Tag: Church

Easter Confirmation

On June 8, 2025

On the Sunday after Easter, the Gospel reading (John 20: 19-30) presented us with two stories of Jesus’ appearances to the disciples. In the first, Jesus appears to all the disciples except Thomas and shares with them gifts as signs of his resurrection. Directly following is the second story of doubting Thomas, which seems to legitimize doubt in the life of faith since it involves one of the disciples. I also suspect that Thomas is popular in a modern world which is suspicious of traditional religious authority and favors the right of the individual to seek independent confirmation of religious claims. That Thomas should become a model for faith is surprising, since the ending of the story includes a mild rebuke of Thomas, which is easily overlooked. Given the differences between the two stories, each offers a distinctive perspective on confirming the resurrection. Here’s why.

Let’s start with the story of Thomas: After Jesus appeared to the other disciples, Thomas refuses to believe their testimony unless he sees Jesus himself and can touch him. When they are all together, Jesus appears to all of them and tells Thomas to touch his hands and side. Jesus tells him to believe and not doubt, where upon Thomas declares: “My Lord and my God.” But the story does not end there, with Thomas being the great example of finding faith while struggling with doubt. Instead Jesus says: “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen but yet have come to believe.” (John 20: 29)

That’s a strange ending if Thomas is the hero. Is he the model for faith or not? To understand the last verse, we must consider the context. John is writing to Christians 60 to 80 years after the resurrection. None of his readers have seen Jesus before or after the Easter event, nor have they even seen any of the witnesses. They are what we might call second generation Christians. They only know about the gospel and Easter by reports from the witnesses. In fact, they do not have the option of insisting on a new appearance of the risen Lord. From this perspective, Thomas’ request sets him apart from all the readers of John’s gospel. He is demanding special treatment which none of them may receive. Also bear in mind that even though we come centuries later, we too are second generation Christians, i.e., we depend on the witness of the women and disciples.

So, what is John’s purpose for including the story of doubting Thomas in his gospel? The question is important in light of the fact that holding up Thomas as the dramatic model for faith stands in tension with the need to address the second generation. Let me explain.

The initial theme is presenting Thomas the apostle as the definitive witness to the resurrection, set against the background of doubt regarding all the other witnesses. Such a story would appeal to the second generation, which never saw any of the witnesses. Not only does the story have what some would see as the apostle’s courageous refusal to believe unless he sees and touches the body of Jesus, but the center piece is the appearance of Jesus who encourages Thomas to believe and not doubt. Then this culminates in the bold confession of Thomas. It should be noted that “Jesus is Lord” is the oldest confession regarding Jesus and becomes widespread in the early church. So it would appear that the Thomas story is loaded with things to aid the second generation in believing.

But then a second theme emerges, which cuts deeply into the adulation of Thomas. It begins with a rebuke of Thomas for believing only because he has seen. Remember that Thomas asked for something no one else can ask for or receive. It is here that the story is disappointing: by receiving an answer to his request, Thomas becomes a witness, like all the others. For the story to be persuasive, we must trust Thomas as a witness, which is exactly what Thomas refused to do with the other witnesses. What began in the hope of getting beyond trusting the witnesses now ends up just there: having to trust Thomas and the other witnesses. While his story may be more dramatic than others, it leaves the second generation with the question whether they can believe without seeing. But then another twist occurs: Jesus blesses the second generation for believing without seeing. It is not Thomas that is blessed but the readers of John’s gospel. This is disappointing because the most definitive and dramatic account of the resurrection still leaves the second generation having to trust the witnesses. It would appear that they do not have any other option. Or do they?

It is at this point that the first story offers some help. Again, it is set in the evening when the disciples are together in a room (except for Thomas). Jesus appears and shares four gifts: 1) peace; 2) a mission (“As the Father has sent me, so I send you…” 3) the Holy Spirit; 4) the authority to forgive sins. Let me say that such gifts are mentioned at the close of the other gospels in various ways, the most notable being the Great Commission in Matthew 28. It might be best to call signs of the resurrection.

