John 20:19-31 "Wanting More" Scott Hoezee

One of the most difficult disciplines that film actors need to learn is to resist the temptation to look directly at the camera. Actors need to pretend like the camera is not even there because if for even a second or two they glance into that lens, viewers see it immediately. In fact, if you've ever watched amateur video productions, then you know that one of the main things that distinguishes amateur work from professional films is that you can often spy one of the people in the scene cutting their eyes in the direction of the camera. It's hard to resist! But it's a problem because when it happens, it breaks the magic spell that films try to cast. Viewers need to suspend the awareness that this is just play acting so as to get immersed in the movie as though it were really happening. But the second some actor becomes obviously aware of the camera, the viewer is aware of it too and the gig is up.

Occasionally, of course, having an actor intentionally look at the camera is done for humorous effect. It becomes like an inside joke between the actor and the audience. This can be used dramatically, too. Sometimes the premise of a film is that the main character is himself telling the story and so he may frequently step out of the scene to look you in the eye. Otherwise, however, not looking into the camera remains a thespian rule of thumb.

If you read Matthew, Mark, and Luke, then you know that these three evangelists also avoid, as it were, "looking into the camera." They tell the story of Jesus straight out but without addressing their reading audiences directly. John, however, is different. Throughout his gospel John keeps stepping out of the scene to talk to us directly as readers. As you read various stories, it's almost as though John stops the narrative now and again to whisper into your ear, "Now, remember, when Jesus first said this to us, we didn't get it. It was only years later that we figured it out. OK, now back to our story!"

But nowhere is this as clearly evident as at the end of John 20 when we readers take center stage as John turns directly toward us. He even uses the second person pronoun: "This is written so that you may believe." You can almost see John's finger pointed in your direction. John does not in the least try to hide the fact that he was writing this gospel many years after the events recorded within the story. He is not shy about admitting that as a matter of fact, it took many years really to figure it all out. And above all he is not hesitant to let the world know that in and through it all, he is grinding an axe here: this is a purpose-driven narrative with the overt goal of producing faith in the hearts of his readers. Some modern scholars have claimed that the theological bias of the evangelists is precisely what makes them unreliable. How can you trust writers who are probably manipulating and skewing things in order to achieve the kind of portrait of Jesus they want?

Whether or not John could have anticipated that kind of thing--and maybe he and the other apostles ran into the exact same criticism already way back then--it's clear he doesn't care. Had someone asked John, "Are you picking and choosing your material, and then also spinning it and interpreting it a certain way?" John's straightforward reply would have been, "You bet I am!" The church has never had any doubt that the gospels were written with a certain bias based on faith and that they were composed with a definite interpretive slant. It's just that by faith we believe that what these writers chose to present and how they interpreted it all was absolutely true and correct because they were being moved and inspired by the Holy Spirit. Of course this is an interpretation of Jesus' life. But it's the right one!

Even so, if we are honest, we sometimes find ourselves wanting more. It's easy to be critical of Thomas in this passage--the moniker "Doubting Thomas" has been applied over the centuries as a none-too-subtle way of pegging Thomas and his attitude as that which we do not want to be like ourselves. In truth, however, there is more than a little of Thomas in all of us.

When Thomas was first told about the meeting with Jesus that he had missed, he was understandably guarded. As we said on also Easter Sunday morning, the notion that a dead man was back alive again was not exactly something you grabbed hold of and easily believed in a minute or two. So Thomas plays it safe but also then speculates aloud as to what it might take for him to believe this after all. As he talks, his rhetoric gets more and more exaggerated. "My friends, I'd have to see with my own eyes the nail holes in his hands. No, tell you what, I'd need to touch those holes with my own finger. Better yet, I'd want to stick my whole hand right into his side where the sword pierced him!" Thomas kept mounting up an ever-larger heap of evidence that he thought he'd need to believe.

Of course, once he does meet Jesus, all that evaporates. To paraphrase a traditional aphorism, if you don't have faith, then there will never be evidence enough to convince you and if you do have faith, no evidence is needed. Without faith, no evidence is sufficient; with faith, no evidence is necessary. And although most of us probably agree with that in principle, we can perhaps admit that sometimes we are still hungry for a little evidence, or a little more evidence than we usually have.

