Two Fruits in the Sukka

The Great Saint Aelred



Today we celebrate the life of Saint Aelred.  You can read all about him here. 
And you can see a cool icon of him here.

Pour into our hearts, O God, the Holy Spirit's gift of love, that we, clasping each the other's hand, may share the joy of friendship, human and divine, and with your servant Aelred draw many to your community of love; through Jesus Christ the Righteous, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
From The Lectionary Page

When your number’s up, it’s up.
When it’s your time, it’s just your time…

Saint Agapitus certainly knows about this.  Sentenced as a Christian he was initially thrown into an arena full of wild beasts.  The beasts wouldn’t eat him, though.  But, Agapitus’ number was up.  The judge ordered him beheaded.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to kill Christians.  The Martyrology is full of stories of Christians who just would not die, flames which would not consume, ravenous lions which would not eat.

We think that we no longer have the opportunity to be martyrs.  And, it is unlikely that any of us will die so dramatically as the White Robed now in Heaven, that’s for sure.  But if there’s one thing I know about being a Christian it is that my life is required… it is.  I won’t be asked to give up my breath, my flesh.  But what about  my ego, my self-satisfaction, the comfort that comes from compliance with the ways of the world?  What about those things?  

What a privilege to be poor, unmarried, childless, and unimportant, outside the comfort of the worldly system.  Yet, sometimes I think it might be easier just to be eaten by a lion.  Easier than continuing as a visitor in this strange, strange, world.

So, did you take a look at the saints for today?  There are two Bernards:  The famous one, Bernard of Clairvaux and another one Bernard of Valdeiglesius.  Just take a look at the hagiographies of each.  

I’ll tell you why I am interested in the non-famous Bernard.  

For one thing, there were a lot of people walking the earth in the 1100s who we’ve never heard of.  So, there was something special about Bernard Valdeiglesiun.   Of course, we’ll never know what it was.  But, there was something.  

And, I’ll tell you something else, it seems likely to me that he was canonized by a local bishop because his neighbors and friends declared him a saint. I think that’s a lot more impressive than being declared a saint by Rome.  Shoot, I could probably get the pope to declare me a saint from way off there in Rome.  But, what would my friends here in Austin have to say about that?   See, it gets a little trickier then.

It’s almost as if the less information I have, the more interested I am.  You who have been reading this blog for awhile have surly noticed that.  But, it’s because I really do wonder… did he heal people, give sacrificially to the poor, exhibit unusual humility?  What was it?  

I’ll admit that it’s just as likely that he gave all the money, ill-gotten probably, to the diocese for the new cathedral.  One could surly get sainted as easily for that as for any special virtue.  But, because we don’t have more information, I can believe what I want.  

It is likely that 900 years from now my own name will have been long lost.  But, should it remain on some census roll or (God forbid) inmate list,  I hope someone will look at it and say, Hummm, Linda Diane McMillan… and that they’ll believe the best about me.

When we remember St. Christopher it is a reminder to help one another along the path, and when we remember St.  Francis it is a reminder to live peacefully with the created world.   On and on we could go through the saints.  But, when we have a saint like this, it reminds me to live in a way that would make my neighbors  --  the ones who see me everyday --  want to canonize me.   

I’m not that good.  There’ll be no outcry for my canonization when I die.  I can live with that.  But, the impossibility of attainment shouldn’t keep us from the striving.

Frances Cabrini’s head is in Italy.  Who knew?

Should I ever be canonized a saint… and don’t hold your breath on that… but, should it happen, please do not, ever, under any circumstance, for any amount of money, remove my head from my body and send it to be buried in Italy.  Honestly, if this is how the church treats its saints I shudder to think what will become of me.

Frances Cabrini is the first American Citizen to be canonized (I guess John deBreuf never became a citizen.) And, as if that weren’t enough, she is the only saint whose body is on display here in the US.  The head being in Italy, like I said.

I sometimes wish the hagiographers wouldn’t give us quite so much information.

Frances Cabrini was the last child in a large Italian family, one of only four survivors.   She was a sickly little kid from the very beginning but well cared for by her older sister.  Her parents had her baptized on the day she was born.  White doves descended on the property that day.  

