He’s the thorn in the side; the pain in the neck (or a little lower down); the wet blanket. He’s the party-pooper; the stick-in-the-mud; the doubting Thomas; and that’s bad, right? Well, maybe, just maybe not!
You see, Thomas plays a very important role in this story. He is the one who offers the appropriate objection to the commissioning of the disciples by Jesus. It would be nice to think that Jesus appeared, issued a command and the disciples went on their merry way. But that’s not very human; it’s not very realistic; it’s not very biblical; and it’s probably not even very safe.
“God says it. I believe it. That settles it.” was a popular bumper sticker among evangelical Christians when I was a teenager. It all seemed so simple. The question of discernment never even entered the equation. The will of God was expected to be so unequivocally recognisable that there would never ever be any doubt. That’s not very human; not very realistic; it’s not very biblical; and it’s probably not even very safe.
Our parents didn’t accept the excuse for poor behaviour that somebody told us to do it. The legendary retort, “If they said to jump off a bridge, would you do that?” or something similar fills many childhood memories. We are taught very early that we don’t just need to hear and obey, we also need to think and discern before we take action.
Calls to action, calls to mission, calls to vocation need testing. They need analysis. And Thomas is the one who offers the test, the means of analysis, in the Gospel reading for today. “Okay, you say Jesus appeared, and you say he said to forgive sins. If he said to stand in the pathway of a runaway Roman chariot would you also do that?”
Thomas is the one who raises the possibility that the call is not how things should be; that the role being discussed does not belong to those of whom it is being requested; that those called are inadequate to the task; and Thomas is in good company in this respect. In the tradition of Sarah who said she was too old to bear children, or Moses who said he could not speak, or Jeremiah who said he was too young to prophesy, Thomas offers the best objection yet: I do not believe. I do not believe. And you’ve got to admit that’s a good one: I do not believe.
According to John Pilch, the author of The Cultural World of Jesus, in every good call story, there is a confrontation, a reaction, a reassurance, a commission, an objection, a further reassurance and a sign—a confrontation, a reaction, a reassurance, a commission, an objection, a further reassurance and a sign. Thomas is the one who offers the objection, who receives the further reassurance and the sign. Thomas is the one who stands for all Christ’s disciples down through the ages who dare to doubt, who dare to wonder, who dare to question whether this initial word is really God’s leading. And he’s got what seems like a good excuse, “I don’t believe!”
I hear it all the time. Why do we say the Apostle’s Creed?—I can’t believe in that! It doesn’t matter what Christians thought in the past—we can’t believe in that now! The Church has been the source of much abuse, dishonesty, corruption and other nefarious activities—how can I believe in that? I’m pretty sure I’ve said something or other like that myself at least a few times in my life. Christianity is so patriarchal—how can you believe in that?—just, for example.
But it’s not just intellectual dissension that dares not to believe; it’s the spiritual wildernesses that each of us experience at some point in our journey. Where is God? How can God exist if…? God sometimes just seems so far away. Where is justice? Where is freedom? Where is hope? Where is peace? If God is so good and so loving, why is everything going wrong? Why do I feel so empty?
And then there is the social despair that dares not to believe. When it looks like there are just a few of us who care; a few of us who love; a few of us who want to orient our lives towards God; a few of us who are willing to act, why bother at all? What right have we to believe? How can we possibly believe?
‘Unless we see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put our fingers in the marks of the nails and ours hands in his side, we will not believe.’ We object. We are not the people you think us to be.
Thomas dares to offer the objection so significant to the discernment process. And because he dares to doubt, he receives the second reassurance in the call narrative. He receives the sign.
‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’
The story does not say that Thomas did so. But this is not simply an invitation to touch a real body, and not just a real body, but a real wounded body, it is an invitation to enter into the real wounds of the risen Christ. The sign that Thomas receives is not the bouncing baby Isaac born by Sarah, or the Exodus of the people of God led by Moses, or the prophetic ministry of Jeremiah; it is the woundedness of the compassionate God who enters into the very life of humanity in all its frailty, and brokenness, its fragility and its need for healing. It is not a light invitation and not an invitation to be taken lightly.
And Thomas answers, “My Lord and my God!” In the face of such a momentous invitation, awe, admiration and evocation are the only response. And in this moment, although it does not say that he touches Jesus in the text, we are assured that he has entered the woundedness of the risen Christ and, despite his doubts, because of his daring objection, he has received the sign that he needs to believe.
Thomas is the one who receives the appropriate reassurance, the necessary sign, the confirmation of the commissioning. He is the one who is the confirmation of the commissioning and who is the one who is commissioned. Thomas is both a sign and a promise to us that despite our doubts, despite our daring objections, we too may believe, we too may accept the invitation to enter the woundedness of the risen Christ, we too may believe despite our unbelief; that belief is not a matter of seeing, but of entering into the life of the risen Christ.
And this then becomes the call on our lives.
29Jesus said to Thomas, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’
We are called to enter the risen life of Christ: the suffering-triumph death-glory of God: to reach out our hands for bread and wine; to stretch out our hands to a neighbour or an enemy; to feed the hungry and hold the hurting; to place a finger on the lists of the dead in war; to stroke the cheek of a child in a detention centre; to offer a hand to a refugee; to feel the gaping wounds of the world; to dare to doubt; to dare to believe; and to dare to act in the audacity of that belief; to dare to touch the risen Christ; dare to doubt; and dare to pray with Thomas and all Christ’s faithful followers, “Help our unbelief.”
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