The story we hear today from John’s Gospel is one of the great set pieces of the New Testament. It’s almost theatrical—you could stage it. There’s a man born blind, sitting where he has always sat. There are disciples asking the question religious people always ask when they encounter suffering: “Whose fault is this?” There are neighbors who can’t believe what they’re seeing, parents who are terrified of getting involved, religious authorities who are so certain they already know how God works that they cannot recognize God working right in front of them. And at the center of it all, there is Jesus—making mud, touching a stranger’s eyes, and doing something so odd, so physical, so deliberate, that we’d be wise to slow down and ask why.

Because what Jesus does here is not just a healing. It is, if we have eyes to see it, an act of creation.

The whole narrative turns on the question of recognition: who can see what God is doing, and who can’t?
The people who miss it in this story are not bad people. They are devout, careful, learned. But they have already decided what God’s work looks like, and so when God’s work shows up in a form they didn’t expect—in mud, in mess, in a man they’d written off—they can’t take it in.

The one who sees it is the one who was given new eyes, clay eyes, God-made eyes. Eyes that hadn’t yet learned what to filter out.

You can see the whole video by using this link.

Faithful Thomas: sermon for 16 April 2023 (the Second Sunday of Easter Year

The text for this #sermon is John 20:19-31, which tells of two post-resurrection appearances of Jesus

One week on from Easter, we read in John’s Gospel about the disciples meeting together one week after the Resurrection. It is anxious meeting: they were

gathered behind locked doors, because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities.

They have heard rumours that Jesus is risen, but that’s not enough to take away all their fears. They have heard rumours of resurrection, yet they are still fearful.

One of the strongest bits of evidence for the reality of Jesus’ resurrection is that it changed his disciples from men and women mourning their lost leader, to people who were prepared to bravely proclaim that he was risen. They became willing to bet their lives that the Jesus they had seen crucified was now alive . But that drastic change didn’t happen instantly.

For in all the Gospel narratives of the Easter event, there is uncertainty, unease, disbelief, along with moments of confident faith. Mary finds the tomb empty, and thinks at first that Jesus’ body has been stolen. When she meets Jesus, she at first doesn’t recognise him. When the women tell the male disciples that Jesus is risen, they at first respond with scorn and disbelief. When the religious authorities hear from soldiers who have been guarding the tomb about the resurrection, they bribe them to keep quiet about it.

That something has happened, something utterly unexpected- that much the disciples know. But working out quite what has happened, understanding what it all means- that took time.

And so, the friends of Jesus gather, a week after Easter, in the evening, the time of day when often our fears and unease are at their worst. But then their risen Lord is suddenly with them, saying ‘Peace be with you’, showing them his hands and sides, speaking of forgiveness and the Spirit- and they are filled with joy. For those of faith, Christ comes through locked doors, bringing joy even when our anxieties are at their worst. For this is the Christ who promised his disciples,

I will be with you always, to the end of the age.[1]

Another strange detail: Christ shows his disciples his hands and his side. The wounds from where the nails had been driven through his hands, and the spear had been thrust to make sure he was dead. Why would he point out these reminders of his horrible suffering to his disciples?

Because, by showing his wounds, Christ indicates two things to his friends.

Firstly, that it is really him. They are not dreaming of Christ, remembering him as he was before he went to his death. We often remember those whom we loved, not as they were at the end- suffering on a hospital bed, perhaps- but as they were in their prime. And that is lovely, and the way it should be, for those are the best memories.

But this vision of Christ that the disciples are seeing doesn’t come from their favourite memories of him. They are seeing the Jesus who went through torture, suffering, death and burial. This is no sepia memory, no vision of their friend in his prime. It’s a present Jesus, the one who had been executed, dead and buried, now alive in an entirely new way.

And the second thing that his showing his hands and side says to them is this: that it is through his suffering and dying that their salvation comes. It is because Jesus had been nailed through his hands, and a spear thrust into his side, and because of his many other sufferings, that the disciples now know joy.