Frances seems to have done everything right.  She learned virtues from her sister, studied hard, disciplined herself as a way of being close to God whom she felt seduced by at age eight.  I can find no account of misspent youth or rowdy adolescence.  Yet, when she wanted to become a missionary and go help in China her sister told her, "You, so little and ignorant, how dare you think of becoming a missionary?"

Because of a bout with smallpox she was denied entry into Daughters of the Sacred Heart convent.  It was felt that she would not be able to endure the demands of the religious life. I imagine this was something of a vocational crises for Frances.  She began teaching and was eventually allowed to make vows in another order.  It is from there that she began the work that would make her a saint.  

What stands out to me today, as I read about her life, is not the great things she did.  I am seeing early on a series of setbacks.  She wanted to go to China but couldn’t.  Why? Because of being small and ignorant.  But, she seems not to be discouraged by that (I would have been devastated)  and she keeps on going.   Then, when it is time for her to join the convent, the most logical thing for her to do, the thing she’d assumed all along she would do, she was denied.  This time because she was frail.

Her own sister told her she was ignorant.

Her convent told her she was too sickly.

After continuing on and proving herself in other areas a bishop finally sees some potential in Frances and sets her on her path.

So, two things for today:

1)  Others will try to define you and tell you what you can’t do and, while they can be an annoying hindrance, they do not have the final word. And

2) I want to look around me today to see if there are any potential saints about whom I’ve thought, O They are not so bright and they can’t do much.  Because, apparently, that’s the kind of thing about which we are often wrong.

So, join me today in looking for unlikely saints... ignorant and frail types.  Because you never know... you just never know.

Cameron

Today we remember the life and honor the death of Saint Cameron.  He was martyred in Cagliari, Italy.  It is reported that a tooth of Saint Cameron exists in a reliquary at Mont Saint Michel though I am not sure how one would prove that.  No other information is known, or even speculated.  No images are available.  It is unlikely that he will be the subject of one of those inspirational hagiographies that you find in little books.  

Saint Cameron’s page on The Patron Saints Index is mainly white.  It appears especially stark when compared to Pius X whom we also remember today.  Pius X finally put an end to that silly Janeism, if you’ll recall.  And there is actually quite a lot to like about Pius X.  But, the popes will be remembered.  Today I am remembering Cameron, whoever he was.  Wondering how he came to be a nearly anonymous martyr. 

Clare of Television

Today we remember Clare of Assisi, Clare of The Poor Clares.  --  There are still Poor Clares around after all this time! 

And, noble as The Poor Clares are, what I really wanted to know about Clare is how she became the patroness of television.  The story goes, according to The Patron Saints Index, that towards the end of her life Clare was not able to go to mass.  Not to worry!  The mass appeared on the wall of her cell.  Like television.  And you thought flat screens were a modern invention.

Thus, I felt especially spiritual this evening as I sat down to watch the British Comedies.  Sometimes sainthood really does seem attainable.

I don’t know much about him, can’t even find a picture of him.  He was a bishop but that was back before it was something to be embarrassed about.

Here’s the little bit of information I can’t get out of my mind:  Condemned for his faith to slave in the marble quarries at Sigum.

Over the years I’ve had a lot of occasion to think about the martyrs and those who stood firm in their faith even in the face of death.  I’ve wondered about myself, how I would respond.  And, I really do think I would be more likely to face death than to deny my faith.  I hope so.

But, the thing about Jader is that he likely had the opportunity to change his fate every single day.  I don’t think I could make that decision every single day.  In the face of backbreaking labor, scared and bleeding hands, inadequate food and shelter, I think I’d fold.  I’m pretty sure of it.

So, I thought about Jader a lot.  He’s the one I want standing with me in the time of trial.

John Chrysostom

I confess that, in my own secret world, I sometimes refer to the president of the United States as George W. Chrysostom.  It’s lame and dumb.  Yet, I feel very clever about it.

Today was the day that we remember the real Chrysostom, the Golden Mouthed John.  I found a biography of John Chrysistom which I read back in 1999 and just may read again.  On page 190 I’ve noted the four things that, according to the author, led to John’s downfall:    


                    Yielding to irascibility,

                     Disloyal confidents,

                     Tactless sermons,

                     Disloyal clergy
 
I’ll be sure to keep all that in mind should I ever become the bishop of  Constantinople, and you should too.   You know, should you be elevated a’fore me.

