Act One. Scene One.

A darkened room in an anonymous house. It's evening. The disciples are huddled in fear behind closed doors. They’re lost and alone. Despair is evident on their faces. What are they going to do now? Their beloved Jesus is dead – crucified. The women tell them he has been raised from the dead – just as he had told them he would – but they don’t believe the women. Peter had gone to the tomb to check out their story. He saw only the burial linens – no body – but still they hide in fear. Likely someone has stolen Jesus’ body – a last affront to this budding and fragile faith community.

What next? Do they go back to their fishing nets? Do they split up and go their separate ways? Is what began in promise just three years ago all over? Can they regroup and go on? Can they carry on with the teachings of their leader now that he has died?

As they sit together – all of them but Thomas who is elsewhere this night – Jesus appears among them, shows them the wounds in his hands and his sides and proclaims, "Peace be with you". He gives them the Holy Spirit from his own breath, the power to forgive sins, and commissions them to go out to the people. He is sending them as God sent him.

As the curtain falls, the darkness and fear of that locked room have been transformed into the light and joy of renewed hope and faith. All is not lost. Jesus lives again and they will continue his ministry.

Act One. Scene Two.

Later that same night. Thomas returns and the disciples share the joyous news of the resurrection. The women were right. Jesus has appeared to them in this very room.

Thomas is not buying the story. "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."

There’s no way. Thomas is not taking anyone’s word for this. Seeing is believing and he hasn’t seen.

And so, the curtain drops once more as they disciples argue with Thomas, trying to convince a man who won’t be easily convinced.

Act One. Scene Three.

One week later. Same house. Doors once again are locked. All twelve are gathered this night.

For the second time, Jesus appears to the disciples and repeats his words of the last time, "Peace be with you." Then he turns his attention 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 believes in that instant. What the others had told him is true. Jesus lives and he has seen and touched the resurrected Christ.

But Jesus has more to say to Thomas:

"Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

Curtain falls. Lights go up. End of Act One. It’s intermission. Time to reflect on what we’ve seen and heard.

What do we make of Thomas? Is he really the "Doubting Thomas" we’ve come to think of as possessing a faith that wasn’t quite up to par? Was he wrong to question and demand proof? If he really believed all that he had heard and seen in the past three yeas, why would he now question? Was it necessary to poke his finger in Jesus’ side?

We have many questions about this story but we need to sit with them. The lights have just flashed. It’s time to return to our seats.

Act Two. Scene One.

Kingston General Hospital. The year is 1998. A theology student, working as a Chaplain, is going from room to room visiting patients. As the curtain rises, she’s on the Orthopedics floor. A patient greets her with a welcoming smile and immediately pulls back the sheets to show her the stump where a leg was amputated the day before. Trying not to visibly shrink back, but decidedly uncomfortable, the student gives the stump a cursory glance and tries to engage the patient in conversation. But it’s not working. After a few awkward moments she has a brief prayer and moves on.

The scene shifts to the surgical ward. We watch the student move from patient to patient, as each one shows her an incision scar or the place where a drainage tube comes out of their body. The scene is repeated again and again. The patients display their wounds. The student gives the wound a brief glance. The conversation becomes stilted and the encounter is brief.

The curtain drops on a bewildered student and disappointed patients.

Act Two. Scene Two.

The student is alone in the hospital chapel wondering what she is doing wrong. After much thought, contemplation, and prayer, it comes to her. Looking at and acknowledging the scars and wounds is an important part of the healing process. People needed to be able to trust her and her willingness to look at their wounds and scars was a part of gaining that trust. It was as if people were saying to her, "If you can look at my physical scars and not turn away, then maybe it’s safe to show the scars that are deeper."

Curtain falls as the student returns to her rounds, determined not to shy away from whatever she is asked to look at. It’s important, she now knows, to acknowledge the wounds and the scars and all they represent.

Act Two. Scene Three. Later that night. In the home of that student. She is reading her
Bible. It’s the "Doubting Thomas" passage. As she ponders the Scriptures and the day she has had, they seem to come together for her, and she exclaims,

"Thomas needed to experience Jesus’ pain and suffering in some tangible way in order to be able to connect it with his own and the suffering of others. In a small way, Thomas was entering into Jesus’ experience on the cross. To feel, even peripherally, a bit of that suffering could only deepen his belief in the great sacrifice of love that Jesus made – on behalf of Thomas and everyone else."

The curtain drops once more. The lights go up and the director walks out onto the stage.

The play is over he tells us. The final scene is ours to write – with our own lives.

What unfolds next is a little surreal. Some people storm out to the box office, demanding their money back. What kind of play is this that leaves you hanging with no easy answers and no pat solution? That’s the last time they’re ever coming here!

Others sit in small groups and discuss all that they have seen and heard. You listen in on a nearby conversation.

One woman tells of her gratitude for the Thomas story. In questioning, Thomas has validated our own questions. Through his need for confirmation, we know now that it is OK to ask to hear the story again and again, as often as we need to.

We weren’t there on that first Easter morning. We didn’t see the empty tomb.

Thomas wasn’t there to see Jesus when he first appeared to the disciples.

The context in which Thomas lived his faith had been altered by the death and resurrection of Jesus and he needed to experience the story again.

And because Thomas, a faithful and committed follower and friend of Jesus, questioned and wondered while still maintaining his faith, we too can believe and still questions. Our faith is not diminished but rather strengthened by our questions.

Others in the group nod thoughtfully. Then a man speaks up,

"It’s fairly easy to believe on a bright and sunny Easter day. We had one like that last week in Verona on the shores of the lake. As we watched the rising sun shine on the still water and the solitary loon slowly drifting across the lake, it was easy to believe. We sang our praises, heard the scriptures, and believed without question or doubt."

"But", he continued, "There are other darker and troublesome times in life and when the tough times come, our belief is tested. It’s not so easy to believe when a loved one dies unexpectedly or you lose your job or your child is critically injured in an accident."

"What happens to our faith then?" he asked. "Are we still able to believe in a compassionate and loving God in the face of tragedy and loss?"

And a teenager in the group answers, "We just keep on believing. We ask to hear the stories of God’s love over and over again. Even when we face great pain, we can remember that Jesus also suffered and that God gave him new life so that we, too, might have new life in him."

It’s getting late -- time for you to go home. And as you leave your seat, the group is still talking. Some people, at least, have understood the message. It will not die but live on in their thoughts and conversations. And they will tell others. And somehow, everything that is wrong will someday be right.

In the back corner of the theatre a solitary man rises from his seat and smiles knowingly as he leaves. An usher whispers in your ear, "That’s the author".

And your hearts skips a beat as you catch a glimpse of his hand, a hand wounded and scarred.

Amen