A Reflection for 2nd Sunday of Easter All Saints’
Church, Southern Shores, NC April 3, 2016 Thomas
E. Wilson, Rector
Climbing In Through the Side
Caravaggio Incredulity of Thomas
I don't know about you, but I have had those moments
when I wish I could have a “do-over” -those moments when the words are out of
my mouth but not out of my memory, and I
want time to stop and go back, grab back those words or deeds, and pretend they
never left my barely- conscious motivations. The excuse “It seemed like such a
good idea at the time!” just doesn't cut
it. Those humiliating moments haunt my life at the “2:00 in the mornings” of my
soul, and I want to hide from them. I find the only way to exorcize those
moments is to confess them to a loving person as part of my flawed character,
and we use them as part of the healing of my sin of pride. It is when I am able
to laugh at the foolishness of those moments, when I was pretending to be
something I am not. Laughter at our own foibles is the beginning of sane
wholeness; denial is the descent into insane fractured living.
Let me tell you of one such moment that I can now
laugh at. In seminary my field placement was on the University Chapel staff,
helping out with the Liturgy and ministering to undergraduates. The Chapel was
the size of a standard cathedral, and the liturgy was always quite grand. As a
seminarian, I wanted to show that I was in my element, in case the job of Dean
of the Chapel came open when I graduated. I did not want to be a parish priest;
I wanted to be part of an academic community, and I had so many ideas about my
own dignity.
The chapel was built in a cruciform shape, the shape
of a cross. The top of the cross, the liturgical east end, was the high altar
against the wall - magnificent! There
was a big brass altar railing to keep the riffraff from getting too close to
the holy space. Then there was a long quire area where the choir stalls, the
Chapel Staff stalls, and the huge organ consoles were, with a pulpit, high
above contradiction, on one side and a lectern
on the other facing the nave, the seating area for the congregation which could
accommodate 1250 people. Seating in the quire and chancel could hold 150 people.
Then there was the crossing of the nave with transepts in the liturgical north
and south ends. The distance from the west wall to the east wall was a little
more than 2/3 of a football field. There was a tower that had a carillon whose
bells had a combined weight of 23 tons, with the largest bell, the Great
Bourbon, weighing 7,500 pounds. The Chapel is called All Saints Chapel, and it
was a perfect fit for my ego at the time.
As the Prayer Book had changed, there was a
temporary accommodation for a free standing altar with a wooden platform at the
head of the nave with about 4 or 5 levels. On one such occasion I was wearing
my new boots, bought with my library work study money, and this was their first
day out of the box. I was on duty as a Chalice bearer, one of two people giving
out wine, and I was walking up the platform steps to refill my chalice when the
tip of my boot caught the edge of the step and I fell down flat behind the
altar. The organ was playing and the choir was singing an anthem so no one
could hear, but all I could think of was
“Did anyone hear the words that were coming to my mind as I was falling?
Did I actually say those words?” With wine dripping off my beard staining the
front of my robe, I refilled the now really empty chalice, and wrapping myself
in my tattered dignity, resumed the task of giving out of the wine.
It was one of the best things to happen to me, for I
started to take myself less seriously. It is now a small source of pleasure
that I find so much joy in this All
Saints’, which can only seat a seventh as many people as the All Saints Chapel,
for this place perfectly emphasizes the community gathering for worship rather
than the majesty of a religious institution.
I have a fondness for the Disciple Thomas, who is
referred to in today's Gospel reading from John. The name Thomas comes from a
word meaning “twin”. In some ways,
Thomas is my spiritual twin. If there is a symbolism in the choice of names,
Thomas may have seen himself as the “twin” of Jesus when, earlier in John's
Gospel, Thomas made all sorts of ego-boosting statements when Jesus was still
alive. He had bragged that he would join Jesus in his death, but he had fled
like all of the others. Filled with guilt about his ability to measure up, he
let that guilt get in the way by not meeting with the disciples on the first
week. He agreed to meet with them the second week but told them that he found
the story of Jesus' resurrection hard to swallow. He comes to the meeting, and
his challenge is answered by the Resurrected Christ. This Christ does not make
fun of him, but lovingly take seriously Thomas' need to come closer to
relationship with the source of all life. Thomas, knowing that he is no longer the
center of his universe, affirms that the Christ is now his Lord and his God. I
like to think that he was called Doubting Thomas in response to his friends
laughing with him, not at him, about the time he let himself get in the way of
a relationship with a full life.
Thomas' life changes, and there is nothing else in
scripture to tell us of his life. But tradition tells us that Thomas went to
India where he was martyred in 72 AD. The Mar Toma church in India traces their
founding to his ministry in the same way Rome traces its founding to Peter. Thomas
was the Doubter, and Peter was the Denier, weak people who find their strength
in the loving embrace from their Lord. We are all weak people, and we are all
people who find our true strength with the one who allows us to receive his
loving embrace.
Climbing
In Through the Side (poem)
Thomas looks back at
that moment asking,
“Why only ask to put my
hand in his side,
fingers in nail holes; when
need to abide
fully in him, claiming
a life I am seeking?
Can I enter fully into
his pain and sorrow
for this broken world
acknowledging all
instead of hiding
outside as on a far atoll
hoping it will all go
away some morrow?
But this is the morrow,
now is a moment
of decision to wake
from a walk sleeping
status-quo to arise to
share love keeping
for all of us broken
trying for atonement.
Leaving all resentment
behind as clutter,
hearing words of peace,
in him I do utter.
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