The Shadow of Doubt

A Sermon preached at St Martin-in-the-Fields on April 16, 2023 by Revd Dr Sam Wells

Reading for address: John 20: 19-31

Christianity is the only one of the world’s great religions to be falsifiable. Buddhism is based on meditative practices and profound convictions about reality, while Hinduism arises from stories and traditions lying deep within Indian culture. Judaism tells a story of how God encountered Abraham, Moses and David and of the truth of God revealed by those legacies. Islam is based on a holy book written down from visions experienced by its founder. None of them is subject to a historical event that, if proved false, would nullify their credibility.

By contrast, Christianity rests on the historicity of the life of Jesus, the claim that he is God as well as human, and the witness of his earliest followers that he rose from the dead. These things are either true or not true. If they’re not true, Christianity’s built on an imaginary foundation; it may speak truth in the way poetry or fiction speak truth, but it can’t claim any authority, still less have a valid vision of where life comes from or where it’s going. If it is true, there’s still a lot of work to do to establish what these things mean: but to state the obvious, the resurrection of the one who is fully human and fully divine is the central moment in history from which all other events derive their meaning.

The gospels don’t give us any middle ground. It’s not as if this is a question on which you can choose not to have an opinion. That’s because they portray two versions of existence. The one is represented by the cross. In this version, life is short, justice is a fantasy, violence is everywhere, trust is quickly destroyed, courage is feeble, human bodies are brutally nailed to wood, the crowd is cruel, leaders are vacillating, conniving or cowardly, love is shattered, agony is pervasive. The other version is represented by the resurrection. In this account, joy outlasts despair, love outlasts death, the stone of mortality cannot contain the effervescence of life, God’s desire to be with us can’t be thwarted even by harsh nails and a thrusting spear, hope abounds, faith is rewarded, and we belong with God forever. For the gospels, there’s no middle ground. We can’t say, ‘Let me get back to you on that,’ or ‘I’ve always struggled with the doctrine of the Trinity,’ or ‘That all unravelled for me when my last church fell apart.’

A lot in us says, ‘Hold on a bit. That’s not fair. You can’t resolve existence in such a binary way. You can’t say life without faith is as cruel and unforgiving as the crucifixion; and life with faith is hardly a bowl of cherries. There’s got to be large grey areas where we take our time and dwell amid the mysteries.’ When we say this, we’re assuming something we seldom actually articulate. And that is, that faith today is harder than it was for the people around Jesus and for those writing the gospels. We assume it was somehow more straightforward in the first century. For a start, people met Jesus, or met people who knew Jesus: this wasn’t ancient history. But on a subtler level, we assume they were not as sophisticated back then. We understand science, and history, and psychology. We have so much knowledge, wisdom and clear-sightedness. Which gives us the ability to not make up our minds. Whereas back then they were ignorant and found it easy to decide.

I want gently to take us down from our high opinion and tendency to think of ourselves as better than those in days of old, and look at how the story we read in John chapter 20 addresses not only all the concerns of the first disciples but also all of our concerns today. I’m going to suggest we have three kinds of concerns – three reasons that cause us to doubt. Reason one is distrust of other people. Many of us have found our lives undermined by being profoundly let down, cheated or exploited by those we trusted, depended on and loved. Sometimes this is about intimate relationships; other times it’s about people we don’t know personally, but admire and place our hopes on but turn out to fail us in ways that make it hard to believe in anyone again. The disciples felt like this when they saw Jesus being arrested, tried, tortured and crucified. They thought he was immune from all that and it could never happen. They admired his power as well as his wisdom and love. Suddenly he looked all-too human. They were devastated. Just as we are devastated when someone we love turns out to be all-too human.