Very often in Holy Week, Christians recall the words of Isaiah 53, which is often known as the Song of Suffering Servant. This mysterious figure seems to represent Israel, who is redeemed by God even although, as a nation, she suffers so much. Christians later applied it Christ, as they tried to understand the meaning of the cross. And so, we say that

‘by his bruises [or wounds] we are healed’.[2]

Somehow, the suffering of Christ is the means of our salvation. You see, it is not that Easter is simply a reversal of Good Friday. It’s not like a science fiction movie, where you can go back in time and change events from earlier, so that bad things don’t take place. The wounds of Christ proclaim that Good Friday did take place, that he was, indeed, betrayed and condemned and crucified. Yet out of all that pain, suffering and horror comes something very, very good.

In the Gospel of John, the glory and suffering go together. In John’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of being ‘lifted up’- a reference to his crucifixion- and says that that way, he will be exalted:

When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to me.[3]

The cross is where we see the divine glory most clearly, and it is the place from which salvation comes. God, in Christ, offers himself, so that through his suffering, healing can come to our broken creation.

But one of the twelve disciples has missed all this. Thomas, for some reason, wasn’t there when Jesus appeared to the others. So, when his friends say, ‘We have seen the Lord!’ he is understandably sceptical. He replies,

‘Unless I see the scars of the nails in his hands and put my finger on those scars and my hand in his side, I will not believe’.

Because of these words, he’s been called ‘doubting Thomas’. But I rather admire him, for he is looking for proof for something which is inherently unlikely- that his friend, Jesus, is back from the dead. If he is going to put his faith in Jesus, he wants to be on sure ground.

The following week, the disciples gather again- still behind locked doors. And this time Thomas is with them as Jesus again appears with the words, ‘Peace be with you’. And then there is this wonderful dialogue between Jesus and the disciple who wanted to know more:

Then [Jesus] said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and look at my hands; then reach out your hand and put it in my side. Stop your doubting, and believe!” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Do you believe because you see me? How happy are those who believe without seeing me!”

There’s three parts to this dialogue, and it’s worth thinking briefly about each one.

Firstly, there are the first words of Jesus to Thomas. Thomas wanted very concrete evidence: he wanted to see the scars of crucifixion on Jesus’ body, to see the wound in his side where the Roman soldier’s spear h plunged in. And Jesus answers his questions: touch my wounds, he says to Thomas- here are my scars. Thomas encounters the risen Christ, and realises that Jesus knows what his questions are, understands why he would not believe.

It’s wonderful that, when the risen Christ meets with the disciples the second time, he has words especially for Thomas- the one who had been left out, the one who lacked the confidence of the others, the one who had the questions. When Jesus shows Thomas his wounds, it is not to poke fun at him- he’s taking Thomas’s questions very seriously, and giving him an answer.

It is not easy to believe. So, the church should learn from Jesus, who made a point of speaking to Thomas. The church should have a special care for those who don’t find it so easy to believe, and be willing to hear the doubts and questions which people have about faith. You will see that I am planning a group for those new to the church to explorer faith. But we really ought to have a place for anyone who wants to ask questions- even if they have been around the church for a long time. By the way, I love it when people ask me hard questions- please feel free to ask me anything any time!

And secondly, there is Thomas’s reaction. It is not the cry of a beaten man: ‘OK, you win, I was wrong’, but the cry of someone who has found what he was looking for. ‘My Lord and my God!’ is a beautiful, simple confession of faith. Thomas had understood that if Jesus was, indeed, back, that had incredible implications.

When Thomas had said to his friends, ‘Unless I see I will not believe’, he was indicating just how important this issue was. And not that he does see, he believes with all his heart. Because Christ is risen, Thomas understands that his friend Jesus can be none other than his Lord and his God. Thomas gets it! We ought not to call him doubting Thomas, but faithful Thomas, the one who first realised just what the implications of Easter were, and summed it up in a confession of faith and loyalty to Christ: ‘My Lord and my God!’

