The week after Easter can often feel like something of an anti-climax.
So much happens during Holy Week, from Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, through the Last Supper with his disciples, the pain and suffering of the Crucifixion on Good Friday, and the glory and joy of the Resurrection on Easter Day, that the days which follow can sometimes seem very quiet and unemotional.
This year of course, this week has been filled with an excitement of a different kind – many of us will have found ourselves caught up in some aspect of the Royal Wedding, whether joyfully or reluctantly.
For me, it was a delight to see a wedding service, which offered beauty, spectacle and joy, but at the same time spoke out openly and directly of the love of Christ, and the spiritual outworking of love within a partnership in which God played an important part.
It was also wonderful to hear the prayer which the couple themselves had written, and a wedding, as the Bishop of London said in his sermon, is always a good reminder of the presence of joy and hope and love.
But it was quite striking to notice that only a few hours after the excitement and the pageantry, television and internet commentators were starting to question what we had witnessed, and to ask whether this was truly the whole story.
In one sense, of course, they were right that a public spectacle arranged for television can never be the full story of a human relationship, and as the Bishop also said, after the fanfares and the national celebrations, William and Kate will face the need to support one another, with God’s help, through the joys and struggles of married life, just like anyone else.
But perhaps it is a normal human reaction to express doubt in response to a great event filled with excitement and joy, if we have not truly shared in it directly ourselves.
Indeed, people seem to be more likely to express doubt and cynicism in the face of unalloyed joy and celebration than when they hear tales of tragedy and suffering.
Hearing the story of Doubting Thomas today reminds us that the beauty and excitement of Easter Day in its blaze of gold and white, surrounded by banks of lilies and wonderful rousing hymns, can sometimes leave people afterwards with questions about whether the emotions we have been caught up in really are the whole, or the true story.
It is possible that some who were present in our congregation last Sunday went home and wondered secretly if Christ’s resurrection did all really happen, just as the Bible describes…
Passages such as that from the Epistle of Peter this morning, which exhort us: “Even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy”, may seem in the cold light of day to require a level of faith and excitement which we can sometimes find it difficult to muster.
But the story of Thomas, who doubted, has surely been retained in the Gospel, and placed in the Lectionary each year on this, the first Sunday after Easter, precisely to address the doubts and concerns which may arise for some of us in the aftermath of the Easter celebrations.
Thomas is a pragmatic and for many of us, a very recognisable figure.
He witnesses the excitement and emotion of the disciples who have seen the risen Christ, but cannot bring himself to be caught up in it until he has seen the literal proof for himself.
But it is striking that he does not simply want to see the risen Christ in glory, but that he wants to feel the nailmarks, and to witness for himself the truth of the pain and the suffering as well as the glory and the joy.
He cannot simply buy into a reported, two-dimensional happiness, either.
Of course, unlike Thomas, we do not have the opportunity to put our fingers into the nailmarks in Christ’s hands and feet, and to see the wound in his side to allay our own doubts and fears.
But perhaps we may recognise from Thomas’ reaction that it is in contemplating Christ’s suffering as well as his glory that we are more likely to be able to share in his heartfelt declaration of faith, “My Lord and my God!”
It is often true that people are more likely to express doubt in the face of apparent unalloyed joy than when they hear of something terrible or tragic.
By contrast, many of us when we are suffering pain, grief, bereavement or fear, will pray or cry out to God almost in spite of ourselves, and hope against hope that he will answer our prayers, or offer us comfort and strength when we most need it.
But what is it that can give us the conviction, or even the hope that he will be able to sustain us in these times of need?
It is the knowledge that Christ himself has suffered violence, indignity, pain, betrayal, sorrow and death and overcome them.
Through his Incarnation, our God has been shown to be a suffering God, one who can truly walk beside us in our pain and distress; one whom we can be confident in calling on in difficult times, because he has been there before us.
Our natural human instincts may well make it easier for us to profess our faith in a God who is with us in our suffering as well as our joy.
And yet, despite not being present with Thomas in the upper room, we can also still experience the Body of Christ in the joy and warmth of our Christian community.
In a few moments, Fr Stephen will introduce the Peace, and the words of this Eastertide introduction, taken almost word for word from this morning’s reading, offer what is perhaps one of my very favourite parts of the Common Worship liturgy.
“The risen Christ came and stood among his disciples, and said, ‘Peace be with you!’ Then were they glad when they saw the Lord.”
The word glad has perhaps lost some of its force and meaning in English over recent years, and so this phrase in some ways seems to be a masterful expression of British understatement(!) “Glad”, these days, seems hardly to encompass the overwhelming feelings of joy and amazement which the disciples must have felt when their crucified and risen Lord miraculously appeared amongst them.
But we are offered the chance here in sharing the Peace, to share in some small way in the experience of Thomas and the other disciples in the upper room, as we see Christ reflected in those around us, and feel ourselves enveloped in his peace.
On Low Sunday, with the dazzling celebrations of Easter Day behind us, we can recall in peace together that our God was with us both in his agony on the Cross, and in the glory of his Resurrection.
We can commemorate Christ’s very real suffering in the Eucharist, reminding ourselves that He made the ultimate sacrifice for us, and then as a result of that was able to bring about the triumphant joy and celebration of Easter Day with everything which it promises us for eternity.
We can know through all this, that Christ is truly with us in our joy and in our pain, as well as being present in the warmth and love of the congregation gathered in his name.