Clearly, today is not Easter Sunday! On the church calendar, it is the Second Sunday of Easter, and, in fact, we will be celebrating Easter for five more Sundays after today. Easter calls for a whole season, not just a day. But, of course, Easter Sunday is regarded as the "big" one-the one that brings out the crowds. And, I truly believe that many in the Easter crowd know why they've come. They're hungry for a faith to give meaning to their lives in an often confusing and threatening world. For all our society's focus on living the good life, many find that good elusive. So, they're here on Easter, the supreme celebration of faith in the Christian tradition. Like the disciple Thomas, they want to find something that will anchor their lives in a transcendent meaning and purpose. But why aren't more here with us today to continue their quest? For many, I think, the answer is that they do not believe that being with others in their search contributes anything important. So many people today seem to regard spiritual searching as a personal, individual matter. They are rugged individualists of the spirit intent on blazing their own path; and as such, they will determine the venues and experiences which they think will contribute something to their quests. And, for most, being in church the Sunday after Easter is not one of them.

I wonder if the disciple Thomas may not have had a similar mindset toward faith. For his own reasons, he was not present on that evening of Easter Day when Jesus first appeared to his disciples after his resurrection. What an amazing experience it must have been for them-huddled behind locked doors in fear and despair-to have Jesus suddenly appear in their midst and so confirm that the resurrection had really happened. But when they told Thomas what they had experienced, his response was, "You can't make me believe that. It wasn't my experience. Unless I see the nail prints and feel the wounds for myself, I will not believe." A week later, on Sunday, Thomas was present with the others. At least he'd had the grace not to abandon them, no matter how far-fetched he thought their resurrection faith was. And in that setting, again behind closed doors, Jesus again appears and shows Thomas his wound marks. Thomas can only answer, "My Lord and my God!" Now Thomas believes, because the shared faith experience of the other disciples has become his own.

One thing that comes through loud and clear in this passage is that the faith that launched the Christian church was a communal faith. With the sole exception of Mary Magdalene at the tomb, the risen Christ did not appear to single individuals but to groups, and I believe that's not happenstance. Surely, this points to the fact that people together-people in community-are the primary channels through whom vital faith comes. If it had been left to isolated individuals like Thomas to come to faith and then translate that faith into an ongoing movement, Christianity never would have happened. The Thomases never would have found an energized core of faith to inspire a movement! So, Thomas on his own does not see or believe, but Thomas as part of the community of disciples does, because together they are given the gift of seeing and believing in the risen Christ. So, when Jesus says, at the close of the passage, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe," he's also implying something important about how belief comes. The place to find belief, the place to see, even when it appears to be "through a glass darkly," is in community with other seekers. The faith of the Bible is a we faith. By contrast, faith that tries to find its way alone is likely to be a wee faith.

One reason I believe so strongly in the church is because, again and again, I have experienced it as a crucible in which my own faith and the faith of others has been nourished and deepened. That's one reason I find leading small groups in the church so rewarding. There is a dynamic to life in community that not only gives us eyes for seeing, but also energizes and undergirds us in our faith understanding. In Bible study groups and adult classes, and even in committee meetings and social groups, people find deeper insight into what it means to live by faith and greater inspiration to do it. It's not only that we learn from others, but it's also how others respond to what we have to share; it's how they care about us and our often seemingly miniscule pearls of faith in a way that brings out their luster. Frequently, I have felt that the pearls I had to share in a group were pretty inconsequential; yet, when mine were shared alongside others, I have come away with a new sense of inner conviction and meaning. There is a dynamic to relationships of mutual searching and caring in the church that transcends our ability to analyze it. And let's abolish the myth that such opportunities are only for those who have gone beyond the beginner's level of spiritual development. The church is meant to be a lab for growing and inspiring faith at all levels. We are here to help and encourage one another, whatever the measure of faith each of us has attained now. The only criterion for becoming a part of this process is a personal willingness to get involved as a seeker.

A Catholic missionary by the name of Fr. Donovan was once sent to work among the Masai tribes in Tanzania, who have a very strong sense of community. Upon completing his initial evangelizing sessions, Fr. Donovan announced that only some of the group were fit candidates for baptism. "This old man has missed too many sessions," he said, "and that man has obviously not understood my teaching. And that woman there has scarcely believed any of it." Then a tribal elder spoke up politely but firmly, "Padre, why would you break us up and separate us? Yes, there are ones with little faith here, but they have been helped by those with much faith. Would you turn out and drive off the lazy ones and the ones with little faith and the stupid ones? I say, Father, we have reached the step where we can say, 'We believe,' and we all come for baptism." And Fr. Donovan had the grace and sense to baptize them all-for they were all part of the church as it is meant to be: a place where everyone's faith is nourished in community.

The sacrament of Holy Communion, which we are about to observe, is a celebration of communal faith. Jesus instituted it in a fellowship meal of his disciples, who then together came to believe in his resurrection and made this a sacrament of the church, Christ's ongoing body. And so the church celebrates Communion together, remembering Christ's saving work on behalf of all of us, and finding strength here for our common ministry. Obviously, we as individuals also find nourishment here for our lives outside the church, but even then, we remain members of Christ's body, dispersed for service in the world. So, Communion is a sacrament of "we" faith-a means by which our faith grows in the company of other believers, and by which together we are nurtured for ministry.

Given the rampant individualistic mindset of our time, it is all too easy to lose sight of this basic communal premise of our faith. We can so easily view ourselves as individual religious consumers rather than as those called into Christ's body, both to grow in faith and to live it out with others. But, by God's grace, we are so called. As the writer of I Peter put it, "By [God's] great mercy [God] has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead." That same kind of we faith can turn us, too, toward resurrected living as sharers of Christ's redemptive work in our world.