April 18, 2004
Second Sunday of Easter
Psalm 150
John 20:19-31

January 28, 1998. On this day I made my first visit to Berkeley. I was living in Santa Rosa at the time. With six months of California residency under my belt, it was time to venture to the renowned city of Berkeley. So on route to a retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains, my four housemates and I took a few hours to cruise through town. Of course our first destination was Telegraph Avenue! Somehow, somewhere in our wanderings, we passed a beautiful brick building. Just by sight, I slightly gasped, my step quickened and in that moment just before my eyes caught the sign, I knew what it was going to say! Congregational Church — United Church of Christ! Aaah! My soul was dancing… "Look," I said to my four Catholic friends, "It’s a UCC church." A bit bewildered by my enthusiasm, they smiled and sweetly nodded their heads in quiet affirmation. After all, they were Catholic. You expect to see a Catholic parish in every neighborhood. So why all the excitement?

Well, after six months of working at Catholic Charities, living in community with Catholic women and participating in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, I began to feel like the Protestant faith poster child. In my limited knowledge of Scripture, creeds, liturgy and rituals, I was frequently questioned, "What do you believe then?" By this time my soul was weary and hungry for the familiar, and there you stood. There YOU stood!

You are the home of my faith, you are the witness of love generation to generation, you are the seekers, the progressives…you are that love that had been the constant, stable, holding body of my New England congregational childhood church family. And who would have thought, here on the streets of downtown Berkley, I would find you!

It is with that same sense of surprise, relief and joy that I hear Thomas exclaim, "My Lord and My God!" Thomas has an interesting story. He’s a pretty decisive guy who will never be found sitting on the fence. Earlier in the Gospel, after the death of Lazarus, we hear his ready willingness to accompany Jesus. And he urges his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." (John 11:16). This depth of devotion is born only of great love and respect. So you can imagine, having missed Jesus’ appearance to Mary at the tomb and the other disciples in the locked room a week earlier, Thomas was buried deep in sorrow and grief, wanting to reach out and touch his beloved friend. How could the others have seen him? This is not fair. I will not believe them!

We who are skeptical, who dare to be uncertain, quickly jump to Thomas’ defense. Thank goodness, at least one of the disciples questioned the resurrection of Jesus! Many of us describe our lives as a spiritual quest or a sacred journey in which we are unafraid to express doubt and ask hard questions. In fact, as skeptics, we claim the importance and necessity of doubt and questioning. The poet Rilke offers this guide, "Live the questions now…you will eventually live into the answers."

But then the time came and Jesus appeared once again. In that moment as Jesus stood face-to-face with Thomas, there is a seamless movement from the depths of grief, confusion, and questioning into the light and life of his beloved friend, Jesus. More than looking and seeing, Thomas touches and feels. He feels the wound, the pain, the horror of the crucifixion, the separation and the love.

As we witness Thomas’ quick conversion, we must ask ourselves, how do we come to believe?

If we could all make such swift movements to belief what a different world this would be. But who do we believe when government leaders, corporate CEOs, pastors and priests, children, parents, spouses are caught in a lie and then manipulated even further by our media? Our society is trumped by cynicism. No wonder we jump to Thomas’ defense, "until you show me proof, I won’t believe it." But unless we take a stand against cultural influences, we are all fast becoming cynical people.

In fact, cynicism has seeped into our faith. These days we spend a lot of time questioning Christian identity. Many of you have read The Heart of Christianity by Marcus Borg and engaged in stimulating conversations here at church. We wonder, why do we follow Jesus? In the stories we have shared over the past few weeks, we too can feel the wound, the pain, the horror of the crucifixion and the separation. But we must not forget the powerful stories we tell year after year, capturing Jesus’ divinely infused human life.

Little use has been made of the Gospel of Thomas, the writings of our prominent disciple in today’s Gospel story. The Gospel of Thomas is a group of 114 sayings of Jesus discovered over half a century ago along with some other ancient texts. Although there are many similar sayings found in our four Gospels, Thomas captures a few new ones. Saying number two speaks to seekers,

"Jesus said: The seeker should not stop until he finds. When he does find, he will be disturbed. After having been disturbed, he will be astonished. Then he will reign over everything."

The life to which this Jesus is inviting everyone is not one of endless seeking, but one of finding the truth and power of human divinity by risking everything to uncover them.

We know that Jesus was a radical lover, offering a spirit-filled path for life, here in this world. To follow Jesus requires resisting the status quo, de-normalizing our everyday experience, deconstructing systems of domination — all in order to produce a culture of radical love.

As followers of Jesus, or any other path that resists harm to others, faith communities have this powerful but risky call to shape culture with light and love. We need culture because we are meaning making creatures. But culture is dialectic. Culture creates us…we create culture and the cycle continues. With cynicism swathing our light, can we live out the call of John’s Gospel — light will not be overcome by darkness?

I believe. And I believe because of YOU!

In these young and comfortable years of my life I lack the depth of experience to offer much testimony to belief. I do know that you planted a seed merely by your presence on this corner in Berkeley. The richness lies in you. The richness lies in this congregation that carries the experiences of struggle, depression, death, tragedy, loneliness, life in the face of death. I feel like a child asking her mother to believe in love and to be in awe of life…because these things you already know. Here in is this community God’s love is alive, the light of Jesus blazes our trail and the spirit sustains us.

One of our very wise elders shared with me, "There will be those times in life when belief and hope are unattainable, when you dwell in the dark shadows of your soul. But when you live in community, others hold your hope and keep on believing. My turn to believe and to hope always comes again," she says.

But from these bonds of community we have a charge. For someone is poking fingers at us.

During this past year at FCCB I have worked with the 6@First leaders and worshipping community as well as the Care Fellowship and Invitation ministry. In both of these contexts we feel confident about the amazing experience of community in this place. In both of these contexts similar questions arise. What story do we tell? How do we share our faith with others?

"Come," we say, "you just might be surprised!"

What do we want them to believe?

For me, your mere presence as a UCC church was enough to pull me to this community. But for others whose sacred journey has lacked the intimacy, love and power of a faithful community, how do we invite their poking fingers? Unless they can stick their finger in to feel and see…how will they know we are a flame ripping through the world’s umbrella of cynicism?

Perhaps my testimony will remind you of how much I needed you and how much you are needed by this world.

As I lingered for a moment at your doorstep seven years ago, on that first visit to Berkeley, you offered a flicker of hope of what my West Coast journey in the UCC might look like. And today, a month shy of my graduation from seminary, my heart’s burning passion for love and justice is fueled by a stockpile of memories imbued with your love and your actions. You have named gifts I never realized. You have celebrated and walked through every life transition. You have opened to me your life stories in your home, and in hospital rooms, as we have traveled together. You have sent me forth to minister in other places. You have always welcomed me home. You have challenged me to open and move from some of those traditional New England congregational ways! You have held me in this one wild, precious life.

And today, you continue to shine your light through me. It is an honor to receive. It is a joy to disperse.

You are a people of love, holding the light when another cannot, standing for justice, taking action and giving voice to the voiceless, for when love is the conviction behind all our acts, light is sure to shine forth, darkness will certainly crumble. I have no doubt about that! Praise be to God!