As a student at Trinity
College and an occasional visitor to Christ Church Cathedral during the late
1950s, I had no reason to think that about three decades later I would become a
member of this congregation!
As a Cheshire Academy faculty
member from 1965 to 1967, I had no reason to believe that the local rector, who
had been a choirboy here, would become Bishop of Connecticut, or that about two
decades later I would assist his then curate, now our dean!
And, certainly, when I first
met Canon Jones some 15 years ago when he was a guest speaker for a college
ethics course I teach in Waterbury, I never imagined that I would be using
Helen's office after his retirement!
In January, when I finally
decided to conclude my part-time pastorate at St. Paul's Parish, I wanted to
become part of another congregation. St. Paul's had put up with me from age 37
to 50 and helped me arrive at this point in my life more human than in 1974. Be
glad that you were spared the task of "bringing up THIS Father!" And, do be
patient with me as I now learn from you.
St. Thomas (of today's Gospel)
is very special to me! My late father's name was Thomas, as was my
grandfather's. My middle name is Thomas. During the 2nd grade I was called
Thomas by my Dominican teacher; she believed that St. Thomas was more worthy of
a namesake than the two lesser known St. Richards! But I've never known for
sure whether she preferred Thomas the Apostle or the great Dominican St. Thomas
Aquinas!
Although I admire greatly the
philosophical explorations of Aquinas, my favorite of the two is Thomas the
Apostle. I can identify more with a skeptic than with a scholar providing
apparent certainties. Part of me will always remain childlike: asking
why; doubting; seeking reasonable and sensible explanations; adventuring
beyond tradition. I know that if I had been in Thomas's place, being told that
Jesus had been resurrected, my initial response would have been similar to his
words "Unless I see .... I will not believe it!"
This leaves me in an odd
position! I question claims and beliefs. I am astounded when some other people
trust individuals claiming to have prevented hurricanes; I am taken back when I
discover otherwise sound men and women embracing astrology, fortune tellers,
and mediums; I am shocked when someone insists that they know God's mind on all
moral issues. I remain unconvinced of the validity of their assertions.
And, yet, this skeptical
Thomas before you is a Christian, an ordained one at that
………because I share with Thomas the Apostle a witness to the
sensibility of the Risen Christ!
I am convinced of the Gospel,
in part, because of the Risen Christ's wounds. The healing of the transfigured
Lord did not conform to human expectations; Christ was neither restored to his
healthy physical condition of Holy Thursday, nor was he transformed into an
unscarred spirit. There he was, risen, changed, yet bearing his Good Friday
wounds.
You and I have our share of
Good Fridays, don't we? We have all been wounded by our own mistakes, by
injustices, by unsolved problems affecting us, by doors slammed in our faces,
by personal betrayals, by deep and sorrowful losses.
Paula D'Arcy (author of A
SONG FOR SARAH) and her husband Roy were my colleagues. Over a decade ago,
Roy and their daughter Sarah were killed in an auto accident on Route 84 in
Farmington. Paula's pregnancy was not interrupted, and her daughter Beth is in
her early teens today. Just a few years ago I asked Paula shy she had not
remained bitter and desolate after that horrid wounding. She admitted that for
some time, that's exactly how she felt. However, eventually she realized that
she could not undo what had happened, but that she could choose what to
do with the rest of her life. She could remain with her Good Friday, or she
could grow toward her Easter. Paula's new life began at that point, when she
decided, with the grace of God and with friendship from others, to allow
healing to take place. Her healing did not eliminate the memories, the scars,
of her Good Friday; but she was revitalized and has journeyed in brightness.
The Roman Catholic Archbishop
of Hartford, John F. Whealon, who underwent cancer surgery a few years ago
wrote these very personal words in a message to his flock: "I am now a member
of an association of people who have been wounded by cancer. That association
has as its symbol the phoenix bird. The reference is to Egyptian mythology,
which told of this bird...flying off to Phoenicia, burning itself up with fire,
and then being reborn in its own ashes. In the same way any person with an
ostomy is considered, phoenix-like, to have risen from the ashes of disease and
to have been given a new lease on life. That is true for anyone who has
survived a struggle with cancer. Suddenly life becomes more precious for having
been and for being so precarious. Now each hour is lived more fully. Each
friend, each person seems much more real, comes so incredibly alive. Now the
sky seems more blue, the sunshine more beautiful, the colors more vivid. And
even the dull and ordinary things are causes for gratitude to God for their
wonder and beauty." Archbishop Whealon could be living in a tomb of self-pity,
hopeless defeat, and chronic sadness, but his trust in God's power has opened
his eyes to new visions of life; with scars remaining, he has been raised to
new beginnings.
A resurrected meaning of life,
one that encourages new beginnings and new adventures, in a precarious world of
uncertainty and ambiguity and pain, is like a quality shoe. You don't know
everything about it; you learn just enough to put it on and wear it; worn well,
it supports you in mud and sunshine polished often, it remains bright;
accompanied by another, it gets you where you're going, even to places you've
never been before!
I cannot witness the
Resurrection of 2000 years ago. And I have some unanswered questions about the
whole event; however, I accept Madeleine L'Engle's recent comment "Faith is
only valid when it is accompanied by doubt." But THIS "Thomas" has witnessed
the power of God's love, grace, and peace in my own life and in the life of
others also bearing wounds, such that I, too, believe. Easter is a
joyful and powerful event of the past and within our scarred lives as you and I
journey forward together, consciously choosing, yes even insisting on, a
victory - a victory of wonder, light, and peace. Happy are we who have never
seen the Risen Christ and yet have found faith through the power of God's
healing love in our lives. May we show forth in our lives what we profess by
our faith! Alleluia; Amen!