This brief story strikes me as a very different from the story of doubting Thomas. Instead of focusing on seeing and touching the body of Jesus, the story centers on what we might call signs of resurrection which form the community in new ways. In this story the appearance of Jesus moves directly to instances of transformative power: peace, a mission, the Spirit and the ability to forgive sins and resist the powers of anger and vengeance. In the context of our divided and violent world, these are significant. Peace is not an ordinary, common practice. Nor is accommodation to violence unusual, as today the world stands by while Russia reduces an entire country to ruble, Gaza is destroyed by bombs and its people starve, and Jews are killed on the sidewalk in Washington. For good reason the first word spoken by Pope Leo XIV was “Peace.” In a similar way, where there is clarity of mission, people reconciled to one another by forgiveness, or the presence of the Spirit, there is confirmation of Jesus’ resurrection.

Once again we are confronted with the question whether faith is necessarily tied to other people or specific actions. Can you believe in the resurrection and reject the four signs? It is hard to imagine, but we need to avoid expecting all believers to live out their faith in the same way. But the accounts of the resurrection draw believers together and they are given the Holy Spirit and sent on a mission to proclaim the gospel. (cf. Acts 2) In the Gospel and Letters of God, it is unimaginable to speak of faith in God without loving one another. Now we must be clear: the signs of resurrection are not the resurrection, but it is safe to say that where there is resurrection faith, there are the signs of peace, mission, the Spirit and forgiveness.

For a moment, consider these two scenes as two perspectives on the resurrection. Both involve reference to Jesus’ physical presence, but for different reasons. In the first story, Jesus’ presence is connected to experiencing the impact of Jesus as risen Lord. The appearance of Jesus becomes a Pentecost event for the writer John. In the story of Thomas, seeing and touching the body relate to certainty about the resurrection itself¸ as played out in the struggle between doubt and belief, but then is suddenly placed in the context of the second generation.

Now before we drive a wedge between these two views, let me affirm that both are part of the Christian witness to the resurrection. If there were no bodily resurrection, questions would be raised whether it was all in the imagination of the disciples. Conversely, without the experience of new life stemming from the risen Christ, the witness to the resurrection would lack spiritual power. From the standpoint of the needs of the second generation—which is our situation—the first story is more helpful and persuasive. This is not to disregard questions about the resurrection itself. There is always a need to include the accounts of the witnesses. They are the ones who insist that something happened to cause them to affirm that Jesus is Lord. But as Thomas illustrated, if you do not have that experience, one can be caught between doubt and belief. In contrast to Thomas, we do not have his experience.

I conclude from these observations that in the task of confirming the resurrection, the signs of resurrection become decisive. The church needs to be spending time on how the resurrection forms the community in a new way and gives direction as to who we are, what we shall do and how we shall relate to one another. This is not unusual, since there have always been two approaches to confirming the resurrection: the appeal to the witnesses and the offer of signs of resurrection: peace, mission, forgiveness and the Spirit testify to Jesus as Lord.

In other words, confirming the resurrection now relates to whether:

You are at peace or know anything about what makes for peace.
You have purpose connected to the Rule of God. (Note Jesus said you cannot serve two masters)
You have received a spiritual rebirth.
You know anything about the forgiveness of sins (Note that the Amish consider forgiveness of sins a social practice required in order to hold back the power of vengeance and violence).

Viewed from this perspective, we seem to be moving toward saying that the accounts of the witnesses inspire faith when the signs of resurrection impact our lives. The testimony of the witnesses to the resurrection needs to be joined with a community where lives are changed by a mission, the presence of the Spirit of Christ, peace and the forgiveness of sins.

Given all this it should not surprise you when I say that it is very difficult to talk about the signs of the resurrection apart from the common life of believers gathered in churches. The idea of an individual Christian set apart from all common life may be possible, but it is the exception. All of the signs of resurrection imply a common life of worship, prayer, study, service and fellowship. Peace is found among people struggling with divisions and violence and the need to be reconciled to enemies. To struggle with the need to forgive requires a community inspired by the Spirit, which celebrates that we were born to live for one another. Participating in congregations is not a popular thought today, as so many seem to be seeking individual forms of spiritual life apart from churches. I will never say that Christ or the Spirit are confined to churches. What I will say is that when believers gather to hear Scripture, where the gospel is proclaimed and there is a common life based on sharing bread and wine, in such places we may find signs of the resurrection.

