Pics or it Didn’t Happen
John 20:19-31
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘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.’
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘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.’
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ 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.’
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
I certainly won’t be the first pastor, especially not the first UCC pastor, to cut Thomas some slack. Thomas has long been a entirely relatable Biblical figure for all of us, especially for the times when we inevitably experience bouts of cynicism, skepticism, or doubt. And while Jesus gives him sort of a light, passive-aggressive scolding at the end of the passage, he ultimately shows his understanding of and his love for Thomas by acquiescing and offering to show him proof by way of his crucifixion scars. But in re-reading the scripture this time around, there was one line that really stuck out to me, and it made me think about this passage in a totally different way: “But Thomas…one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came.” So presumably, Thomas was out… who knows? Running some errands? Visiting a friend? Checking in on an ailing loved one? And he comes back to find out he missed out on the most earth shattering, momentous event anyone could imagine. All I can think about is how left out, how upset Thomas must have felt! Maybe he was so upset he was sure his friends were pulling some cruel prank. Maybe he was just so mad he missed it that he refused to believe it had actually happened.
I’m thinking of the scenario and honestly, kind of laughing about it—Tom comes back from his errand, or whatever, walks into a room of his friends just awe struck, maybe some are crying tears of joy, maybe some are praying, maybe some are embracing—and Thomas just being like, “uhhh… what’d I miss?” His friends jump up “We have seen the Lord!” And so I wonder if Thomas’ reaction is less one of a contrarian skeptic, and more one of someone who’s so upset he missed out on the experience of a lifetime, he has kind of kneejerk reaction, out of some anger, some jealousy that he missed out. Instead of being able to celebrate with his friends, he’s so upset he missed seeing his risen savior, that he stubbornly insists, ‘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.’ Sort of an ancient Biblical version of the modern-day internet saying, “Pics or it didn’t happen.”
Regardless of his reasons for not being there, or his reasons for not believing his friends’ recounting of Jesus’ visit, I really feel for Thomas. He spent an entire week, presumably listening to his friends gush about seeing the wounded and risen Christ. Just sulking around grumbling for a whole week, thinking about the fact that he had to pick just that moment to go run that errand, or whatever he was doing at the time. Just imagine an entire week wondering if he’d ever see Jesus again, wondering if he’d ever be able to join in on the utter ecstasy and jubilation with his friends, of if he was just always destined to be that one disciple who didn’t get to see Jesus—who didn’t get to say goodbye, who didn’t get to have one last conversation with him. I imagine that week was just pure agony for Thomas.
It’s interesting when you look at all the paintings and frescos of “Doubting Thomas.” Almost all of them show an awestruck Thomas pretty graphically poking his finger into a wound in Jesus’ body, just as he states he must do to believe that Jesus is really risen and present—and let me tell you, some of those images are kind of gross! But the passage we just heard doesn’t say anything about Thomas actually following through with his demand of touching the wound. Jesus invites him to, yes, but let’s go over this part again—“…he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ 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.’” Thomas is so overcome that he just exclaims “My Lord and my God!” And to this, Jesus only mentions Thomas seeing and believing. See Church, in reading this passage this time around, I became convinced that Thomas knew all along that Jesus had risen. He didn’t need to actually stick his finger in the wounds in Jesus’ body as he claimed he would have to, and as all the paintings, frescos, representations of this event seem to have assumed.
Church, I think Thomas knew. I think Thomas believed. He was just too upset to admit it. He was just too upset to face the reality that after witnessing the tragic and traumatic death of his savior, that he might have missed something as momentous as Jesus’ return. I think he let his frustration and grief get the better of him and built some walls up to make himself feel a little better, to convince himself that his friends must all be mistaken, and there was no way he missed out seeing his savior again.
I think in some ways, Thomas would fit in quite well in today’s world. In fact, I’m sorry to say, I think in some ways Thomas would even be a little dangerous for today’s world. At least in Thomas’ day, he could quietly fume until Jesus came to him—but I wonder what Thomas would have done with the internet at his disposal. I wonder if he would have attempted to find a way to prove his skepticism by finding some biased, un-fact-checked website to show the world that he’s actually right, that he didn’t miss out on anything. Or I wonder if he couldn’t find something that actually did cater to his cynical, stubborn view, if he would have gone so far as to write his own diatribe, gone so far as to troll the internet to make his version of reality seem more legitimate.
