Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” [from John’s Gospel 20.19-31]

Woven throughout the Jesus stories are moments of intimacy which move beyond words. Some of the most arresting images from art and film arise from Jesus’ encounters, or stories that he told.

The Pietà, rendered both in paint and stone, gives us cause to hold our breath; Rembrandt’s portrayal of The Prodigal Son has us hungering for such a restoration as this;  how often has the crucifixion’s depiction drawn us into silence, or weeping, or even despair at the malice of human hands?

We are wrapped within the mystery of Jesus’ resurrection at the moment. The moment of resurrection is neither witnessed nor recorded, so we are left with the blessing of wonder and confusion, doubt and fear.

The risen Jesus’ defiance of locked doors animates the conversation with  the frightened disciples, as he appears and offers the blessing of peace and the missional task of forgiveness. The intimacy of his blessing, followed by showing them the wounds he still carries is enough to contemplate for more than the short retelling. Jesus appears different, yet the same; he is alive, yet bears the wounds of his suffering and death.

It is Jesus’ encounter with Thomas which locates each of us within the resurrection story itself. Jesus exposes his wounds to Thomas and invites – risks – his touch. Is there any happening of greater intimacy than this? Any kiss, any tenderness, any dying moments, any death?

Thomas, called to step into the story of the risen, crucified Christ.

This gathering of cowards and betrayers is welcomed and forgiven. Can anyone doubt that, if Judas was still alive, Jesus would have equally invited him to touch his wounds and experience God’s rigorous mercy?

And thus, we find our place.

It is the invitation of Jesus to risk ourselves with him. Jesus asserts that, despite our fear and doubt, this is for us.

We are discipled in forgiveness, both to receive and to offer. What greater act, what more intimate word, could be spoken into our world, in this season of revenge and violence, of faith bastardised into nationalism or theocracy, when leaders threaten cultural extinction and pray for accurate missile strikes?

Mercy is not some gratuitous wave of the hand, or waiving of sin. It is the engagement of wounds shown (and perhaps touched), of acknowledgement of failure and harm, of forgiveness sought and offered, of relationship restored, of life discovered.

It is costly, and it is priceless. Jesus has invested himself in each and all of us.

The mystery and the wonder is that Jesus invites us. It is also the glory of God, crucified and risen.

… the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.[Matthew’s Gospel 28:5-8]

Fear and great joy, worship and doubt accompany each other as faithful, fearful disciples attend the tomb of Jesus, who has been executed. As Matthew recounts, nothing makes much sense from that point forward.

Earthquakes, angels, fainting soldiers and stories of Jesus alive. And, as always, the angel says to those confronted by wonder, or mystery, “Do not be afraid.” Fine.

One of the weaknesses for the church in recounting this impossible event is that we talk about Jesus’ resurrection as if we have seen an old friend down the street. To honour the accounts of the gospel writers and the experience of these courageous women, we need to hold the event with respect, with fear and a scintilla of doubt.

There is chaos. How do we know? The four gospels differ in people and timing and angels and who was running where, and who was telling (and who believed) whom. And this is at it should be. An account of God upending the world should not agree word for word, but offer an honest reflection of Jesus being raised, defeating death and saving creation.

The heart of our faith resides here. That God in Christ was human, that Christ suffered and was executed, that Christ was raised from death, is the ground on which we locate ourselves.

This does not make believing straightforward, or easy. The wonder of this moment is not always comfortably held in our hands and hearts, because our experience of the world around us chips at our faith, whispering in our ears that death is the final word and that true power is found in the mandibles of armies and the tweeted tantrums of emperors.

We need each other for this journey, for this remembering of our faith in the risen, crucified Christ. We need the company of other disciples, who are frightened and faithful, who are doubting and courageous, and who carry this resurrection story as did those first women, and the men who followed.

We need bread and wine and water, to remind us of the event which defines us, and to replenish us for this journey through our lives.

We will remember that God in Christ is crucified and risen. We will proclaim that forgiveness and new life are inherent in this moment. We will assert that death is not the final word; that life is spoken with wonder and hope as God’s complete word.

We will accompany each other on the road before us, to bless each other when our faith is strong, and to rerly on each other when fear and doubt are present. And the risen Christ goes ahead of us, as he promised.

May the God who shakes heaven and earth,
whom death could not contain,
who lives to disturb and heal us,
bless you with power to go forth
and proclaim the gospel.
Amen.