Being and Doing

By Peter Schmiechen

On May 4, 2025

In Grace, The Church, Theology

One way of exploring the life of faith for both Jews and Christians is to use the terms Being and Doing. Let’s begin by saying that Being has to do with the state of a person, i.e., heart, mind and soul; while Doing has to do with how a person expresses themselves in momentary or extended actions. I would even add that Doing includes the way we think, since thinking happens within a person formed with a specific Being. Thinking and doing are not the same in everyone because they are derived from different forms of Being in different cultural settings.

But things get complicated: On the one hand we assume that actions grow out of a person and so we ask: “Why did he do that? But on the other hand, what one does can influence and form a person’s Being. Much education includes training, even practice, in performing certain actions (and prohibits other actions) on the assumption that such repetition will become habits, which in turn will be internalized. That is, the child will come to understand the reason for such actions and will eventually do them voluntarily. The actions no longer need supervision by parents and teachers but become habits of the heart.

So why is this distinction important? To begin, the goal of true religion for both Jews and Christians is a new form of Being and Doing, formed by the gracious action of God. This gives Being a certain priority since it represents the relation of the believer to God in terms of faith and commitment, love and gratitude. But Doing is also essential, since the Being formed by grace finds expression in specific forms of Doing. Take for example the Shema: ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord our God is One and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5) The passage goes on to say that “…these words shall be written upon your heart…” and you shall teach them to your children. Jesus affirms the same point: faith in God means voluntary and intentional love of God and neighbor, arising from the person transformed by grace. Such heart religion can never be reduced to a list of things to believe, unrelated to the heart. Luther and Calvin insisted that faith was not a good deed to gain acceptance by God, but the joyful trust of the heart toward a gracious God. To the extent that religion becomes defined only in terms of ideas or actions, it runs the danger of lapsing into lifeless repetition of seemingly good words or deeds which have no relation to the state of mind or heart. From what has been said, we can see the dynamic relation between Being and Doing. Doing is dependent on Being as a relation to God, and Being as a relation to God cannot exist without acts of love. Paul’s great sermon on love (I Cor. 13) affirms acts of love as greater than faith or hope. The First Letter of John declares that if one does not love, one does not know God. (I John 4:8) In this light Being and Doing cannot be separated. When pressed, this leads to a surprising point of view, namely that anyone can do something good for a neighbor in need, by design or accident. But true religion involves hearts and minds in joyful love of God and neighbor.

We now are at a point to ask: Given the way hearts and minds have been orientated in the ways of the world and our own self-centeredness, how is this new form of Being and Doing possible? When the New Testament speaks of redemption, reconciliation or liberation, it is pointing to the possibility of a major change in our Being. Whether we describe it in terms of a re-orientation, or a deconstruction of the old form of self-hood and the re-construction of the new, what is being affirmed is the possibility of change, resulting in a new form of Being.

Consider several examples:

1. The first thing Jesus says in Mark 1:14 is to announce the presence of the Kingdom of God followed by a call to repentance and faith. The sequence is crucial: something is happening which requires and makes possible a change. Repentance is a turning of hearts and minds from current commitments to trust in the Rule of God. The disciples are called to give up the standards of the world and accept the rule of love. Referring to the old ways of ruling over others, Jesus says: “But it shall not be so among you.” (Mk 10:43) We cannot serve two masters: One must choose to let go of the old and receive new life.

2. The Gospel of John begins with the declaration that the very Word of life and light “…became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father.” Such an event makes possible such a drastic change that it can only be compared to a new birth. (John 3) This makes no sense to Nicodemus, and Jesus makes clear the new birth is not something we can control, but comes of the Spirit. In a similar way Jesus speaks of living water and the bread of life.