I’ve been thinking about John a lot today.  I wish I could sit down and have a talk with him.  There are some things I’d like to know.  John got exiled either three or four times, and if I’d re-read the book I‘d know for sure.  Yet, despite all that, he seems not to have given up hope of getting back in.  And, when his exiles were up, he returned.  I want to talk to him about that.

I want to know how John kept from being furious with his exilers.   I imagine it helped that he knew the reasons for his exile.  He understood both theologically and politically what forces were in play.  He did have the support of the pope, even though it was not practically very helpful.  Plus, he had friends.  I think that would be an enormous comfort.    But, I don’t understand why he wasn’t mad.  You know, like I was when I got kicked out.

How did John not give up hope of ever getting back in?  How did he not become despondent over that?  Or, did he?

I want to know how John managed to keep believing, even though his circumstances changed.  I change what I believe to go along with my circumstances.  Everybody does that.  But, it appears that John didn’t.  

Maybe it’s not John Chrysostom I want to talk to.  Maybe I just need advice.  But, from whom?  I had coffee with a friend a few weeks ago who said that she feels like she needs to go to a priest to talk about all the things which are on her mind but there are none that she trusts.  I suggested a therapist -- you know how helpful I can be.  But, both of us know that that is not the kind of help we need.  Personally, I don’t think it’s a priest we need either, but that’s neither here nor there.  There is simply no good advice to be had.  Maybe God can help me but so far God has not.  I am not losing faith in God.  I’m just saying, “How long…” which, of course is poetic when David says it but just pathetic when I do.

I wish John Chrysostom were here.  He would at least know what to say.

"When you perceive that God is chastening you, fly not to his enemies...but to his friends, the martyrs, the saints, and those who were pleasing to him, and who have great power in God."

John Damascene and a Bit About Me

I think the saint we remembered yesterday is really cool.  His name is John Damascene, or John of Damascus, sometimes called John Chrysorrhoas… It’s similar to Chrysostom, but Chrysorrhoas is Golden River.  That’s a lovely thing to be called, I think.

His father was a mucky-muck for a Muslim caliph and John became one too.  His family had been the only Christians remaining faithful when Damascus came under Arab control.  The caliph apparently found that appealing.

John was educated by Muslims who were doing all kinds of cool things with mathematics and culture (coming up with the idea of bed sheets, for example); and also had a Christian tutor, a monk who had been redeemed from slavery by John’s father, no less.  Thus, John was uniquely positioned for success among the Muslims.

John became a defender of Holy Icons,  an Iconodule, servant of icons.  John’s writing against the iconoclasts, really made Germanius, the Patriarch of Constantinople mad.  The legend is that Germanius was so mad over John’s defense of icons that he commissioned a letter be written which would make it look like John had betrayed the city back into the hands of Christians.  After some intrigues around this, the letter was shown to the Sultan who ordered John’s hand cut off.  This, of course, is a remarkably light sentence for treason thus indicating that the Sultan didn’t really believe the betrayal.  In any event, John prayed and knelt before an image of the Blessed Mother.  Then, he went to sleep.  As he was sleeping the Holy Mother appeared and reattached the hand.

I read an article which expended several paragraphs on whether or not this story was true.  Of course it is true, what is the matter with people?  Whether or not it is factual, which the article erroneously confuses with truth, is beside the point.  Hagiography is a kind of writing, not entirely fiction, or mythological, nor is it entirely factual.  It is absolutely truthful.  Not always factual.  I don’t understand why this is difficult for some to grasp.  

In any event, I identify with John as a lover of sacred images and also as one who is betrayed at work.  I mean, isn’t that story of Germanius’ betrayal ripped from the headlines of today’s workplace news?  The stories I could tell of workplace betrayal… Nobody in my office ever got a hand cut off, though.  We don’t do that part anymore.

So, that’s John of Damascus.  For yesterday.

For me, a lot of work this week.  Quite a lot going on personally.  Nice cool weather.  Sort of enslaved to time.  Though, as my friend G points out, if we are still becoming, time is a friend.  I am considering even deeper levels of unknowing which are not entirely comfortable.  It is possible that by the time my life on earth is over I shall know nothing at all.  In some quarters this is considered good news.  I am not yet so evolved.  I long for answers, easy answers, hard ones, I don’t care… Some levels of unknowing are just too deep.  Yet, there they are.  Maybe we pause for a moment on the precipice but eventually it is a choice of going on or dying.  Not too hard of a choice.

