Blue Christmas Sermon, December 20, 2003

St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Fayetteville, Arkansas
A Sermon Preached for the Special "Blue Christmas" Eucharist
Held on December 20, 2003 (The Feast of St. Thomas, transferred)

I like St. Thomas. He is someone I can identify with. I like the other apostles too, but the stories about Thomas in all four Gospels reach out and touch something in my heart. In Thomas I see a person who loves deeply, questions deeply, and feels the pain of loss very deeply. In today’s reading from John’s Gospel, we heard the very familiar story of Thomas who doubted the validity of the resurrection unless he touched the wounds of the risen Lord himself.

If we rewind the tape a bit, we find Thomas and the other disciples as they receive word that Jesus’ friend Lazarus is gravely ill. Jesus announces that he will go to Bethany to be with Lazarus and Martha and Mary. Some of the disciples sternly warn Jesus that Bethany is in unfriendly territory; they say, “the crowd tried to stone you, and you want to go there again?” (Jn 11:8). But not Thomas. Thomas, the faithful and loyal one, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him” (Jn 11:16b). Now that is love; exactly the kind of love we mean when we talk about loving our neighbors as ourselves. Thomas loved Jesus, and was willing follow him and to lay down his life for him if necessary.

Later in the Gospel, after the last supper with his disciples, Jesus told them that one of them would betray him, and that he would die (Jn 13:21-38). Recognizing the horrific impact this has on his beloved disciples, Jesus said, “be not troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me” (Jn 14:1). Jesus told them that he will go ahead of them and prepare a place for them; that they will know the way to that place. At those words, I can feel Thomas’ heart begin to pound; his muscles in his neck and shoulders tense up; his mouth become suddenly cottony dry; his stomach grip. Thomas is so stunned by the very thought that the person he has grown to love so deeply is going to be physically separated from him that he can barely grasp it. “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” (Jn 14:5). Thomas loves Jesus so much, he just cannot imagine being in this world without Jesus.

Jesus understood Thomas’ and the other disciples’ pain. He said to them “Because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts” (Jn 16:6). And he again tried to comfort them with words of Truth. He said to them, “A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me” (Jn 16:16). And the disciples – including Thomas – were perplexed: “What does he mean by saying to us, ‘A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me’; and ‘Because I am going to the Father’?” “What does he mean by this ‘a little while’? We do not know what he is talking about” (Jn 16:16-18). Jesus tried once again to reassure them saying, “You will weep and mourn; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy” (Jn 16:20). Although they seemed to understand, Jesus knew they didn’t really comprehend. He warned them that the hour was coming when he would be taken into custody and they would scatter, each to his home, and they would abandon him.

Where was Thomas during all of this? The Gospel implies that he was among the disciples in the room with Jesus. But, while he physically may have been there, I don’t think his heart and mind were hearing much of what Jesus said. I imagine Thomas locked in that stunned place; his gaze fixed downward; fists clenched; where all he could feel and think about was Jesus’ dying. I imagine him feeling a sense of rage bubbling up, mixed with sadness so great that it impeded his ability to cry. I sense Thomas so completely overwhelmed at losing the friend he loved so much, that he could hear; he couldn’t think; he couldn’t comprehend. He invoked a coping mechanism related to denial that allowed him to absorb just enough information but not break his spirit. [1]

And then it happened. At a pace that Thomas could not comprehend, Jesus was betrayed, arrested, taken before Annas and Caiaphas, denied by Peter, taken before Pilate, rejected by the crowd, flogged, ridiculed, and crucified.

And where were the disciples? Who knows? The writer of John says there was only one disciple at the crucifixion. We guess that the rest fled, just as Jesus had predicted. Some of them went to Jerusalem, to the same room where they had shared the last supper with Jesus. There, with the windows shuttered and the doors locked, they huddled afraid for their very lives. Into that room Jesus came. The disciples saw the resurrected Jesus – all except Thomas. Thomas, who had loved Jesus so much had also withdrawn, not only physically, but emotionally and psychologically too. I suspect Thomas didn’t want to be with the other disciples because he just needed to be alone. It was his way of coping with the single, most profoundly tragic event in his life. And when the other disciples found him and told him that Jesus had miraculously appeared to them, he just didn’t believe them. He was still in too much pain to hear their words. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” (Jn 20:25b). The kind of cataclysmic hurt Thomas felt is not just a Bible story. It is a statement of real human reaction to the kind of unbelievable bad news or tragedy that happen in our individual lives and in society.