3. Paul thinks we are so weighed down by sin, fear and the powers of this world that the change must be comparable to dying to the old life and rising with Christ to new life. Transformation is possible because it involves one no longer living to oneself but living in the power of Christ and the Spirit. In Galatians 6:3-4 he declares that he can expect great things of believers because they are a new creation. Years ago Paul Tillich re-phrased these words, suggesting we think of this as a new being.

In these three cases, we need to note the peculiar sequence: First, the agent of change is God. These are not self-help stories. We do not improve, heal or restore ourselves.

Second, all talk about something new in us and the world is dependent on something God has done. For Jews, there is a constant remembrance of God’s liberation of Israel from bondage in Egypt. For Christians it is the life, death and resurrection of Jesus which constitutes the new event. Whether you wish to point to Christmas, his calling of disciples, healing the sick, liberation from demonic power, creating a new covenant, his faithfulness unto death or God raising Jesus to be Lord, all of these constitute the new reality in our midst which generates a new Being.

Third, from this new Being there comes the mandate to act in new ways. Note the order: we are not called to bring in the Kingdom by ourselves, or to do things if we think they are good. Rather, we are commanded to act because we have been drawn into the new Being by the grace of God. As I learned years ago, the indicative always precedes the imperative. What is in Christ becomes the basis (or possibility) for a new Doing. Nowhere is this more evident than in Paul. He begins with what is: God in Christ changing the world. Then he admonishes us to be what we already are in Christ. Take his words in II Cor. 5:16, where he makes the transition from what is to what is possible with the words: “From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view….” In a sermon on this passage I stopped and said: Take a card and write on it: “From now on, therefore!” When you want to know what time it is, pull it out and read it. No matter what the time is at Greenwich, England, the real time is always: “From now on, therefore!”

Fourth, and so important because our culture ignores this: The new Being is always a communal existence. The exodus culminates in a Covenant; Jesus calls disciples into a New Covenant community. The new Being of the community, as well as that of each individual contained therein, is sustained by worship, prayer, the sacrament of the new covenant, as well as acts of fellowship, service and evangelism.

Now let me raise the question: How is this affirmation of Being and Doing affected by the church crisis and does what has been said offer any clues regarding the way forward? For seven decades, mainline churches have lost members (from 30% to 50%), hundreds of congregations, a decline in seminarians and a loss of funds. The decline in members has been especially painful since data suggests that mainline churches were not able to retain confirmands. In effect we lost our children. With little success at evangelism, decline and loss have dominated the mindset of church leaders. That is the current world of mainline Protestant churches, but we should add that Roman Catholics and Conservative Protestants have experienced their own form of the crisis. We need to ask about how religion has been affected by the culture and why people choose life on the edge of churches or completely outside of churches. And I would hope we would avoid thinking that the new Being is only in churches.

Here’s several things we know. First, since the 1960’s the culture wars have dominated the way churches define themselves. We have struggled with divisions over wars, civil rights, women’s rights, the environment, LGBT rights and many more issues. This has generated a tense situation between liberal and conservative Christians, but just as importantly, divisions within every local church. In America the church has been defined as a voluntary association of like-minded people. But the culture wars revealed that we are not like minded. In this respect, the culture wars exposed the fact that the church of agreement is dead and that we were not at all sure about the basis of unity. Was it a matter of belief or just a political process of majority rule?

Second, in American society, religion is something the individual chooses. As a result, people can be religious or speak of Jesus outside the church. Religion does not naturally involve a community with spiritual and social practices. As a result, congregations are not seen as an essential part of being religious—in fact, they are too often seen as merely a means to do certain things.

Third, Americans are optimistic and tend to claim innocence, be they liberal or conservative. In fact, conservatives now use the power of the government to forbid the discussion of certain issues like racism, lest such discussions make people feel pain. In such a culture, there is confidence that people can realize personal goals of happiness or solutions to moral problems by themselves. In the context of the traditional link between sin and grace, the claim to innocence undercuts a distinctive way Christians talk about faith in terms of human need or the call to repentance.