Remember the story I told you a couple of days ago about how Juana Pereira, while out looking for firewood, found a little statue of the Theotokos?

She took the statue home and it disappeared only to be found by Juana again, in exactly the same place,  just like the first time.

Later Juana placed the statue in a cupboard, a cabinet, and even the parish tabernacle.  Each time the statue would return to the place it had initially been found, and Juana would find it again.

I’ve been thinking about Juana.  

Why do you suppose it is that Juana found the statue in the first place?  

As usual, I’ll tell you what I think.  I think that Juana was a person who was aware.  She surly was not the only one along that foot path.  But, she was the one who found the statue.  Like Mary, Juana didn’t do any great miracles, nor did she deliver any great orations or treaties.  She just paid attention.  And I think that paying attention may be one of the most important things we can do too.

I mean, think about it…

Aside from the mytho-Protoevangelion of James and other Christian stories, Mary didn’t do any miracles.  Besides the Magnificat, she is not credited with any great speeches either.  In fact, much of what she says seems ordinary, obvious.

Luke 1:34 -Then said Mary unto the angel, "How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?"
Which is exactly what I would have said, by the way.

John 2:3 - …the mother of Jesus saith unto him, "They have no wine."
I don’t think you’d have to be the Mother of God, or even a sommelier, to see that.

For all her devotion and care, Mary is not a very clever wordsmith.  But, she is observant.  

When we first encounter Mary -- you know, in a personal way -- it is the awareness that expands and sharpens.  Sound and sight, even time, may seem insignificant.  But, we are aware, always bringing before God what has become obvious.  And we weep at the evening news and avoid the public square because it is all too much.  The awareness.  

You get past that.  Thank God.  But, the gift and its concomitant responsibility remains.  To live in awareness even when it has once again become possible to live smaller, safer, numb yet breathing.

Juana reminds us.  

The Theotokos comes and opens us.

If we manage to contain the experience of Mary on a shelf, or even in a tabernacle, it leaves us.  The question is whether or not we can continue living with enough awareness to see her when she appears along the path again, as if for the first time.

With apologies to Dr. Borg.

St. Laurence

Today is the day we remember Saint Laurence who, when commanded by the pagan Valerian to bring together all the wealth of the church, presented not gold and sliver but the poor and wretched.  

The story goes that, before he was taken off to be beheaded for refusing to worship pagan idols, Pope Sixtus II,  entrusted all the church’s wealth, including its sacred vessels, to Archdeacon Laurence.  

After the beheading, Laurence was brought before the Prefect and questioned regarding the church’s wealth.  

Now this part shows Laurence's cunning.  Sixtus had preduicted that Laurence would follow him in martyerdom in only three days.  So, Laurence had to have that in the back of his mind when he asked for three days in which to gather up the church's wealth and present it to the Prefect.

Believing that he only had three days left to live, this is what Laurence did:  He sold all the church’s sacred vessels and distributed the money to the poor.  He then gathered together the least little saints he could find:  the poor, the lame, beggars, probably some homos and on the third day he presented all these saints to the Prefect.  “Behold, the treasure of the church,” he is rumored to have said.

Well, you can imagine how the prefect felt about that.  He was furious.  The Prefect ordered that Laurence be racked, then scourged with scorpions (a whip with sharp iron points - see II Chron. 10:11), then stretched out on a red-hot iron grill.

During all this Laurence maintained a sense of humor, jesting with his tormentors,  “My body is done on one side; turn me over on the other.”  Later he said, “My flesh is now well done, you may taste of it.”

He prayed for his tormentors and for the conversion of Rome and then Laurence died on August 10, 258.

I don’t imagine that I could ever be as courageous as Laurence.  Certainly I could not endure with such a good nature.  But, I hope that I have cast my lot with those poor and dirty souls whom Laurence said were the church’s wealth.

I know that I don’t have anything to offer the church, they don’t even want me to show up.  It’s hard to tell if that is because I am so bad or because they are so blind.   But, even with very little hope of it, I hope anyway that if Jesus were to gather up His treasure, I would  be among His gems.  I don't too much care about anythng else.

