HIS IS THE Third Sunday of Pacha, and, in the Eastern Rite, it is the Sunday of the Myrrh-Bearing Women. At least for the Gospel, we depart from the RCL readings for today and use a collection of readings from Mark (Mark 15:43-47; 16:1-8). We’ve lectionary evidence for this paschal cycle being used (in some places) least as early as the 7th century.

The second passage in today’s reading is also used as the third of eleven Matins Gospels in the Eastern Rite. Each Sunday is seen as a celebration of the Resurrection and so each Sunday Matins, on an Eleven Week Cycle, celebrates this event with certain hymns and readings.

When I was first Chrismated, attending an OCA parish in San Francisco, these Matins Gospels were read – following the Slavic tradition – at a vigil service the night before. In a darkened church, the Holy Doors would open and the light would blaze forth from the altar with Fr Victor’s strong voice singing the resurrection. Then we’d come forward and venerate the Gospel. Later, when I was in Asheville, the Antiochian Parish there followed the Byzantine tradition which serves matins in the morning prior to liturgy. These readings were done in the full glory of a North Carolina sunrise.

And, for some reason, they seemed less true to me.

How do you get from “they were so afraid they didn’t even do what the Angel told ‘em to do” (ie “they said nothing to anyone”) to yelling “Khristos Aneste” all the time? And why is it that there, in the dark of a church at midnight, a candle can seem so powerful. But in the full glory of a weekly Easter Sunrise, it seems doubtful?

How do you deal with doubt?

As I noted last week, the Gospel of John seems to allow for doubt. Mark does too – but it gets covered up. The textual evidence indicates that the Gospel of Mark used to end right here, with the women saying “nothing to anyone, for they were afraid” and running off into the Morning light. They couldn’t handle it – didn’t know what to do. And so in their fear (which is another form of doubt) they just ran away. Later the text gets doctored up with the remainder of the chapter (11 verses written in a totally different style and telling a different story) that make this Gospel look more like other Gospels. But that first ending leaves us wondering “What the hell happened here?”

And today we celebrate those women.

How do you handle Doubt?

Imagine an Easter story that stops here – with the Angles saying “go and tell the other apostles…” and the women apostles being so scared (of Jewish leaders and Roman soldiers and the Supernatural and the men-folks’ scorn) that they just run away and hide.

Of course that’s not the end. And the answer to doubt is experience.

So I would stand there, listening to the stories from the Matins Gospels, I’d sometimes catch myself smiling: there are gaps in the stories so wide as to drive a truck through. The gaps in these stories we tell ourselves are filled in and covered over with a spackling paste of traditional understandings, projections and mythologies. As I blogged recently: tmatt asks, in his famous “tmatt trio“:

Are the biblical accounts of the resurrection of Jesus accurate? Did this event really happen?

This is, of course, a trick question: there are no biblical accounts of the resurrection. None at all. There are only written tales of various events – visions, angelic visitations, appearances, suppers, breakfasts, second and third hand accounts, etc – of events that happened after the death of Jesus and the discovery of his empty tomb.

What happened sometime after midnight that Saturday evening or Sunday Morning? The Gospels do not tell us. The hymns of the church tell us that, according to the Church’s understanding, there were no witnesses. Even the Roman guards were prevented from witnessing the mystery – so that it might be revealed only to those who believe.

Last week, in response to the story of Doubting Thomas, a preacher friend of mine suggested that, in fact, we should doubt things we can’t see with our own eyes: he said that doubt is not the opposite of faith, fear is. This week we have clear evidence fear and I’m reminded of the Apostolic counsel that “perfect love drives out all fear”. There, I think, lies the answer to doubt: experience of Love.

This entire first generation of Christians went to their death rather than deny the resurrection. I don’t have any reason to doubt that, at least. One looney I could write off – in fact, the last 2000 years of religious lunatics and fanatics says nothing to me about the validity of the resurrection. But every one of these folks that were terrified, confused, boggled and hiding, everyone – except the Beloved – went to death rather than say this wasn’t the way things happened. We’ve no record of any of them recanting – and the Romans and the Jews would have made much of it if there was even just one. They were all looneys together, clear. But as Peter says in the Epistle today, “To this we are witnesses.”

But what about us (blessed are those who have not seen…) and our doubt? What about us and our fear of the modern-day counterparts to soldiers, leaders and scoffers? How do you get from the second generation of Christians to us? And how do we pass it on to the next generation?

