s proclamation but don’t believe her. No one ever believes the women. So it is that they are huddled in fear behind the locked door when Jesus appears on the first Easter night. Peace, he speaks to them, giving them power to release or retain sin. But Thomas isn’t there. Thomas gives voice to what we would all have felt, I imagine. “Jesus? Alive? I’ll believe it when I see it.” Even more, he wants to see the wounds, to touch them with his own hands. He saw death inflicted upon Jesus, and that doesn’t just go away. “Thomas,” as Karoline Lewis writes, “gets to say what we all want to say, the truth of what we do not want to admit, how difficult it is to believe in Jesus whom we have never encountered for ourselves.”
3. In response, we, like Thomas, are given everything we need. It is true that Thomas was not there that first night. We, too, were not there. But Jesus comes back every Sunday, from the first week after the resurrection to this week. We hold out our hands and find the risen but still-wounded Christ placed upon them. Jesus doesn’t seem to mind providing his presence. He does so even today, will do so in mere moments. Just so, perhaps, all this talk about Thomas’s doubt is truly overblown. Again, it’s not like he was the only one. And when Jesus says to him, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” perhaps we’ve been hearing that wrong. Does Jesus mean that those who need to see are not blessed? That those whose faith is one of struggle and wrestling are somehow lesser? Well, that word “blessed” is a good, churchy word. But the Greek, makarios, can just as easily be translated as happy or content. Happy, content are those who believe without needing to see. True enough, turning Jesus’ words from the judgmental to the merely descriptive. Sure, for those whose faith comes easily, contentment follows. And that is a blessing. But for those of us who doubt and wrestle and wonder? Not only is there no shame or judgment in this, but Jesus keeps giving us what we need. Showing up in the world in the most real ways, and calling us, doubts and all, to follow and serve. This is a blessing, too.
4. Even in Easter, while death is defeated it remains in this world. So it is that this past week, the world lost Pope Francis. Through his commitment to social justice, and his work in particular on behalf of refugees and migrants, Francis became a spiritual leader even to many of us “small c” catholics. Among the many stories that have circulated, I read of a moment in the time leading up to his election to the papacy in 2013. He was speaking of the moment in Revelation 3:20, famously depicted in the Warner Sallman painting that hangs in many churches and homes, Christ at Heart’s Door. In the painting, Christ knocks upon a door that has an no outward handle. It is up to the believer to let Jesus into their heart. And certainly, we are called to open our hearts to Jesus. Then again, we know from our text today that locked doors are no problem for the risen Christ, that he enters our hearts, our lives, because of his, not out choice. So it was that the soon-to-be Pope suggested to his fellow Cardinals that when Christ stands at the door and knocks, he is not only asking to be let in; he is inviting us to follow him out into the world. The Cardinals knew they had their Pope, this surprising leader who showed us that the church shows the wounded Christ to the world, kneeling in service and love at the feet of those in need, those whom the world holds in low regard but are so beloved by God.
5. This Christ does not come to us that we would hoard him for ourselves, or for the sake of a private faith that does not intersect the world. On those first Sundays of Easter, Jesus comes through the locked doors behind which the disciples are hiding. With peace, he casts out fear. In his wounds, he meets their doubt. He gives them the gift of the Holy Spirit who enables their bold confession. It is Thomas the Doubter who sees that not only is Jesus alive; Jesus is their Lord and their God. This confession continues to get the disciples in trouble. Our reading today from Acts speaks of Peter and the others continuing to preach Jesus as Savior in spite of their recent imprisonment. They keep getting into trouble, but it is, as John Lewis would say, good trouble. We live in a world in which there are still those like the long-ago emperors of Rome who would claim lordship for themselves, who would insist that they are the only ones who can save us, who desire to build kingdoms built upon fear and division in which we doubt our future. But we, church, proclaim that the risen One is Lord, God, and Savior. In his name we go forth in faith, leaving locked doors behind, not because our faith exists without doubt. We go because Christ calls us. How can we say no?
6. But first, we come again to meet Jesus this morning. This One was crucified for your sake and salvation, and he bears still his wounds. Reach out your hands receive Christ and his promises. Taste and see that the Lord is good. Christ is alive, and in his peace our is created and sustained. Christ is alive; what need have we have locked doors? Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.