Embracing Doubting Thomas

Doubting Thomas.  It’s not exactly a term of endearment.  If someone called you a Doubting Thomas I would reckon you’d take offense.  Because a Doubting Thomas is someone who denies the truth unless there is hard, empirical data, staring him or her in the face.  It isn’t a monikor most of us would embrace.

But today I'd like to invite us to rethink what a Doubting Thomas is, to actually embrace this term.  Because I think that Thomas is a pioneer, an example of what faith is all about, and the apostle with whom we are most meant to identify.  Thomas is what a follower of Jesus looks like. 

It's a familiar story, one that only appears in the Fourth Gospel.  Jesus appears to the remaining apostles, who out of fear have locked their doors.  But Thomas, one of the youngest apostles, is not there.  Where could he be?  Perhaps he is out mourning on his own.  Perhaps he is so filled with grief over the loss of his rabbi, his friend, and his Lord, that he cuts himself off from his brothers.  When he is done with his solitude he returns, and his brothers tell him that they have seen the Lord.  But Thomas won't believe it, and why should he?  He's been through hell.  He's experienced extraordinary grief.  Imagine if he let himself believe Jesus was actually alive, only to find out that the other disciples were wrong.  That kind of pain would be unbearable!  So Thomas refuses to believe until he experiences the resurrected Jesus himself. A week later Jesus returns and offers his wounds for Thomas to touch.  But Thomas doesn't touch Jesus' wounds.  He doesn't have to. Instead, filled with awe and wonder and overcome with jubilation and love for Jesus, he exclaims, 'My Lord and my God!'  And he believes.

Thomas is a model of faith.  He refuses to say that he understands or believes something that he does not understand or believe.  He has doubts and is not afraid to admit them.  Who among us here does not have doubts?  I have doubts!  I have so many questions about the nature of God.  If I told you that I have no questions, I'd be lying.  By admitting I have questions I am being honest with myself and with God.  Thomas, simply put, is being honest.  He does not believe something just because someone tells him to believe it.  He dares to doubt and question, and in doing so he finds his faith, finds the Truth (with a capital T).  Alfred Lord Tennyson once wrote, 'There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.'  Doubt and faith do in fact go together.

Historically, though, Thomas has been given a back rap.  We have tended to emphasize Jesus' words, 'Blessed are those who believe and have not seen.'  Those words, after all, are for us--as well as the community of the Fourth Gospel--and all those who have not seen the physically resurrected Jesus.  Still, such a sentiment makes it sound as though Jesus is chastising Thomas for daring to doubt.  Thomas' doubt, therefore, becomes the equivalent of denial, and over time he has joined Judas as an example of how NOT to be true follower of Jesus. Thus, if we ourselves doubt or question, we must somehow not be truly faithful Christians. To say, 'I'm not sure,' becomes the equivalent of saying, 'There is no God!'  Certainly there are Christians who still hold this definition of faith today.  To have faith, some argue, is to never ask questions, but to believe no matter what.  Thomas is wrong, some say, and so are all those who doubt or ask questions.

Well, if Thomas is wrong it's not for doubting.  If he's wrong, it's for leaving.  His mistake is not the refusal to believe, it is the withdrawal from the community.  He chooses loneliness over togetherness, and by doing so he misses Jesus' appearing.  How many times have we done that?  We feel so overwhelmed by grief or sorrow, or shame or fear, that we cut ourselves off.  We say things like"  "I can do it myself!" or "I don't want to bother someone with my problems."  Like a well-bred animal we venture off to deal with our wounds, to suffer in silence, alone.  I suspect that this must have been what Thomas was feeling when he left the other disciples to deal with his own grief, and it is likely how we feel when we retreat from our families, our friends, and our communities to deal with our personal problems on our own.  Yet when Thomas returns to the community of his fellow disciples, then he sees the risen Lord. Jesus surely could've appeared to Thomas when he went off by himself, but that's not how the story goes. It is amongst the community, a community of fearful, yet hopeful individuals that Jesus makes himself known.  To them, to Thomas, and to us.

What this story teaches us, brothers and sisters, is that we are in this together. Thomas' mistake is that he forgets that fact, forgets that Christ calls us to share in joy and sorrow together, so that we may build one another up, so that we may be there to care for and support and encourage one another.  Sure, when sorrow comes and sadness envelops us, we often tend to shut ourselves up and refuse to meet people. But that is the very time when, in spite of sorrow, we most need one another.  For it is in meeting Christ's people that we meet Christ himself.  We are not meant to go through this journey of life alone.  We're in this together.  That is what Thomas forgets.  But it is something we forget too, all of us.  And Thomas' story is a good reminder for us that we don't have to go through our journey alone, that we don't have to be perfect, and that through our questions and our doubts, together, we find our faith.

Have you ever wondered why Thomas is called The Twin? In Greek it’s Didymus.  It isn't because he had a twin sibling, at least not one mentioned in Scripture,  it's because he embodies both faith and doubt, two sides of the same coin.  He’s like the Roman god Janus, the god of beginnings and endings, or the Batman villain Two-Face.  He holds these two seemingly opposing forces within himself.  But they are not opposing forces, they go hand in hand. Thomas forgets and Thomas doubts and Thomas believes.  Thomas is you.  Thomas is me.  Thomas is anyone who dares to wonder and question. And guess what....he's a saint in the Church!  His day--December 21--is a major feast day.  That's right, we give a high holy day to someone whom history has often vilified for his doubts and questions!  

Thomas reminds us that faith is not meant to be blind, rather it is meant to be experienced, to be lived.  We don't believe solely because a book or a person tells us we should.  We believe because we have experienced.  That is faith.  It's a lived experience, a journey full of wonder, questions, and doubt, and it leads to the Truth with a capital T.  When Jesus calls us to make disciples, he calls us to invite others into that journey  And when we go on that journey together, when we see and feel and know that the Truth is in our midst, we, like Thomas, find our faith and exclaim, 'My Lord and my God!'  Brothers and sisters, may we all have the faith of Doubting Thomas. May we all have the doubts of Faithful Thomas.