The Incredulity of St. Thomas
From a Sermon given at All Angels’ Episcopal Church – April 2014
Chris Webb tells the story this way.
The filthy Roman backstreet was wrapped in darkness. Foul smelling water trickled between the stones underfoot, and a single guttering candle burned in a window high above. A drunken young man, his clothes tattered, stumbled into a doorway and threw up violently. Across the street two prostitutes, their faces garishly painted, cackled with delight as they watched him slide down the doorframe and fall into the pool of his own vomit...
...Then he pulled himself to his feet again and weaved his way toward another doorway at the end of the street. He hit the door hard with his shoulder and it crashed back on its hinges, toppling him into the inky blackness of the hallway beyond. Cursing and groaning, he clattered noisily up the wooden staircase; a voice from a neighboring house yelled at him to keep quiet. Pushing open another door, he tumbled his way into a large attic studio and collapsed into a chair in the middle of the open floor. The candle, now burning low, sat in the open window behind him. As the light shone over his shoulder, he contemplated the canvas mounted on the easel before him. There were four figures gathered in a tight huddle in the center of the painting, surrounded by a thick and impenetrable gloom. Their faces were illuminated by some bright light, but everything else lay in darkness. For perhaps half an hour the young man pondered before the canvas, unmoving, his eyes half shut; a casual observer might have thought him asleep. Then, with a start, he leaped up and frantically began mixing paints onto a cracked wooden palette— thick, oily purples and browns, grays and greens. Stabbing a brush into the mixture, he began edging color into the shadows around the leftmost figure. He painted for hours, energetically, even frenetically. As dawn began to color the city in a soft crimson light, the painter, now somewhat more sober but utterly exhausted, fell back into the chair and examined his work thoughtfully. He closed his bloodshot eyes and nodded. It was finished. On the canvas, three disciples stood in a tight group around the newly resurrected Jesus. Matthew and John looked on in wonder as an incredulous Thomas pushed his finger into Christ’s wounded side. Jesus, his eyes etched with compassion, held Thomas’s wrist, keeping the hand steady. The scene was shocking and extraordinarily tender all at once. Without doubt a masterpiece. In his chair, Caravaggio slept. (Chris Webb, The Fire of the Word, Downers Grove IL, InterVarsity Press, 2011, 23-24)
Caravaggio, the drunken outsider, is an unexpected interpreter for the scene we consider this week. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe we need to be woken up to the tensions of doubt, investigation, and disbelief. Maybe we need someone to probe us out of a sleepy faith that nods too easily at the incredible, smiles too shallowly at the resurrection, and suppresses too sweetly the darkness of doubt.
I love the story of St. Thomas in John 20:24-29. It’s the story captured by Caravaggio in his famous painting. This story shows us three things that are vital to a healthy Christian community:
The reality of doubt in inside the community of the faithful.
The reward of doubt for doubters and non-doubters alike.
The opportunity for revelation in spite of doubt.
Reality of Doubt
“How do I know it’s not all made up in my head?” Frankie said to me after I’d preached at a conference recently. Frankie grew up in church. He was graduating and headed to medical school. The worldview gap between the naturalism in his academics and the supernaturalism of his church community was pushing him toward a personal crisis.
If you were sitting with Frankie, what would you say? How would you help him?
The truth is that women and men like Frankie are a part of every faith community. You may know some. You may be someone with big doubts about faith. You may be holding on to faith because you value your place in the community, or you appreciate the experience of worship. Perhaps you participate in worship because of a parent or a child, but even as you participate you wrestle to make sense of your own belief and unbelief.
Thomas’ incredulity inspires in part because his story is so relatable. Thomas, one of the 12, is as close to the Jesus community as he could get, and yet he still doubts. ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’
In the verses just before this section Jesus appeared to the disciples. At that time Jesus gave the disciples (except Thomas) an incredible trust, the ability to determine the boundaries of their community. It says that Jesus breathed on them saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit, if you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:23)
In light of this authority to determine community boundaries, notice how the other disciples respond to Thomas’ refusal to believe. They don’t say, “Clearly you don’t have enough faith to be a part of our community. You don’t measure up. You have sinned against God. So now we’re done with you.”
Here’s a question worth considering, when was the church free of doubtful and half-believing people? The answer is... never. Thomas is one of the 12. He was so committed to Jesus that when Jesus said he was going to Jerusalem, aware that it could mean his betrayal and death, Thomas was the disciple who suggested that they go die with him. Can you get any more committed?
Thomas was committed AND doubtful.
The reality of doubt in the community of faith is important to acknowledge. If you have significant doubts about the gospel of Jesus, a healthy Christian community says, “We are delighted that you’re here. Our hope is that you feel safe within this community to name your doubts, to explore the claims of Jesus, to wrestle honestly.”
The incredulity of St. Thomas shows us not only that doubt is present in the community of faith, but also that doubt is necessary for robust faith.
Reward of Doubt
How do you wrestle honestly with doubt? Healthy doubt begins with an unsolved puzzle, but it doesn’t stop there. Thomas had an unsolved puzzle, how could a crucified messiah be alive? How could a crucified messiah be messiah at all? What makes Thomas’ doubt healthy is that it looks for the pieces of the puzzle to be solved. Thomas says, “Unless...” That’s a powerful word. Unless clarifies the criteria that would resolve the puzzle or enable him to see through the paradox.
