Easter 02, Year A: John 20:19-31
Episcopal Church of the Holy Cross
April 19, 2020
Jonathan Hanneman
To watch a video of the sermon, please visit this page.
“Thomas answered [Jesus], ‘My Lord and my God!’” – John 20:28
Having grown up in a monotheistic, Trinitarian Christian tradition, as an adult I find myself fascinated with the pantheons of other cultures. I never cared much for Greek or Roman myths as a child—after all, the gods were just the “dumb idols” the Bible was talking about. But once I started seeing analogous characters appearing in traditional Chinese and Japanese tales, I’ve slowly gained a renewed interest in our Western ones, too.
There’s something to be said for a culture that can name its gods. In most cultures, the gods tend to be personifications of what we in America would think of as concepts, emotions, or ideas. Want to understand the essence of war? Get to know Bishamon or Ares. Looking for wealth, luck, and happiness? Become a disciple of Fortuna or Ebisu. Big test coming up? Devote yourself to Tenjin or Hermes. If there’s a core concept you can tweeze out from among others, chances are there’s a god associated with it.
Another important aspect of any pantheon is its structure. All gods have an appropriate place in their hierarchies. Each serves a purpose for those beings both above and below it—including humans. When everyone is acting within their proper role, the result is cosmic harmony, which translates as peace in the physical realm. But if a god decides it doesn’t like its place, if it starts gathering strength by collecting too many followers for its position in the hierarchy, chaos erupts in the heavens, resulting in war and death on earth. If you pay attention, you can even see remnants of these ancient theologies in portions of the Hebrew Bible[1] and New Testament[2].
As I said, there’s something to be gained from a culture that can recognize and name its gods. We Westerners like to think we’re above all that, that we’ve evolved beyond the limiting need for something as silly as mythical gods. We’re too smart and educated—too scientific and rational—for those kinds of stories. And that is exactly what makes us completely blind to “the gods” and their manipulations, ultimately leading us to worship those gods without even realizing it. When I think of something as simply an idea, I assume that I’m the one controlling it—it exists only for and within me. But when it reveals itself as an expression of a universal collective, as something that everyone is seeking, something that ensnares large portions of the population, the so-called idea unveils its latent godhood. And any god that assumes too much power for its place in the cosmic hierarchy eventually reveals its true nature to be that of Death[3].
We can see this happening in real time in our country right now through different people’s responses to COVID-19. While we still don’t know how to stop this virus, we do know that staying at home, social distancing when we must go out in public, and maintaining high standards of cleanliness slow its spread. However, those same reasonable, though costly, actions threaten the undisputed status of some of our unnamed but very real gods, and we can watch on news reports as their adherents become more and more willing to sacrifice human lives to feed their hidden masters. Often, we know these gods’ names, but we’ve forgotten that they are names. Two of the outsized entities I see asserting themselves right now are Mammon[4] (the god of economics and greed) and Liberty[5].
In their proper places, Liberty and Economy have a basic and appropriate purpose that expresses itself in how they treat people. Freedom is desirable and good and, when governed by mutual respect and restraint, brings life to people. Likewise, the economy is an important aspect of human relationships and interactions. There’s no moral problem with either of those ideas—gods, if you will—so long as they remain servants to humanity. When roles reverse, however, and humanity becomes the servant, either one may threaten life itself.
“Wait a minute,” you’re probably saying right now. “How can a god be meant to serve people? Aren’t people supposed to serve and worship the gods?”
And that is one of the great mysteries and beauties that Christianity reveals among the world’s religions: the God of gods does not need our service. In fact, a core aspect of our God’s nature is to serve the very Creation that God made! Christians don’t understand the universe to be a cosmic accident—a greater being didn’t somehow get lonely or burp or breed, creating the physical realm as an accidental outcome. No, God chose to make us and our universe. At every step of the Creation story in Genesis 1, as God prepares the stage for human life, God pauses to declare that the work is good. In the following tale in chapter 2, God shows concern for the emotional wellbeing of the earthling[6] and makes it a partner appropriate and equal to itself among the broad variety of animal life.