Reason two that causes us to doubt is a cosmic fear. For all the intensity of life, the pressure of deadlines and challenges, the responsibility of care and the passion of political and sporting debate, we all from time to time look up into the sky and wonder at the tiny world we inhabit and the indescribably colossal universe in which it revolves, and we struggle to imagine if anything matters for more than a fleeting moment; if anything becomes of our obscure existence, if our little lives make any mark on the ledger of eternity. We wonder that as we face death, but the truth is we’re all facing death all the time, with greater or lesser success in distracting ourselves from its creeping clutches. The disciples had thought Jesus was a link between heaven and earth, time and eternity, what matters now and what counts forever. But on Good Friday it seemed he’d been squashed like a fly. Their fear and dismay were greater for their hopes having been raised so high.

Reason three for doubt is our fear about ourselves. To meet someone who’s untroubled by self-doubt is a rare and splendid thing. When you go to a smart occasion and at the end of the evening you realise you had a zip undone or some underwear showing you feel embarrassed and foolish. But the truth is most people were too preoccupied with their own split trousers or uncomfortable skirt to notice. We have two fears about ourselves – one that we’re a fraud and will be found out, the other that our impulses or desires or fears get the better of us, and we’ve done some things that would cause us shame if others knew, and we don’t deserve to be in worthy company. Deep down we don’t feel we belong because we’re not good enough. The disciples certainly felt that – they’d all betrayed, denied or fled when the crucial moment came. How could they even look Jesus in the eye afterwards?

Let’s see how this story of resurrection on John chapter 20 addresses our three reasons for doubt. We’ll start with our distrust of other people. There’s three dimensions to this. The doors of the disciples’ house were locked because they feared the people who’d executed Jesus. Then when Jesus appears the disciples were terrified of him. Then Thomas, who wasn’t there, distrusts the story the disciples tell him about seeing Jesus. Jesus deals with all three forms of fear and mistrust with one word: ‘Peace.’ He says it three times – once to dispel the fear of those outside, the second time to take away any fear he’s going to be angry with the disciples, the third time to address Thomas face to face. What he’s saying is, ‘Don’t worry about other people. They may well have let you down. I won’t let you down. They may well turn out to be untrustworthy. You can trust me. They may well be selfish, cruel and hurtful. I’m generous, gentle and truthful.’ He said it to the disciples on Easter evening. He says it to us today.

Let’s turn to our cosmic fear, that we’re tiny specks in an unforgiving universe and death will obliterate us forever. Jesus says, ‘See my hands, the hands that were pierced by nails, and my side, the side that had the spear thrust into it.’ Then to Thomas he says, ‘Put your finger into the nail mark and your hand into the spear mark. You may be worried that it’s a terrifying universe: but right here you can see the power that made that universe. You may be fearful that you’re a tiny speck in a massive cosmos: but you’re looking at the reason that cosmos was created. You may be anxious death will take away your whole existence: but look here – it hasn’t taken away mine.’ He said it to the disciples on Easter evening. He says it to us today.

Let’s finally look at our third concern. We’re a fraud and we’re not good enough. Jesus has an answer for this too. He says to the disciples, ‘I’m sending you, just as the Father sent me. I’m breathing the Spirit upon you, so you can be agents of reconciliation in the world.’ Here’s what he’s really saying. ‘You think you’re good for nothing. It actually doesn’t really matter what you think of yourself. What matters is what I think of you. I know you better than you know yourself; I made you. I’ve got work for you to do. If I’ve got a use for you, you’ll find out who you really are by getting on with that work. Don’t think you know better than me. Get down to it. It’s not about you believing in me; it’s about me believing in you.’ He said it to the disciples on Easter evening. He says it to us today.

There was a time when doubt was dangerous, unusual, brave. Today it’s normal, and it’s believing that’s dangerous, unusual, and brave. But all of us have doubts. All of us. You look round this church this morning. All of us. We all have broken hearts from people who’ve let us down. We all panic about our tiny obscurity in an unforgiving universe. We all feel we’re not good enough. But here’s the good news. Jesus doesn’t let us down. Jesus outstays every fear, every force, every feeling. And Jesus has a job for us to do. Do not doubt but believe – that through believing, you may have life in his name.