I suspect that every story of faith has an ‘unless’ in there somewhere. Unless causes our doubts to become specific and focused. It was realistic of Thomas to ask for the same kind of experience with the risen Christ that the other disciples had. Let’s not forget, the other 10 disciples didn’t believe when Mary told them that she had seen the risen Christ. They didn’t believe unless... he came to them, which he did.
I don’t see Melanie that often, but when I do she always asks if I remember her. Then, whether I acknowledge remembering her or not, she shares her story with me. One day in a dark period of her life she wrote in her journal that life wasn’t worth living. She had determined to act on this conclusion when her friend called to invite her to an event at her church. Melanie agreed to go with her friend that evening, then went back to her journal and wrote 7 questions that she needed answered that night or she would follow through with her plan to end her life.
I happened to be speaking that evening at the event her friend took her to. Melanie always tears up when she says, “I went home that night and I had answers to every one of my 7 questions. That was the night God saved my life. That was the night I became a follower of Jesus.”
“Unless I see the mark of the nail...Unless I have an answer...” These are real questions. There is an, ‘unless’ that lurks in the background of our religious activity. There is an, ‘unless’ in the lives of our doubting friends that we as worshipping and witnessing communities need to hear so that that it may inform our prayer and proclamation. What would happen this week if every person in our community asked a doubting friend or family member, “What’s important to you in the spiritual life and where do you struggle to believe?” and then, to just listen... unless...
The reward of doubt is what happens when God meets us in the, ‘unless’.
Jesus came to Thomas and allowed Thomas to probe his wounded side. There is no hint of disappointment. Having stretched his own flesh between heaven and earth to accomplish the reconciling purposes of God, Jesus is not about to withhold himself from Thomas. Thomas and Jesus come face to face. “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory...” (John 1:14)
Now I know at this point the skeptic says, “Well, that’s fine for Thomas... but why doesn’t Jesus appear to everyone who wants to believe? This story must be a legend. It can’t possibly be true, or else this test should be available for everyone... right?”
There are 3 reasons why Jesus doesn’t just appear physically to everyone who asks. First, this narrative occurs during a short season in the life of the early church when Jesus did appear physically. This time ended with what we call the ascension, which is a key move in the life and mission of the church. Ask me more about that later. Second, as much as we hate to admit it, physical manifestations of the presence of God do not ensure faith. Remember the Exodus? God appeared to the people in a cloud and fire. The presence of God literally hovered over their heads... and the people still doubt. In John’s gospel Jesus produces seven distinct ‘signs’ of his identity, and people still fail to believe. Third, this story isn’t fundamentally a method for investigating Jesus, but rather the testimony of one who did. John opens his gospel with the testimony, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.” (John 1:14)
What is your, ‘unless’? What is the, ‘unless’ of your colleagues, family, or friends? Far from a hindrance to faith, healthy doubt presses us into a vital, even liminal space where we can come face to face with Jesus. If and when we do, we discover not simply evidence that requires a verdict, but revelation that requires a response.
Revelation in Spite of Doubt
Thomas stands out in John’s gospel as the primary example of faithful discipleship. After having articulated his doubts Thomas sees Jesus and declares, “My Lord and my God.” There is a cryptic statement Jesus makes in response to Thomas, “Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’” (John 20:29)
John is picking up (and in this exchange resolving) a theme that has run throughout the whole gospel. ‘Seeing’ and ‘not seeing’ are ubiquitous in John. The theme offers an invitation to those of us who read. Do you see the signs? Do you see the one who has come? Do you see who this Jesus really is? Do you?
In beauty and brevity that only John can pull off Thomas is the last of the 12 disciples to ‘see the resurrected Jesus’, and also the first to truly ‘see’ him. Thomas declares Jesus’ identity as a summarization of what he had come to know and to believe.
Fifth century poet Romanus Melodus wrote:
Who protected the hand of the disciple which was not melted
At the time when he approached the fiery side of the Lord?
Who gave it daring and strength to probe
The flaming bone? Certainly the side was examined. If the side had not furnished abundant power,
How could a right hand of clay have Touched
Sufferings which had shaken Heaven and Earth?
It was grace itself which was given to Thomas
To touch and cry out “Thou art Lord and God.”
Truly the bramble which endured fire was burned but not consumed.
From the hand of Thomas I have faith in the Story of Moses.
For, though his hand was perishable and Thorny, it was not burned
When it touched the side which was like
Burning flame.
Formerly fire came to the bramble bush,
But now, the thorny one hastened to the Fire;
And God, Himself, was seen to guard both. Hence I have faith; and hence I shall praise God, Himself, and man as I cry,
“Thou art our Lord and God.”
For truly the boundary line of faith was Subscribed for me
By the hand of Thomas; for when he
Touched Christ
He became like the pen of a fast-writing
Scribe
Which writes for the faithful. From it
Gushes forth faith.
From it, the robber drank and became sober again; From it the disciples watered their hearts;
From it, Thomas drained the knowledge
Which he sought,
For he drank first and then offered drink
To many who had a little doubt. He Persuaded them to say,
“Thou, art our Lord and God.”
And so we like Caravaggio... like Thomas... probe the mystery, the beauty, the wonder of Jesus, messiah of Israel, raised from the dead, Lord of the world. Can we take a moment to enter into this liminal space? Can we confess with Romanus, “Thou, art Lord and God.”?