Poor “Doubting Thomas.” The focal point of today’s gospel reading, he’s usually thought of as Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada or Angelina Jolie’s in Maleficent. In other words, no high marks. But not so fast. I’m a little bit in love with him. Here’s why.
In today’s gospel reading, shortly after Jesus has risen, the disciples are huddled together in a room, and Jesus appears. Thomas wasn’t present then, so when he did return, he couldn’t be persuaded to believe such outrageous tales about Jesus’ return to life after such an excruciating public death. “But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe'” (20: 25).
Like Magic
And then, shazam! Later, Jesus returns to the same room with the same crew, but Thomas is present this time. Jesus allows Thomas to touch the gash at his side and trace the scars on his hands. And then there’s that line in the gospel story that, I’ll admit, I hate. “Jesus said to him, ‘Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed'” (20: 29).
So, Thomas is the antagonist here, right? He’s the anti-hero who lacks faith, the epitome of what everyone else should seek to rise above, correct?
Ah . . . no. I object. Why?
First, the details of the story are . . . peculiar. The first time Jesus appears, the writer takes great care to note that the room is locked. And – shocker – Jesus appeared nonetheless! Then, the next time they are gathered with Thomas present this time, the writer makes it clear that the room is locked tight once again.
Really? So, we are supposed to be amazed that Jesus was able to circumvent . . . locks? Let’s think about this. He endures great suffering, betrayal, and death, but then in three days, his friends and disciples experience him as alive again.
Honestly, this is just comical to me. Rising from the dead? Well, sure, that’s cool . . . but check this out! He can get outmaneuver a padlock! And he did it twice!
Seriously?
Second, let’s think about the character of Jesus himself. Do we really believe Jesus would intentionally shame Thomas in front of his friends? I don’t think so.
Sure, sure, I can hear the rebuttal now: “He said that because he was trying to teach a lesson.” I don’t buy it. I’m a teacher myself, and I know that the good ones don’t make examples of the students who don’t get it. The only explanation that makes sense is that the gospel writer put these words in Jesus’ mouth in this story to make a point.
Interestingly, John’s gospel is the only one that contains this story. It was written later than the other synoptic gospels, long after those who knew Jesus in the flesh had died. Therefore, his audience included many people who had never had any direct experience with Jesus. They were doubters themselves. I think the “kudos to those who believe without seeing” speech of Jesus was a rhetorical strategy used by the gospel writer, not a transcript of a literal conversation.
For millennia, we have congratulated ourselves for our superior righteousness in believing something without asking for proof. We put this uncritical assent on a pedestal and make it the measuring stick of worthiness. And we gave it a name – “faith.” I find that just shy of tragic. I must ask – what virtue is there in believing things without evidence? If the principles we live by in other areas of our life can’t be applied to faith, then are they worth going to the mat for?
Being True to Thomas
I believe “Doubting Thomas” has gotten a profoundly bad rap. He asked to see the scars and touch the wounds. But isn’t that what life as a human is? It’s feeling the scars. It’s acknowledging the pain. And it’s recognizing that the timid, purple-ish canopy of shockingly new skin that slowly, slowly replaces the once-angry wound is proof positive that, eventually, life wins. Scars need to be touched. Scars need to be honored. Scars need to be mined for their wisdom.
I’ve been thinking about scars this week. The Cleveland Clinic explains that “scars form as part of the healing process after your skin has been cut or damaged. The skin repairs itself by growing new tissue to pull together the wound and fill in any gaps caused by the injury.”
I’m nursing some wounds myself this week, far too fresh to leave scarring just yet. Six days ago, at this writing, a gunman with an AR-15 entered a bank in my hometown and started shooting. It left six people dead, including the shooter, with others injured.
When the Doubt of Thomas Becomes Ours
I must admit . . . it’s hard to give a cheer for Team Resurrection when such senseless violence has taken sons from mothers, parents from children, and friends from so many just twelve minutes from where I work. I think the best I can do is to feel the pain and treat the wound, knowing that in time, this too, as horrific as it is, will eventually scar over too.
When that happens, I want to place my fingers into the wounds and trace the scars along their jagged, ugly path. I want to grow new tissue, pull together, and fill in the gaps. There are two ways I intend to do that. The first is to contact my elected officials to urge them to support legislation with the potential to make a difference. The second is to fill my little part of the universe with the opposite of violence.
We Can Feel the Scars
I will hug more people and give more compliments. I will keep my mouth shut more often when I know I should. I will forgive quicker and offer to help more. I will give more second chances and throw less shade. I will stop more often to marvel at the beauty of a flower or a sunrise or a piece of art. And I will remember that although none of this will bring sons back to their mothers or parents back to their children, it’s not nothing. It’s something to touch the scars.
I applaud Thomas’ practical side. I’m a fan of his “show me the proof” questions. We must use our own fingers to trace the scars, those on Jesus’ hands and those that snake through the delicate terrain of our own lives. This is how we bear witness to the truth of the Resurrection in a world that doesn’t always make sense. So, there it is. I’m a little bit in love with Doubting Thomas.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In