Looking at the New Testament, we see God expressing Godself not just in service to humanity but as humanity. Jesus both flatly tells us[7] and physically shows us[8] that the nature of God is to serve, to seek the best for others. Then he goes so far to make his point that he freely gives his own life, proclaiming by example that God’s desire to serve has no physical limit, no boundary. Not pain. Not personal suffering. Not even Death.
We see it in our Gospel this week, too. The apostle Thomas has a poor reputation and is probably more mocked than anyone else in the Bible. Everyone knows (or has been called) a “Doubting Thomas.” But Jesus doesn’t make fun of him. Thomas gets a negative rap simply for making a statement about what it would take for him to continue following our Savior. He’s only asking for the very things everyone else in the group had already received. And he isn’t saying that he “won’t believe”—that’s reading a bunch of future theological speculation back onto the text. I say the much stronger implication of his words is “I can never be faithful.” I don’t think Thomas doubts the word of the other disciples so much as he doubts himself. Yet Jesus doesn’t dismiss him. Even after the resurrection, after his glorification and being seated at the right hand of God, we find that Jesus is still determined to serve his followers, going so far as to take notice of a single one’s need and then granting the opportunity for him to know and trust his teacher even more.
People become like what they worship. Whether or not you acknowledge or identify something as your god, you will reflect its essence in your own life. As I said earlier, a “god” in its appropriate place and role is not a problem. It naturally remains a servant to both the One True God and humanity. The problem comes when it begins to grasp at power, when it starts to demand service for itself. I, as its (possibly unwitting) worshipper, then also begin to demand that the universe bend to my own will, even if I must sacrifice the health and lives of others to satisfy my hidden, nameless gods. In fact, needing to sacrifice others for your own interest is a blatant sign that you are worshipping a pagan god.
People become like whatever it is that they worship. In the case of those who seek after the Great Creator God of Heaven and Earth, a God dedicated to life and love, one who delights in serving and sustaining the Creation, one revealed through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, they will naturally come to serve others, and in so doing, show true service to the God they love by reflecting the essence of that loving God.
It bears repeating again in this time of stay-at-home orders, social distancing, and frustration, that Jesus’ Great Commandment—love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself—is not two separate commands. Nor is it a statement of order (first love God, then love your neighbor). No, it’s two ways of saying the same thing: if you love God, you will love your neighbor, and if you are loving your neighbor, you are loving God. How you treat the people around you, even those you may never meet but who will be influenced—or infected—by your present actions, directly reveals whether or not you are committed to the God of the Bible or to a god of Death.
So what will you choose this second week of Easter? What does your life say about who you are worshipping? Stepping outside of yourself for a moment and looking at your attitudes and relationships, what does it tell you about who your god is?
No one will have a perfect track record on this, but hopefully the overall arch of your life is one of love: of kindness, goodness, gentleness, peace, and self-control—a life that reflects the humble, generous nature of our Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
But what happens if you can’t say that? What if you’ve begun to notice more patterns of selfishness or assertions of superiority? If you are seeing trouble, if you find yourself in dangerous position of dedication to a false god, there’s no need to despair. The true God—the God who creates, the God who loves, the God who serves—is gentle, forgiving, and merciful. Recognizing that you have a problem doesn’t call for self-loathing; it’s the first step toward change. Instead of trapping you on a path to death, it’s offering the opportunity to celebrate genuine repentance, which is to turn from the false for love of the true. Every false god ultimately becomes a mask for Death, but through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, through the mystery of Easter, Death is overcome, and the God of Life, of Love, and of Service reigns supreme. In this season of Easter, this time of new creation and rebirth, turn from enslavement to death and demonstrate your renewed desire to follow and worship the God of gods the only way any one of us can: by serving our neighbors. Life is waiting. Love is watching. And, like Jesus did for each of his apostles, God will give you all that you need to follow.
In anticipation and thanksgiving, let us answer with Thomas:
“My Lord and my God!”
[1] Isaiah 14:12; Daniel 12:1
[2] Jude 1:9; Revelation 12:7-9
[3] Or Death masquerading as the particular god it may have usurped
[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mammon | Mammon’s Greek and Roman equivalent also happens to be the god of the underworld: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C4%ABs_Pater.
[5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Libertas
[6] The word adam refers to mud or dirt, so “earthling” is a pretty good translation.
[7] Matthew 20:28
[8] John 13:3-15