The sermons in this series on doubt will fill it out: next Sunday, the Sunday of the Paralytic, we leave aside “Resurrection Appearances” and make the journey of verification. We will follow it up with the Sunday of the Samaritan Woman and the Sunday of the Man Born Blind. I think we’ll see then. It’s clear: Doubt is a part of our experience. Faith, per se, is not the answer to Doubt… this journey through Pascha will bring us to Pentecost and – doubts and all – we’ll be ready to spread the Good News of Resurrection.

NLY ONE Week after the Resurrection and our readings for today (from the RCL) confront us with the two things we least want to hear about in church: money and doubt.

We have two layers of Church History here: The early church, we are told, received from each according to their ability and gave to each according to their need. But the earliest church – the 11 – couldn’t convince one of their own that Jesus was raised except for him to see, touch and believe on his own.

We also have a couple of textual layers here: the Johannite material has the apostles receiving the Holy Spirit via the breath of Jesus. The Lukan material – perhaps to accentuate the universality of the Holy Spirit – portrays the spirit coming on Pentecost. The early communism of the church is in response to this Pentecost experience.

Imagine being, for a moment, in the room that day that Jesus showed up the first Pascha. Imagine (or project, at least) your joy. Imagine your astonishment. Then Jesus departs (for where, you do not know) having breathed on you something called “The Holy Spirit”. Then in the middle of your spiritual high comes Thomas… “Bah! Humbug” he says.

How do you react? Tell me, how you treat Thomas now? Here he is, one of the Lord’s chosen 12. But one of them has already betrayed him. Another one has already denied him and everyone in the room ran away at the most important point in the story. And yet all of that has been forgiven and Jesus was just here a moment ago – Sorry you missed him, Tom, but really: he was just here! “Bah! Humbug” he says.

How do you deal with his doubt?

The reading in Acts is the set-up for the story of Ananias & Sapphira: essentially the story is one of “everyone shared everything, except these two, and they died”.

How do you deal with doubt?

Preachers at St Gregory’s Church in San Francisco get feed back: the parish tradition holds that “we continue the work of preaching together”. After a time of silence the congregation is invited to share their own personal experiences which were called to mind either by the sermon or by the readings. The Sunday I preached, Gay Pride Sunday, there were a good few friends in the congregation. The first person to speak said, in response to my sermon, “that’s all very well and good for you who believe in Jesus, what about for those of us who don’t?” And there was an uncomfortable laughter around the room: but no answer was forthcoming. I still don’t know the answer.

How do you deal with doubt?

I think that the answer might come later in our reading from 1 John: Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. (4:20)

When first contemplating these readings for Thomas Sunday, I was sitting in a coffee shop in Buffalo – near the back. Reclining on a sofa next to me were a man and a woman who had about them the air of street people. They were unwashed, although the woman had finely painted nails and red, high heeled shoes of a sort that could not but be called “Spikey”. The longer I sat there the more they seemed to me like a prostitute (she even had a gold lamé vest) and her friend or dealer or pimp. Not sure. At one point he got up and announced he was going out on the street to panhandle a bit. While he was gone she napped.

The entire time I sat there watching I really wanted to make some text/tweet/facebook comment about prostitutes and the coffee shop on Saturday Morning. But every time I typed it… I deleted it. Finally, I looked over there and some switch clicked in my head about Jesus and Prostitutes. And I realised I wasn’t being very Christian at all. About the only thing I could come up with that was not at her expense was “Kyrie Eleison”. How can we love God, whom we have not seen…

There was in the coffee shop another man who offered the lady some coffee. He had clearly spoken to her before: she joked with him and everyone at the table laughed. I heard him – clearly across the coffee shop – ask her if she still had his phone number. And to remember to call him if she needed anything.

How odd to find Jesus in Spot coffee in the body of an African American Muslim.

Jesus says, “Blessed are those who do not see and yet believe”. And yet the only way we know of our believing is to love those whom we do see… even the ones who deny.

How do you deal with doubt? The real issue for us is to realise that doubt is not a doctrinal question: it is a moral one. Doctrinal questions are easily settled by appeals to literalism and various texts – the Bible, the Fathers, the XXXIX Articles, the Liturgy, Hymns, whatever. But moral issues are solved only in relationship. My doubt is in failing to see Jesus present in the coffee shop. For me Jesus can’t be risen even though he was present for me to touch and see if I had only believed enough to do so.

It’s easy to be there on that first Pascha: Jesus walks into the room with us at every turn if we can but believe enough to see him.

How do you deal with doubt?