On the evening of the first Easter Sunday, the risen Jesus surprises his disciples by appearing among them and blessing them. But one member of the band is gone that night and refuses to believe until he can personally see and touch the scars of the risen Jesus. But…why does the resurrected Jesus have scars at all? And what is their significance for our faith today?
Today’s Scripture reading is John 20:19-31. The direction for this sermon was inspired by this editorial from Peter Wehner in the New York Times. Here’s my sermon for the second Sunday of Easter, April 11, 2021.
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed.
Today’s Gospel story takes place on that first Easter Sunday, perhaps 12 or 15 hours after the women first discovered the empty tomb. Nearly all of Jesus’ disciples are gathered together, hiding in a locked room, afraid of being arrested themselves, when Jesus comes and stands among them.
But Thomas wasn’t there, and, well, you know the story. Thomas wants more proof. He wants to see the wounds on Jesus’ body. I appreciate Thomas’ desire for proof before he’ll believe, and I love how Jesus is ok with that, and gives him what he needs. Some of you have heard me preach about that.
But today, I want to consider with you a different question: Why does Jesus still have scars? Have you ever wondered?
John is intentional about what he includes in his telling of the Jesus-story—these things are written so that you may come to believe Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and through believing you may have life in his name—so Jesus’ scars must be significant, but why do they matter?
First, it seems pretty clear Jesus’ scars confirm his identity, for all the disciples, but especially for Thomas. This isn’t some imposter, some long-lost twin brother of Jesus showing up to claim his place (Not that anyone would want to claim the place of someone arrested and crucified by the Roman Empire, but still!). This is not an imposter.
Just as important, the scars prove it really was Jesus on the cross. I don’t think there’s really any chance the Romans and the temple guards arrested the wrong person after Judas identified Jesus for them, or somehow someone switched places with Jesus before he got to the cross, but when someone who you watched die shows up and starts talking with you, I imagine you want to account for every possible explanation!
The scars prove it was definitely Jesus up there on that cross. It was Jesus whose side was pierced and blood and water came out, which was a result of the fluid build-up around his heart and lungs from the suffocation of crucifixion, medical evidence Jesus was dead, not that John or Thomas necessarily knew the science behind it. (source) But this guy standing in the locked room is definitely the same guy who died up there on the cross.
Second, not long after Jesus’ death and resurrection, as the early Christians were trying to interpret and explain the significance, one group came up with a theory that since Jesus was God, he couldn’t actually suffer and die.
It’s a heresy called Docetism, which comes from a Greek word meaning “to seem.” Jesus must have only seemed to die, they thought, because they just couldn’t imagine God suffering and dying. Jesus wasn’t really a flesh and blood human being like you and me; instead, they decided, he must have been more of a spiritual being, sort of a phantom in disguise just pretending to be a human, and therefore, just pretending to die.
The rest of the church rejected this idea, partially because of this Biblical evidence of Jesus’ scars. A phantom Jesus wouldn’t have been wounded, wouldn’t be carrying these scars.
This is why, by the way, in the Nicene Creed, the longer creed we say sometimes, there’s a line: “For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried.” That line specifying he “suffered death” is rejecting this idea that Jesus didn’t really die.
He did suffer. He did die. And he has the scars to prove it.
Of course, for most people, believing a man named Jesus died on a cross around 30 AD is not the hard part. The hard part is believing he came back to life. Easter Sunday is the part requiring faith; Good Friday’s easy to imagine, at least the physical part. So if Jesus is resurrected, shouldn’t he be all healed?
I mean, his resurrected body seems to have some new rules. Apparently going through locked doors isn’t a problem for Jesus now. Six weeks later, he’ll ascend to heaven, rising up through the clouds. Even before his crucifixion and death, Jesus did miracles like walking on water, and oh yeah, he healed people. Shouldn’t he have healed his scars?
I’ve been reading a science fiction series called Old Man’s War and without going into the plot, a main idea is that humanity has developed the ability to transfer consciousness to new bodies, so everyone in the military has upgraded genetically and bionically modified bodies with self-healing properties and skin-repairing nano-bots. It’s kind of a ridiculous series, but their new bodies are basically perfect, and the author assumes perfection doesn’t include scars. Why would Jesus’ body have defects?
Jesus’ scars are not a new issue, by the way. 800 years ago, Thomas Aquinas argued that Jesus’ scars are not an imperfection, but a trophy he won by defeating death.
St. Augustine said they were there to taunt his enemies, to say “Look what you tried to do and how you failed.” (source) Charles Spurgeon suggested Jesus’ scars are ornaments to impress the angels in heaven, and more importantly, reminders to us that he died for us. (source)
I imagine that’s why the statue in the front of our sanctuary and the one above the coat-racks and our stain-glass Ascension window and most images of the risen Jesus include the wounds, so we’ll remember what Jesus has done for us.
Or, perhaps the reason Jesus has scars is because we have scars. Hebrews 2 says God, in Jesus Christ, “became like us in every respect…because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested.”
Our scars are obviously not from crucifixion, but the experiences we go through leave marks. Physical trauma leaves marks, but so do emotional and spiritual experiences.
Broken relationships leave marks. Unfollowed dreams leave marks. Losses of friends and family, betrayal, falls and failures, the times when you’ve been burned literally or metaphorically, it leaves scars. Father Gregory Boyle, a priest who works in gang intervention, titled his memoir Tattoos on the Heart. No one gets through life unscathed.
Our bodies are not flawless. Our hearts are not pure. And yet, Jesus chooses to become one of us. Jesus chose to be born as a human being, into a body with the capacity to acquire scars.
He chose to experience the same reality we live in, to be wounded by the same kinds of things we are wounded by.
Perhaps that’s what Thomas needs to know to believe. In order to trust, in order to follow, he needed a wounded savior. We need a wounded savior.
Dr. Raj Nadella suggests Thomas “wants assurance that Jesus wasn’t just an eloquent teacher and a charismatic leader, but actually had his skin in the game, nails in his flesh and a spear in his side.” (source) And when Jesus invites Thomas to see his wounds, that’s when Thomas makes his declaration of faith. “My Lord and my God.” It doesn’t say whether he actually puts his fingers in the wounds, but the wounds convince him of who Jesus is.
Scars show the character of God, this God who has taken on human flesh. They reveal the depth of Jesus’ love. In order to show us with our scars that we are beloved, God has received scars.
You have a God who knows everything you’ve gone through, and loves you anyway, a savior who has gone through death for you, and come out the other side carrying the evidence. Blessed are you who have not seen, and yet have come to believe.
I want to share with you a song. This is Scars by the band I Am They and I invite you to listen and consider what it means to have scars.
Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, you became human for our sake. You were tested in every way, and you experienced suffering. Thank you for being present with us in our own suffering, for revealing your heart to us, for not letting the worst this world can offer get in the way of your love for us. Help us to trust you, even when it’s hard to see.
Amen