Fourth, we can enumerate some reasons why people left the church. Some left because they did not agree with church practices, especially in the culture wars. Others were deeply wounded by practices which affected them and felt like they were pushed out, to become refugees. For many, the disconnect from churches occurred along with the movement from rural areas to cities or cities to suburbs. For young people it occurred during the time in higher education or the pursuit of careers. In such cases, pluralism appears to be a factor since it undercuts claims by individual churches to be the only church. At times one gets the impression that churches simply did not appear to be the place to be. In the years after WWII, this was not the case, but it appears to be the case in the last fifty years. People speak of being busy, having second jobs, or engaged in other things (like sports for kids on Sunday mornings).

It is appropriate to cluster all these factors together because I don’t think there is one central factor and the reasons for leaving churches probably overlap. In more than one way it is unsettling to find that over this period many left churches because of the Christians, i.e., oppressive matters of faith and practice, as well as violations of trust by priests and ministers. Leaving seemed the appropriate thing to do, as in the movie The Graduate, where the young couple flee the church and lock family and friends inside with the cross.

There are some important things we have learned about losses and gains.

>We ought to be cautious regarding judgments regarding the spiritual life of those outside the church.

>While many left churches because churches appeared to be on the wrong side of issues relating to justice and peace, they did not appear to return to churches when the churches engaged in causes for justice and peace, i.e., churches active in such causes did not necessarily avoid losses or grow. This does not mean churches should not join in action for justice and peace, but that such practices should not be simply a strategy for adding members.

>It would be helpful to know more about how people outside the churches nurture their being and seek to be transformed. Here I am not just referring to self-help programs but the way people seek to participate in something which makes a difference or ways to be transformed.

>Much of the language we use to speak of sin and grace needs to be re-considered. For example, the traditional formula of beginning with sin so as to prompt a need for grace may not work because of general confusion about sin and innocence. Or, those who find themselves suffering from oppressive systems do not feel a sense of guilt, but of shame. They may not need forgiveness as much as liberation.

But here’s an alternative: In one discussion on finding an approach to those outside the church, one pastor in Lancaster, Jeff Shanaberger, suggested that we model regular Sunday worship on the great festivals of Christmas and Easter. In thinking about this, several things came to mind. The fact that many people do come to these two services may suggest that they are not as secular as we might think they are. But more important, these two services have the power to attract because they begin with a gracious event which changes things. This is the logic of the gospel and the proper order of Being and Doing. Christmas and Easter celebrate with joy (note: that is crucial) the birth and resurrection of Jesus, the agent of God who brings salvation as well as a sacred presence. They also celebrate the new Being of the community as the beginning of a movement to restore life and light in the world. Need I say it, they begin with grace.

Think for a moment of the powerful words in John 1: the Word becomes flesh; light and life are present so that we have seen His glory. Is it possible that we could envision the worship between Christmas and Easter, as well as Easter and Christmas, not simply as our attempts to interpret the meaning of these two great holidays, but to celebrate the glory of God revealed in our midst? The old piety of gratitude, so mindful of grace extended to sinners, was not wrong and will always be part of the gospel. But in our situation, what if we saw worship as a way of overwhelming and inspiring listeners with the glory of the new being in Christ. In the middle ages, cathedrals did that for people and still do for some. In the Protestant revolt, the proclamation of grace captured the imagination of people weighed down by the judgment of God. To see the glory of God in the community at worship, at the table, in fellowship, and in service may be a way to point to the good news. This might move us to reform the Supper liturgy so that it is not a sacrament of penance, but a glorious celebration of the cosmic salvation in Christ. I can also dream that it might prompt a new lectionary focusing on broad themes regarding the gospel, with clusters of texts which might focus our attention on proclaiming the gospel in the current crisis of the church. And if our preaching followed the sequences in the gospels, where men and women were called to make a decision, it might be just the way to invite listeners today to choose and to decide what one will do with one’s life. A piety of glory would be an amazing turn of events.

Note: For a more detailed discussion of some of these issues, see Tradition in Crisis: The Case for Centric Protestants.