---

Thoughts on the life of St. Laurence, 2007.

Tomorrow is the day we remember Saint Laurence.  You know he is one of my favorites because this is the third year I’ve written about him.  Not sure what the draw is for me.  Maybe it’s the dramatic way he duped the authorities, that does appeal to me; or maybe it’s his good-natured martyrdom, not so appealing.

What I am thinking about today is what I would do, how I would live this day, if I had only three more.  Because, when you think about it, we are all going to die.

There must have been two thoughts uppermost in Laurence’s mind as his old mentor passed from this life to the life of glory: One was that he also was about to be martyred; the other was a sense of the great responsibility that Sixtus II had given him by putting him in charge of  all the church‘s wealth.  He must have wondered why Sixtus would give such a weighty responsibility to a man who only had three days left to live.  

It’s a good question.  And, as usual, I am going to tell you what I think about it.  I think that Sixtus knew what we all know.  And that is that a dying person has little to loose.  Death makes you brave.  Risks which seemed unreasonable in the thick of life may suddenly appear worthwhile.  

I think that Sixtus knew that Laurence would find a way to protect the wealth not only from the authorities but from the church too.  I think he knew that Laurence would be fearless and innovative and maybe that helped Sixtus to go to his own reward with a better conscience about his own stewardship of the wealth.

But, here’s the take away:  We are all pretty much in Laurence’s shoes.  We are all looking at death, and we are all responsible for the wealth of the church.  That is, we are responsible for one another.  

So, with only three days left, how would I care for the wealth of the church, the wealth of my own life?  What authorities have had me living in fear, and how can I outsmart them at the end?  Can I face the end of my own life with the same kind of courage that Laurence did?

Just what I’m thinking this year…

There are lots of saints on the calendar for today.  

Good old Nicodemus, for one.  The first closet case in Christendom.  He didn’t let his brothers in the Sanhedrin know what he was secretly following Jesus.  Most of the Sanhedrin were Sadducees.  I really could do without the Sadducees.  No one liked them, you know.

There’s a Jew on the calendar for today too.  Gamaliel.  He taught St. Paul the Talmud.  Of course, it’s said that he converted to Christianity.  We’d like to think that anyway.  But, I don’t know of any credible evidence to support such a claim.

We also have Anthony the Roman.  Anthony was an Orthodox guy in a hetrodox world.   He went to live on a rock until it broke off and floated off to Russia.  He became a famous holy man after that.  Anthony was a miracle worker, though exactly what miracles he worked are not specified.  I suspect that living on a rock would count as one.

One of gay old Saint Aelred’s spiritual students is on for today too.  Waltheof of Melrose.  Apparently he could multiply food just like Jesus and heal people too.  Honestly, where are these people when you need them?

But, the saint I am remembering today is Lydia Purpuraria.  Lydia the seller of purple cloth.  (Purpuraria means seller of purple.)  She was a lay woman, like me.  And she was a business woman, also like me.  She was probably rich.  And thus end our similarities.  

It is especially helpful, I think, to have saints like Lydia on the calendar because -- I don’t know about you -- I don’t work miracles, and I am unlikely to be exalted to anything like the Sanhedrin.  Don’t go looking for me living on any rocks either.  A cave maybe.  Not a rock.  

Something about Lydia was so remarkable that she made it onto the calendar of saints.  She was canonized pre-congregation so we don’t know a lot about her.  Maybe she did work miracles and stuff.  I don’t know.  But, I like to think that she was faithful, that she ran her business, cared for whoever was present, and loved God.  I want to believe that people like me can be saints too.

Forefeast of The Nativity of The Theotokos

Apodosis of the Dormiton and The Queenship of Mary
Our Lady Of The Angels

Does Pulcheria sound familiar to you too?  It should.  Know who she is?  I’ll give you a minute to wrack your brain……

Daughter of Empress Eudoxia.

Who would have guessed?

Eudoxia, for those of you who don’t remember, was the pain in the… I mean thorn in the flesh of John Chrysostom.  Of course, John had not been particularly diplomatic regarding Eudoxia’s manner of life, so to speak.  Extravagance was the homosexuality of the third century, apparently.  John preached against extravagance and Eudoxia took it personally.  Probably because it was directed at her. Anyway she didn’t like it much and that is the beginning of the story of how tactless sermons brought John down.  (See the post on John Chrysostom on the Saints Blog.  The saints are listed in alphabetical order.)

