Easter 2 2013

Easter 2, 2013

On Wednesday mornings at our weekday Eucharist service, we normally use the daily Eucharistic Lectionary readings, and then read from a book of meditations written by Sam Portaro (a retired Episcopal priest in this diocese, I might add).

After reading the meditation, we then usually have some informal discussion about the readings and the meditation.

On Wednesday of Holy Week, we read first the Gospel passage about Judas leaving the group to set into motion his betrayal of Jesus—obviously one of those moments immortalized in infamy.

However, Sam Portaro turns this story, and our own understanding of it right on its head. He does this in his meditation by expressing the amazing faith that Judas must have had in Jesus to be able to go out and do something as difficult as betray him.

Now, it stands to reason that because Judas gets such a bad rap in the Gospels that he must have been a pretty rotten guy. We know that he was in charge of the common purse—and we know that when the woman shows up to anoint Jesus’ feet with oil; Judas questions whether this was the best use of such an expensive oil. And we have a few other examples that seem to implicate the man as the villain that history has affirmed him as… But in the same way, there are other things that say something quite different about Judas.

First off, Judas was one of Jesus’ chosen disciples. And as one who seemed to know the hearts of his followers, Jesus could have easily passed over a man that had dark intentions well before any of the events of Maundy Thursday came about…but he didn’t. He chose Judas.

Jesus chose Judas, who was known to be part of a political group known as the Zealots. A group of Jewish people who worked through any means necessary to try to overthrow Roman control of their country. Some might consider them a group of freedom fighters, others more likely would see them as extremists, or even terrorists. But one thing was certain, Jesus saw Judas as someone worthy to be his disciple.

Secondly, as Sam Portaro points out, Jesus asked Judas to keep the common purse—he made him the group’s treasurer. However, one might wonder why this job was reserved for Judas when they had Matthew among their number—a man who would have been well acquainted with money.

However, given the reputation of tax collectors in this era, perhaps it was because Matthew had been a tax collector himself that he was passed over; and perhaps Judas was the more trustworthy.

Third, while we’re told that the disciple who Jesus loved was seated at his right; we understand that Judas was at Jesus’ left hand—a position of equal honor. And while I’m sure any of us could appreciate irony—I don’t believe this was a case of literary irony.

Instead, like Sam Portaro, I would posit that Judas was a man of immense faith in Jesus. I would even say that his faith was such that he believed that Jesus was the very one who would come to overthrow Rome and restore Jerusalem. In fact, I would guess that Judas believed that all Jesus needed was just the right kind of push—and he would rise up with his heavenly armies to crush Rome.

I think he believed this, and I think he believed in Jesus very deeply—he just sadly had the wrong idea…

I bring this whole thing about Judas up, because today’s Gospel reading is one that is most certainly about faith, a very real and human faith. Today we hear about Thomas the Twin (often remembered idiomatically as Doubting Thomas), and how in spite of repeated attempts by his friends to convince him, he refuses to believe the news of the risen Jesus.

Of course, we know that the story ends with Jesus inviting Thomas to touch his wounds; and Thomas kneeling and responding: “My Lord and my God…” a powerful admission of faith.

At first blush, if we were only to read this story of Thomas, we might assume that he’s a hard-headed type. We could gather from his oath to ‘not believe until he’s touched the wounds’ that Thomas is a hard-nosed rationalist, and not a half bad existentialist to boot.

 But just as we can’t judge Judas on just a few passages, we can’t sum-up Thomas’ personality simply by reading this story only.

After all, earlier on in John’s Gospel, after Jesus announces that they will go to Judea, and his disciples warn him that the Jews will be waiting to kill him there; it’s Thomas who says to the group: ”Let us also go, that we may die with him…”

And, of course, even when invited to touch the wounds, there is no evidence in the text that he actually had to do so to finally believe.

So, once again we begin to see how complex these well-known characters really are… They’re far from perfect. But isn’t it wonderful to know that they were called faithful in their own way? It somehow validates the bumpiness of the faith journey when we see someone like Thomas, a man who was ready to die with Jesus early on, doubting. Whether it was the weight of grief that he felt—or the fear surrounding the whole event; whatever the case we can no doubt account it as wonderfully human.  

In the afterglow of Easter, then it should be no surprise that this should be the Gospel reading the Sunday following. After all, having gone through the long, dry season of Lent (which we’re really good at, by the way), and entering into this time of such wonderful mystery; we might find ourselves wondering just how realistic and true all of this stuff is…

 And even if it’s not in this particular season, we probably know very intimately those times when our faith was tested, and it just seems absolutely impossible to believe anymore.  We have to remember that Jesus’ response to Thomas wasn’t one of rebuke—it was one of invitation. Jesus invites Thomas to experience and remember that this resurrected body that he had heard about and saw in that moment was hard won; because it came only after Jesus’ suffering.

We also have to remember that while faith is a wonderful gift, it isn’t always easy to hold on to—so we shouldn’t be ashamed when we find ourselves having a hard time. Instead, I think we should take our cues from those stalwarts of faith, the disciples. Those faithful people who ran when Jesus was arrested; that one who was called the “Rock” who crumbled and denied Jesus; those intimate friends who didn’t recognize Jesus after his resurrection. Because what we find in these heroes of the faith are tragically real people who live into their faith like bulls walk into a china shop: there is no pretense or affectation—rather faith for them was something that they crashed into regularly with ruthless abandon. And they were able to do this only because they were just as honest with their doubt as they were their faith.  

Obviously there is a lesson here for us: namely that we have to understand that our faith is never destroyed in doubt, but is instead made stronger, and becomes ever more rooted when it is lived into honestly. Just like Thomas, and every other saint on whose shoulders we stand.