There is a reason why many Christians around the world have latched so quickly and tenaciously onto the discovery of what may be the ossuary or burial box for James, the brother of Jesus. There's a reason why every time archaeologists discover some inscription referring to King David, Pontius Pilate, or some other biblical figure that this news immediately makes a splash in the pages of Christianity Today. Here, we are told, is further "proof" that the stuff in the Bible really did happen! There's a reason why there is now a huge enterprise that is literally scouring the universe for evidence that the formation of the cosmos required the hand of a Creator God. It's not just that we want to meet evolutionary and atheist scientists on their own turf--most folks also quietly hanker for something tangible that can bolster the confidence they have in their faith. Over and again we find ourselves wanting more.

Jesus himself knows that faith is both a blessing and a miracle. That's why he says in verse 29 that while it was one thing for Thomas to believe with Jesus standing right in front of him, it would one day be quite another thing to believe without such undeniable physical proof standing in the same room. But John at least seems confident that he has given us enough for just such faith to be born. That's why he immediately follows this comment by Jesus with his own commentary in which he says, "Now listen, friends: I have left out a ton. Jesus said and did lots of other really amazing things that I just have not gotten around to even mentioning. But what I have given you is enough. Read it and believe!"

Now I don't know about you, but when I read how much John left out, there is a part of me that wants to cry, "Tell me!" It's rather like narrating a story to a little child. You know what happens the moment you say something like, "I've left out some of the best parts but I'm not going to tell you all that now!" The child's reaction is predictably along the lines of, "Awww, come on! Don't leave me hanging in suspense!"

There was so much more to say but John seems convinced that he had said and written enough. And by the Holy Spirit who guided John's pen, we believe that he's right about that. If John could know how many millions of people over the centuries have come to faith, or had their faith strengthened, by what he wrote in this gospel, wouldn't it most certainly reduce him to tears? Could he have had any idea how great an effect his carefully crafted account of Jesus would finally have?

Sometimes we may find ourselves wanting more, but by faith we need to be satisfied with enough, which is exactly what our God in Christ gives us. The same is true as we gather at this table again tonight. Throughout history this has been called a meal, a supper, sometimes even a feast or spiritual banquet. We still use these terms even though we know that really it's just a wee bit of bread and a tiny dram of wine or juice. This may be about the only place in life where you could get away with calling such meager fare a "meal." If someone invited you to their house for dinner but gave you just a slice of bread and some second-rate wine, I doubt you'd go home raving about the cuisine (you'd probably think twice before accepting another dinner invitation to that house, too!).

But, of course, we don't come to this table to fill our stomachs. However, even on the spiritual level this could strike someone as not a lot to go on. How can this act of taking ordinary bread and juice really be enough to nourish faith? This isn't as elaborate a ritual as a Jewish Passover seder. It's not as grand or colorful as the rituals you can find in many other religions. As a central and defining element in the Christian faith, this meal is rather simple when it comes right down to it. Shouldn't we want more even here? Don't we need something more to go on than this mysterious combination of remembrance and eating?

Having faith means that we will answer that question by saying, "No, our God has given us enough." Faith means many things and has multiple components, one of which is trust. Ironically, however, sometimes we need to have faith in our faith. That is to say, faith not only connects us to our God in Christ, it also causes us to trust the way by which we have become connected. Faith gives us not only confidence in God but also confidence that God has given us enough to go on, enough to sustain and nourish us. So we try to resist the temptation of wanting more. We don't get too uptight about whether or not we can find this or that new archaeological discovery to help bolster our faith. We have to trust that we don't need such things. We have to trust that no matter how much is learned by science about the universe, it will never spell the end of our faith in a Creator God. We have to trust that even though someone like John admittedly did not tell us everything there was to know about Jesus, he did tell us enough. And finally for this evening, we have to trust that ordinary bread and juice as they come to us through this simple liturgical ritual is enough. It is sufficient to usher us once again into the living presence of the living Christ.

"I didn't tell you everything," John said, "but what I have told you is meant to generate faith in your heart." Tonight through the Spirit we can hear Jesus saying something similar. "You do not have standing before you what Thomas had. But you do now have this bread and wine before you, and it is meant to strengthen your faith in me." And it does. Blessed are all those who do not see everything and yet still believe. Amen.