In 1863, Philips Brooks, four years out of his seminary training stood exhausted and overwhelmed in his church, Holy Trinity of Philadelphia. [2] Only two years earlier, Brooks had taken this, his first position as rector. He convinced Lewis Redner, a local real estate agent, to quit that work, and become his organist and Sunday school superintendent. Between 1861 and 1863 Brooks and Redner had filled the pews for the Sunday and Wednesday services, and over 1000 children attended weekly Sunday school classes. But, by mid-1863, the Civil War was killing national spirit almost as quickly as the soldiers were dying on the battlefields. Brooks was overwhelmed by the gloom that had spread across the country and through his congregation. At the war’s end, Brooks was fatigued and thoroughly demoralized. And his pain was intensified when President Lincoln was assassinated. The final blow to his spirit came when he was asked to preach at Lincoln’s funeral. He found the words needed at the time, but his spirit was completely broken. He was exhausted. His faith was shattered. And like Thomas, he fled.

And like Thomas, Jesus found him. In 1865, while on sabbatical, Brooks found himself in Jerusalem on Christmas Eve. Wanting to get away from the other Holy Land pilgrims with him, he borrowed a horse, and set out alone across a land that had changed little since the days of Paul and Timothy. It was at dusk that he rode into the tiny and remote village of Bethlehem. The sky was clear, and the first stars had appeared in the night sky. Brooks, considered by many to be the best U.S. preacher in nineteenth century found himself speechless, surrounded by the spirit of the first Christmas. He later described the experience as a “singing in [his] soul.” [3] I can only imagine that singing as something similar to what John wrote about Thomas when Jesus offered to let Thomas touch the wounds in his body.

As Brooks looked forward to the Christmas of 1868, he looked back on that horseback ride into Bethlehem. Although he had tried many times to express his feelings about that night, the words had not come. But this time he just let the feelings express themselves. He did not try to force them, he simply let them bubble to the surface. As he wrote his thoughts, the words and shape of a poem emerged.

Brooks soon shared his poem with his friend and organist Lewis Redner. Redner was so moved by the poetry that he began to compose music to accompany it. Time after time, he tried, but finally on December 24, 1868 he admitted failure. He went to bed that night disappointed that he could not put into music the same kind of majestic rhapsody that Brooks had put into words.

It was at night, while Redner was asleep, that something extraordinary happened. Redner ‘found’ an “unadorned and straightforward tune” that fit “perfectly with Brooks’ words.” [4] On Christmas morning, 1868, “O Little Town of Bethlehem” was complete.

Thomas sat, incredibly lonely, and terribly heartbroken. His hopes, his dreams, and the person he loved had been taken from him by evil, wanton, random forces. He was mad, and in deep, deep pain. But then, in the words of Philips Brooks, “How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts, the blessings of his heaven. No ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him, still, the dear Christ enters in.” And Jesus Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you” (Jn 20:26b).

There are all kinds of situations that can put us in the same place as Thomas. That is why we are here today. We gather together to honor each other and the pain, the depression, the anger, and the loneliness that makes this season for some, gloomy, dark, and anything but joyous. But we also gather because somehow, deep within us is a yearning for that peace that surpasses all human understanding. We desperately want it to come into us and fill us up.

Thomas hurt. Phillips Brooks hurt. And God heard their cries. And the wondrous gift of healing took place. But like Phillips Brooks and Lewis Redner found out, it takes time for that gift to be received and to grow. And perhaps therein lies our lesson and our hope. It is all right to feel badly. It is all right to hurt. It is all right because that good and loving God that has done great things for us will do great things for us again. God is always with us, feeling the pain just as we feel it, and experiencing the joy of healing. God knows that the holy child of Bethlehem will descend to us, cast out our hurt and enter in, and be born in us someday. Blessed are those who have not seen, blessed are those who are in pain, blessed are the lonely.

With faith that is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen, let us open our hearts and pray, O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-- on them light has shined. You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder. For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, *
then were we like those who dream.

Then they said among the nations, *
“The Lord has done great things for them.”

Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, *
will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.

Do not, therefore, abandon that confidence of yours; it brings a great reward. For you need endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised. For yet “in a very little while, the one who is coming will come and will not delay; but my righteous one will live by faith. My soul takes no pleasure in anyone who shrinks back.” But we are not among those who shrink back and so are lost, but among those who have faith and so are saved. Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with the other disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. 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.”

[2] The story of Phillips Brooks is adapted from Ace Collins. “O Little Town of Bethlehem” In Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas. (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2001), 139-145.

[4] Collins, 144.

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