Church, we’re living in a time where if something doesn’t go our way, if we miss out on something, if we’re jealous of someone or something, we can find something on the internet that will make us feel better. We can bend reality to fit what we think is right, what will make us feel better in the moment. Maybe during the week between Jesus’ first appearance to his disciples, and when he finally reveals himself to Thomas—maybe Thomas’ insistence on needing visual and tangible proof before he believed help him cope with what he missed out on. Certainly feeling stubborn and skeptical was better than feeling his disappointment and grief. Surely posturing and being the tough skeptic was a little easier than giving into the difficult feelings of melancholy.
The instant gratification that comes with the world we live in can be nice in the moment—finding something that fits the narrative that makes our lives better, that makes us feel less disappointed about something—or maybe, less guilty. It lets us walk through life with walls up, with a shield to ward off bad feelings and hard truths. But when we allow ourselves to be confronted with full, undeniable truth, we can let it all go, we can stop putting up walls, stop posturing, and just accept the truth and then work with that we’ve got.
When Thomas, after his week of moping, sees Jesus in the flesh, he doesn’t challenge Jesus in any way. He barely even responds to Jesus’ offer of seeing and touching his wounds, his scars. Because Thomas knew the truth all along, it was just initially too much for him to believe. It was too good to be true, too upsetting to think of what he missed out on. But just seeing Jesus, just laying his eyes upon him, you can hear abounding joy in his exclamation of My Lord and my God! You can also hear such relief. No more does Thomas have to do the work of fighting his feelings, no more does Thomas have to put on a brave and cynical face—Jesus reveals himself and Thomas gives in. Jesus reveals himself and Thomas can know openly what he knew inside all along—what Mary told the rest of the disciples, and what the rest of the disciples told him. From this point forward, Thomas can go out into the world the spread the good news—he can go out into the world with a renewed sense of joy, but also a renewed sense of trust and humility.
Now don’t misunderstand me—I’m not saying we should take everything at face value, I’m not saying we should never question what we’re told—the more we question, the better, for the most part. But my interpretation of Thomas this time around is less of the critically thinking skeptic, and more of a hurt and disappointed young man. It’s more someone who made an impulsive statement as a reaction to feeling left out, than some kind of high and mighty pessimist. Because these were his friends telling him the news—these were trusted confidants, a group of people who had just been through a huge traumatic ordeal together, why would they lie to him about something like this? And why would Thomas, who apparently had seen sign after sign from Jesus (after all the Gospel of John is full of signs and miracles), why would this, the fulfilled prophesy, be a bridge too far for him?
I think there is a time and a place to focus on the interpretation of Doubting Thomas as the curious one, as the critical thinker, as the relatable skeptic. I think it’s absolutely crucial to leave space and give permission for wondering and questioning. But I think right now, we’re surrounded by so much bad news, so much disappointment. We’ve missed out on so much over this past year, haven’t we? Some much more so than others. We need a reminder that we can trust the words of loved ones, we can trust the words of the experts. We need a reminder that we need to face the truth no matter how difficult it may be. When we stop fighting tooth and nail against the truth; when we stop doing mental gymnastics to change the narrative to make our lives easier, we can give in—not give up—but give in to the truth, and work to change all that’s wrong. We can stop putting so much emotional energy into being right, or being better no matter what the reality of the situation is. And we can accept the hard truths and work to make those truths a little easier.
I know it’s not likely we’ll see Jesus in the flesh in this lifetime. I know it’s hard sometimes, to believe in what we can’t see. I know it’s difficult all the time, facing disappointments, I know it’s hard facing realities that aren’t convenient or easy for us. But I find so much hope in this: “‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” Church, I don’t know about you all, but I felt that breath, I felt the Holy Spirit in every warm Spring breeze over the past few days. I felt the Holy Spirit at work all through Holy Week, which, leading up to the resurrection, is all about facing tragic and heartbreaking truths.
Just hear the relief in Thomas’ voice when he finally sees Jesus “My Lord and my God.” There’s not a moment of hesitation, not a moment of skepticism; his stubbornness goes out the window—he sees Jesus and he knows, because he always knew.
It’s okay to be skeptical, it’s great to ask questions—but I think we should ask where the questions are coming from. Are we genuinely curious? Genuinely interested in enthusiastically investigating the mysteries of life and faith? Genuinely passionate about figuring out the answers to tough questions in order to make this world better for all people? Or are we just cynical? Jealous? Are we asking questions in bad faith, are we looking for the wrong answers or playing devil’s advocate just to make ourselves feel or look better? While we are being intentional about discovering the roots of our questions and our doubts, we can also be intentional about finding the Holy Spirit in our everyday lives. We can be buoyed by, not our blind faith, but by our discerning and curious faith. We can trust that the Holy Spirit is always breathing life into us. Amen.
