Dr. John Tamilio III, Pastor

© 2025, Dr. Tamilio

The first Sunday after Easter is often referred to as Doubting Thomas Sunday.  This is when we read the story about Thomas needing to see it to believe it.  The Risen Christ appears before ten of the disciples.  Judas has killed himself at this point, and Thomas isn’t present in the house when the Risen Jesus first appears before them.  You heard the story a moment ago, and some of you have heard it several times in the past.  We even use the term “Doubting Thomas” as a cliché for anyone who questions anything too much.

I have said many times before that the Christmas and Easter sermons are the hardest to write, because there are only so many ways that you can say “Jesus was born” and “Christ has risen.”  The story of Thomas and the Resurrected Christ is another one of those sermons about which it is difficult to say anything new.  The problem lies with its conclusion.  Jesus says to ol’ Tom, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

That’s us, right?  Our faith is stronger than Thomas’ faith.  We’ve never seen Jesus, and yet we believe.  I am reminded of the story of the pastor who prayed for rain.  There are several different versions of this story, and they all go something like this.  A small Midwestern town was suffering from a severe drought.  The residents, mostly farmers, gathered at their church one Sunday, asking for prayers: prayers for rain.  The pastor said, “Okay.  Come here tomorrow at noon, and I will offer a very special prayer for God to shower our community with plenty of rain.”  The next day, a huge, expectant crowd showed up.  Once they gathered in front of the church, the pastor came outside and told them to go home.  He wouldn’t offer the prayer because of their lack of faith.  They shook their heads and asked him how he determined that they lacked faith.  The pastor looked at the crowd and asked, “Where are your umbrellas?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it” — ever the skeptic’s claim.  Sometimes, however, you have to believe it to see it.  In other words, some things can only be seen with the eyes of faith.

Last week, after church, I thought about Easter — not our Easter worship service, per se, but the meaning of the day.  People, even non-churchgoers, celebrate this joyous day.  In the past, I have asked non-believers (non-Christians) why they celebrate Easter.  “Why do you dress up in new clothes, eat a sumptuous ham dinner, and have your kids search for hard-boiled eggs, jelly beans, and chocolate bunnies?”  The answer?  To celebrate the coming of spring.  After all, Easter does coincide with the vernal equinox.  It sounds as if our culture is saturated more with the trappings of some new age, pagan celebration than the anticipation of the resurrection.  I hear similar claims about Christmas.  Why do non-Christians celebrate it?  According to a recent article by Camilla Klein, “Some enjoy the festive atmosphere, the gift-giving, and the opportunity to spend time with loved ones.  Others appreciate the sense of community and goodwill that the holiday brings.”[1]  On one hand, that’s great.  All the more power to people who connect with Christianity even tangentially.  On the other hand, this is an offensive co-opting of the faith.  Imagine if non-Jews celebrated Rosh Hashanah or non-Muslims celebrated Eid al-Fitr, but attributed other, secular meanings to these days?  I think it would go over like a lead balloon.  But that is a sermon for another time.

The point is simply that people look for hope wherever they can find it.  Life is full of stressors and problems.  Those of you who just paid an enormous tax bill know what I’m talking about.  Those who are struggling with broken bodies know, too.  This church happens to offer a balm for life’s problems.  We want hope.  We want to believe that there is something more than the trials and travail that fill our lives.

But there’s more to it than that.  Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.  In other words, when a miracle occurs, we aren’t always ready for it, or to admit that we believe in the source of it.  In other words, we believe in Jesus and want to see him.  Isn’t that one of the main reasons that we gather here each Sunday?  What do we do once he appears?  This is what I like to call the Thomas complex.  Thomas, like the rest of the twelve, was told time and time again that Jesus would be betrayed and crucified once they came to Jerusalem, but he also told them that he’d rise again.  Did they really believe that this would happen?  Did they?  People don’t rise from the dead.

Thomas wasn’t the only doubter in the bunch.  Peter denied Jesus three times before the rooster crowed, ushering in the morning of his crucifixion.  The remainder of the disciples (other than John) took off.  Who could blame them!  They probably would have been crucified, too.

But the lesson from Thomas is that some things have to be believed in order to be seen.  If you do not believe in God, you will not see him charting your course.  You won’t see him intervening to bring hope when all seems lost.  You won’t see him filling your heart, soul, and mind with the promise that you too will rise.  Yes, you will rise.  You will rise from the limits of this life.  You will rise to uncharted heights.  Where there is despair, you will see joy.  Where there is pessimism, you will see light.  Where cynicism, you will see confidence.  Where there are clouds, you will see rainbows.  Where there is death, you will see new life.  What the caterpillar sees as the end, the butterfly sees as new life in flight.

Do you hear me?  Do you follow what I am saying?

Death says, “No.”  Jesus says, “Yes.”

And remember something about our friend Thomas.  Once he sees the Risen Christ himself and sticks his fingers in his wounds, he says, “My Lord and my God!”  Find me a more heartfelt, genuine, spontaneous, hope-filled expression of faith than that.  As Horace T. Allen — one of my doctoral advisors and the man responsible for the Revised Common Lectionary — once said, “Thomas isn’t the doubter.  He’s the believer.”

And we are believers, too.  We do not believe because we have seen, but we see because we believe — and what we see is the work of God unfolding around us: through our prayers, through our songs, through our mission, through our witness, through our fellowship.  The risen one — wounds and all — appears before us in all his glory.

Share the Word.  Share the light.  He is risen.  He is risen indeed.  Amen.

[1] Camilla Klein, “The Surprising Reason Why Non-Christians Love Celebrating Christmas — Revealed!” from Christian Educators Academy, March 13, 2025 (online).