And thirdly, there is Jesus’ reply to Thomas:

“Do you believe because you see me? How happy are those who believe without seeing me!”

These are the words which bring you and me into the story. These words to Thomas are also directed to those of us who are hearing or reading this story. For we are the ones who believe, although we did not see.

Because we cannot see Jesus for ourselves. We can never experience quite the same experience of the first disciples. We can only listen to them as they say, ‘We have seen the Lord’. Or rather, we hear those words come down to us through many generations. John the Gospel writer says his book has

…been written in order that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through your faith in him you may have life.

Sometimes this is called the ‘apostolic tradition’- what has been handed down to us over 2,000 years- the memories of those who first knew Jesus, gathered and written up in the New Testament, and then handed on and preached and taught down the generations.

Every generation of disciples of Jesus since the first Easter have believed without seeing the risen Christ. And yet, like Thomas, Christ has a special word for each of us. We have inherited the apostolic tradition, passed on down through the centuries, which has been heard and lived out by Christians in bad times and good, in times of sadness and times of joy, by people of great faith, and those with lots of questions: the faith that the risen Christ still stands among us, and blesses those who, through faith, believe in him.

Ascription of Praise

To God be honour and eternal dominion! Amen.

1 Timothy 6.16 (GNB)

Biblical references from the Good News Bible, unless otherwise stated

© 2023 Peter W Nimmo

Featured image: The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio, 1573-1610. Neues Palais in Sanssouci, Potsdam, Germany. from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54170

[1] Matthew 28.20

[2] Isaiah 53.5 NRSV 

[3] John 12.32

The manuscript for today’s #sermon, “The Good News Is … Revealed Through Nonviolence,” is on my blog at https://jeffsjottings.wordpress.com/2026/03/08/the-good-news-is-revealed-through-nonviolence/

In this sermon, I look at two passages from Matthew’s gospel to explain why I believe the way of Jesus is a way of nonviolence and how there is no such things as a “just war.”

[Worship Service] Sermon - “Jehovah-rapha, The Ultimate Healer” Mar 8 2026

https://youtu.be/N2ktub7Guy8

https://odysee.com/mar82026:67f543052630a6596b294810e3171e809eb34467

https://rumble.com/v76tkk8-worship-service-sermon-jehovah-rapha-the-ultimate-healer-mar-8-2026.html

#Church #Sunday #Sermon #SundayService

Over the next few weeks, including this weekend, my calendar is such that, between travel and other commitments, I’m not going to be able to keep my weekly sermon posting schedule.

I’m sorry about that. And extra sorry that this weekend I don’t have a sermon from three years ago to share instead.

But I see that one of my favorite preachers, Andrew Gerns, has already posted his sermon for this weekend.

Here’s a taste:

To this day, Photini the Samaritan woman is honored in many cultures. In southern Mexico, La Samaritana is remembered on the fourth Friday in Lent, when water flavored with local fruit and spice and is given to commemorate her gift of water to Jesus. As I said, the Orthodox know her as St. Photini. In Russian orthodoxy, she is Svetlana, which means “equal to the apostles,” and she is honored as apostle and martyr on the Feast of the Samaritan Woman.

She is remembered because when she recognizes the Christ her identity changes. She leaves her water jar behind and goes and finds her friends and neighbors to tell what she has seen and heard.

Jesus breaks down the barriers of gender and nationality and the woman is bold enough to both remind Jesus of what separates them — he a Jew and she a Samaritan — and of what connects them — their ancestor Jacob. Photini is audacious and spars verbally with Jesus and in the process she experiences him as prophet and, more than that, the Messiah. And she takes that news to her village, her family, her people. Both in the encounter and in the telling, she is changed from the inside out. Two people at the well meet each other’s thirsts.

You can read it here.