So the Empress Eudoxia and Emperor Arcadius had a daughter and she turned out to be a saint.  She seems to have come down on the right side of the heresies, or at least the winning side.  And she did a lot of good works. 

Here is a picture of John preaching against Eudoxia.  Actual photo maybe.

The lesson I think is that you never know who is going to turn out to be a saint.  So, if you had crappy parents and not much hope of turning out right, don’t give up!  Because, you just never know.

Rumi's Birthday


Today is the birthday of Mawlānā Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī,  مولانا جلال الدين محمد رومي‎ ​, also known as Mawlānā Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, محمد بلخى‎.  Some just call him Rumi. 

This should be a reminder to Christians what happens when a religion forgets its mystical tradition.  Lest we become like the Islamic animals who come only to kill, steel, and destroy, let us turn away from silly arguments and remember our mystical traditons.

There are loads of great saints today: The Martyrs of Crete, the beautiful sisters Anatolia and Victoria, Blessed Helen Guerra, even an Icelandic saint! But, my own saint for the day is Servulus.

Afflicted from birth with a severe palsy that prevented him from ever standing or even sitting unaided.  His family carried him to the door of Saint Clement's church in Rome so he could beg for alms.  He kept enough for the most meager existence, giving the rest to beggars he considered poorer than himself, and buying Scriptural works that he would beg people to read to him.  Saint Gregory the  Great wrote about him.

Most of my pals here in China tell me I shouldn’t give money to beggars. "They're all in a racket," they say. They helpfully inform me that "All that money goes to their handlers." Thus, I should just keep it in my pocket.  “You can’t save the world,” my pal Mac advises.  But, they read too much in to the mitzvoth.

What if just one beggar, just one, really needs it? What if one of the beggars is someone like Servulus? Just one. Wouldn't that be enough?

My faith requires me to give to everyone who asks.  It does not require me to evaluate the merits of giving, only to give.  Certainly much of what I’ve given away over the years has gone for beer and cigarettes.  What people do with the money, though, is not my concern.  My only concern is that I give.

Like Servulus, I don’t have all that much to give.  In talent, ability, and money, I am poor myself.  But, there’s no requirement on how much to give either.  All together my little gifts haven’t affected much change, it’s true.  But, I am not trying to change the world.  That’s not part of it.  And, you know what?   Servulus didn’t change the world either.  All he did was give. I am not concerned with the size or value of my gift.  My only concern is that I give.

Over the years my giving has done something even more amazing than change the world.  It’s changed my heart.  And, this is just a hunch, but I have a feeling that was the thinking in the mitzvoth all along.  Because I look for people in need, I’ve learned to look for Christ.  Because I see the poor, I see Jesus.  Wherever there is need, desperation, or even a scam… there he is.  

3 July 2006


Been thinking about that.

You can see pictures of Thomas here. Actual photo, I think.

And you can read some of the things he said here.

The church has taught us that Thomas was a doubter, and indeed he was. That much is true and that is pretty much what the readings for today say. The gist of it is that since Thomas doubted we need not be all that concerned when we too have doubts. Thomas turned out to be a saint, after all.

As usual, there is a grain of truth in The Church's teaching. I think we really can have some assurance that our doubts are not at all worrisome. But I think there' s more to it that just that.

Some people have said, and in my great wisdom I concur, that real doubt is the only evidence of faith. I am not talking about arrogant skepticism. Intellectuals and idiots alike can manage that much. I am talking about real, honest, not knowing. We Anglicans like to talk a lot about dwelling in the questions. Mystics sometimes glorify the cloud of unknowing. Nobody ever calls it doubt, though, because "doubt" sounds kind of unspiritual. We don't want to sound unspiritual.

Remember when I blogged on: "All things come of you, Oh Lord..." Well, then, you know where I think doubt comes from. I think it comes from God and, as usual, I am going to tell you why.

Doubt comes from God because all things come from God and nothing that exists comes from anywhere else. Surly sin and the devil have perverted most of it but that doesn't change the fact that God is the one who created it.

God created doubt for two reasons:

• It makes us truth seekers.
• Being truth seekers makes us truth tellers.
• Telling the truth draws us into God.
  

