‘Not the way they do!’

In the Easter story of the Gospel of John, Thomas was not with the other disciples when the risen Jesus came to them. When told, Thomas insisted, “Unless I see…I will not believe.” A week later, Thomas was with the disciples when Jesus returned a second time, and Thomas, seeing, confessed, “My Lord and my God!”

Then Jesus said to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

John’s Gospel was written near the end of the first century and was read by Christians who had not been alive in the days of Jesus, who had never seen Jesus— as we have never seen Jesus. So the blessing is appropriate for us: Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.

The thought of blindness terrifies me. Waking up in the dark. Living in the dark. Walking out into the street not knowing what’s there. Never seeing color, a sunrise or a loved one’s face. Not knowing what someone means when they exclaim, “Isn’t that beautiful!”

And just so, it can be terrifying in this life when we are blind to so much. Blind to the purposes of what we call chance. Blind to the Divine in the human. Blind to the concept of everlasting life. Blind to the potential in what we believe is tragedy. Blind even to the existence of God.

There is a film entitled The Scent of a Woman, in which a retired Army Lieutenant Colonel, Frank Slade, lives life blind because he once tried, unsuccessfully, to juggle a unpinned grenade. On one occasion, he is accompanied to New York by a college student, Charlie Simms.

They get out of a cab and Charlie takes Frank’s arm. Frank jerks away and raises his voice: “Are you blind?” Then louder and more emphatically, “Are... you...Blind!”

Charlie stutters, “Of course not.”

Frank corrects him, “Then why do you keep grabbing my arm? I take your arm!”

I feel that in our spiritual blindness (which is our inability to “see,” and thereby, have faith in God’s triumph in all ends) God doesn’t take our arms. We are the ones who are blind; we take God’s arm; and by doing this we come to believe. It’s not easy. Being blind cannot be easy. And true faith is not easy. Someone has said: “There is no harder work for the Christian than to just believe, and to continue in that belief.”

In rural Nebraska in the early 20th century, three of the four children in the Koontz family died of diphtheria during holy week. On the following Easter morning, Mr. and Mrs. Koontz and their surviving child attended church. Because Mr. Koontz was Sunday school superintendent, he read aloud the Easter message. Although many in the congregation wept, Mr. Koontz and his wife remained calm.

Later, another boy who was walking home from church with his family said in amazement, “The Koontzes must really believe the Easter story.”

His father answered, “All Christians do.”

Thoughtfully, the boy replied in awe, “Not the way they do.”

Make no mistake: The world is so hungry, dying and crying for belief in resurrection— for belief in a Christ that has risen and a God who truly makes all things new. And the first thing the world looks to, despite all the world’s avowed cynicism, is the Church. The world really wants to know if these followers of Jesus “who have not seen” have really come to believe. When someone one day says, “All Christians believe the Easter story,” may it be said of us: “Not the way they do!”