7 April 2024 John 20:19-31
“Doubting Thomas” has long been the poster child for skeptical rationalism: “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” (John 20:25). He has stood for all those who demand tangible proof that Jesus is who He says He is, something we can see, hear, taste, smell, or touch. Thomas is the Saint of the Scientific Method, proclaiming the religion of rational observation.
No one is troubled very much by this interpretation, which is why it is probably wrong.
There are three big problems with the accepted view of “Doubting Thomas.” For one thing, the other disciples came to believe the same way Thomas did – Jesus showed them His wounds, they saw and believed (20:20). Why is Thomas branded the skeptical rationalist more than they? For another thing, the text fails the test of rationality. The text does not say that Thomas ever did touch the wounds, so he didn’t know if they were real or not. And his conclusion, that therefore Jesus was both “Lord and God”, was unsupported by any data that a rationalist would accept. For a third thing, Jesus didn’t treat Thomas like a skeptic – He showed him His wounds, and did not condemn him. The real skeptics in the New Testament – the ones who kept asking for signs knowing that no sign would ever persuade them – they were never shown anything, and Jesus had pretty sharp words for them all: “A wicked and adulterous generation demands a sign…” (Matthew 12:39).
In short, “Doubting Thomas” is too easy a target, a cardboard cut-out made simply to shoot at. Like every other caricature, it leaves out too much to be authentic.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest,” Jesus says. Maybe Thomas was cut to the heart by the crucifixion, and thought that his desolation and pain were irreparable. Maybe Jesus was his last hope, not his first, and now Jesus was gone. There are people who have been around the block so many times that they have forgotten the way home, whose memories hurt so much that they distrust any good news, who recoil from even the tenderest touch. Through the fog of their suffering even the hand of love can look like another fist.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest,” Jesus says. It takes people who have been hurt very badly more time than it takes for others. Thomas had to wait a whole week longer than the others before he saw what they saw. Others have had to wait months, others years. But Jesus understands being broken. So He doesn’t condemn. He waits. As long as it takes. “Bring you fingers here and touch. See the hand that is broken, like your heart is. This hand understands you. This hand heals you.”
“Come to me, all you who labor and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest,” Jesus says.
Thomas stands for all of us whose pain has blurred our vision, who need a little more time to be sure the hand approaching is not a claw, not a weapon, but medicine. Thomas stands for all in these days who trusted unwisely, who now believe that all trusting is unwise, whose ache on that account is now soul-deep. Jesus understands that, and does not condemn. He waits – a week, a month, longer.
Bring your fingers here and touch His hand. It has scars, like you do, but His scars heal.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
Saint Thomas, pray for us.
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