Thomas was a truth seeker and a truth teller.

Remember when Jesus was trying to comfort the disciples about his pending death? (John 13-14) It was Thomas who interrupted with, "But, wait a minute, I don't understand. Lord, you said that we know where you are going. But, I don't know. You said that we know how to get there too. But, I don't know that either."

Everyone else, I imagine, was going along with what Jesus was saying... Very nicely nodding their heads and thinking that they understood... Thinking that Jesus was about to set up his earthly kingdom and appoint them prime ministers of good times is what they were thinking. Just imagine all the disciples sitting around listening to Jesus describe a great new world order in which, instead of being despised tax gathers and small-time fishermen, they were going to be the ruling elite! From now on their Roman oppressors were going to serve them. What a self-important reverie that must have been! And then, just seconds before the fantasy was scheduled to become reality, Thomas interrupted with "Hey wait a minute... Let's just back up some because I don't really get it..."

But, it's the interrupter, the one with inconvenient questions, that may invite the most amazing answers from our Lord.


And then Jesus continues on with a series of remarkable statements which I am not entirely convinced were part of the original speech:

• "From now on, you know God and you have seen God because you have seen me,"
• "Believe in me, and you will do even greater works than I have done,"
• "Ask anything in my name and I will do it,"
• "You shall live because I live..."

There's lots more, and it goes on from there. Read it yourself.

Jesus makes these remarkable statements because one man, our friend Thomas, refused to just go along. Thomas was faithful to his own truth and he wasn't afraid to talk about it, "I don't understand," he cries out.

And I think this cry rings out throughout the centuries. How many prayers of desperation and despair are centered on this one theme: "I don't understand," or "Why, Lord... Why?" We've all prayed like that at some point.

It was with a history of questioning and doubting -- not just spouting off but deeply questioning -- that Thomas announced to his brother apostles that he would not believe in the resurrection unless he touched Jesus' wounds. For most it would be impudent to presume to approach the King of Glory in this way, to be so close, to touch not just his person but his wounds. And yet good old Thomas does not hesitate. He has a history after all... Over and over his candor in admitting his own doubts and questions, in revealing his own woundedness, has been rewarded with equal candor and revelation from Jesus.

Oh, the stories that have never been told about Thomas and Jesus going through all the questions and uncertainties that Thomas has... Jesus patiently, lovingly, laying it all out for him. Thomas, after all, is the independent thinker. He is the one Jesus can count on not to go along with the crowd. It's important for Thomas to get it right.

I imagine Thomas wouldn't have made much of a Christian. The church likes cowardly, equivicating, parishioners who don't really know much. It's actually encouraged. The Church doesn't do well with genuine doubt, the annoying and constant questions of those who do not follow the crowd.

But, if against all my sage advice, you should venture into that continent full of strange flowers and fantastic animals called the Church, know this: The Church is in desperate need of doubters, questioners, and annoying people. But, true-hearted doubters especially. They are the gift that draws us into the intimacy of Christ's woundedness and makes it possible for us to acknowledge our own. They know, because they are the bearers of a centuries-old mantle of questioning, that God responds to our candor in not knowing with equally candid revelation.

Just to put it briefly... As if ever... It's the doubters who make faith possible for the rest of us.

21 December 2009
I am so glad that the Anglican saint for today is Thomas because when I read the reading from Zephaniah 3:14-20 today I thought, “Really?  Really, Lord?  You will do that?”  It’s a doubt provoking passage because it promises everything we hope for:  “I will restore you,” God says.  “Your shame will be turned to praise.  The judgments against you have been taken away.”  Don’t fear, the Lord rejoices over you as if it were a festival, he will renew you, save the lame, gather up even the outcast like me!  Really, God?  Will you really do all that?  And then we are reminded of some famous doubters like Zechariah and, of course, Thomas.  There’s nothing wrong with doubting.  It was part of Thomas’ faith and he was a stalwart, honest about what he didn’t understand, and eliciting the most intimate disclosures from Jesus.  All through the gift of his doubt!  But, today, in light of this passage from Zephaniah I like remembering that all the doubts of all the doubters were proved baseless because the answer is YES!  Yes, God really does do all He says He will.

I suppose now it’s just a matter of when?