Redeeming Thomas
April 7, 2013
John 20:19-31
Two years ago, I attended the Mennonite national convention, held in Pittsburgh. There, the subject of homosexuality was at a fevered pitch. The convention and denominational leaders decided to hold a “conversation room” where participants would be led in respectful conversations on difficult, contentious matters to the wider church.
I went to the first conversation about sexuality, and got there late. And they were out of room in the allotted space, so many of us who were also late tried to have an ad hoc conversation in the area outside of the meeting room. It was a disaster of a conversation—which is a story for another sermon perhaps—but there was moment that really stuck out for me in the otherwise disastrous conversation.
I was in a group with an older woman who wore a covering. While we were struggling to talk about scripture and sexuality, this woman looked at me and said sincerely, “So, when I read the bible, I understand that it is true, but when you read it, you don’t believe it’s true?”
Her words took my breath away. “No,” I said, “that’s not what I believe. I believe that every word in the bible is true, but I think you and I understand that truths of the scripture differently.”
That was a moment of breaking open for both of us. I had some compassion for her misunderstanding (because I once shared her perspective on people like me), and I think she realized that I wasn’t being flip about scripture. That moment gave us opportunity to talk together at length.
It turns out that I knew this woman from a long time ago. She and my dad grew up together in the same small, conservative Mennonite community in South Jersey. I used to visit her when I’d go to the Cowtown flea market with my dad—and we’d get donuts and shoe fly pie from her Dutch bakery there. We talked about growing up in South Jersey, our families, and parenting. The conversation went far beyond where it started, amidst a difficult and strained conversation around sexuality. By the end of our long conversation, I felt that I knew her much better.
I’ve been thinking about that moment with my conservative Mennonite sister as I’ve read Thomas’ story this week. How easy it is to misunderstand someone until you’ve come face to face with them until you’ve really gotten to know them. Thomas is terribly misunderstood in the Christian tradition. He’s become the scapegoat for doubt, a victim of people that fear questions, and fear seeing and understanding the story in a different way. We’ve been trained, in some schools of interpretation, to see Thomas as the most incredulous, the most arrogantly disbelieving of all the disciples. So, let’s take some time this morning, and break it open, and get to know Thomas a little better.
There are two references to Thomas that take place before this text from John 20.
In John 11, when Jesus was on his way to heal Lazarus, the disciples were not thrilled about Jesus going there. It was an out of the way trip. They were convinced that Lazarus was only asleep and would awaken momentarily. And they knew that Jesus’ life was in danger if he went and healed Lazarus. But, Thomas said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, so that we may die with him.” Thomas seemed to know the trajectory of Jesus ministry—it would lead to death. This does not seem like the arrogant disbelieving disciple we thought we knew. This disciple knew what Jesus was about, and he was not afraid to follow him, even to his death.
In John 14, when Jesus said to the disciples, “In Abba God’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again, and I will take you to myself, so that where I am there you may be also. And you know the place I am going.”
The disciples were confused about what Jesus was saying to them. But, Thomas was the only one to ask the question. “Lord, we don’t know where you are going. How will we know the way?” Thomas’ question was honest and direct. He didn’t pretend to know what Jesus was talking about. He asked a good questions—a question that I would have wanted to have the answer to, but may have been too afraid to ask.
And Jesus responded to the question by saying, “I am the way, the truth and the life.” That answer didn’t make things any less murky, but at least Thomas and the disciples were clear that they were following Jesus.
The last time we run into Thomas is there in that Upper Room. The doors were all locked, because the disciples were afraid. They feared to go outside, that they like Jesus might be killed. But Thomas–who we can assume was not afraid because he was not in the room—Thomas did not see Jesus the first time he appeared to the disciples there. And because he was out—presumably getting supplies, or scoping out the post crucifixion environment—he missed Jesus the first time he revealed himself to the fear-filled disciples. Jesus breathed his holy calm on the disciples. No revenge, no questions, no anger from Jesus. Just “peace be with you.”
But Thomas, the one who was out of the room, already being fearless, came back to learn that he had missed Jesus. He did not get to see Jesus in resurrected form.
And Thomas didn’t believe it. Perhaps he thought that the disciples had seen a ghost. He didn’t want to see the ghost of Jesus past. He wanted to see the fleshy Jesus, the impure broken body of his crucified Rabbi. He needed to see the medieval gash on Jesus’ side, and the scabbing, oozing holes in his hands and feet. The ghost of crucified Jesus wasn’t going to fill the void. He missed his living friend, his teacher.
Jesus returned to his disciples later that week, and marked by the empire, breathed PAX on them. When Thomas saw Jesus, he didn’t have to put his hands in the wounds to know that it was Jesus, in the flesh. He saw the wounds. He saw the gash. He knew Jesus was no ghost, but was the real, alive fleshy, transformed Jesus.
And Thomas, seeing the flesh of Jesus, the real-ness of Jesus, transformed by the cross, but still alive, declared that which the Gospel writer declared in John 1: In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. And the word became flesh.”
Thomas said, “My Lord and my God.”
And then, it seems as if the gospel writer turns to you, the listener, and says this: 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 might come to believe that Jesus is the Son of God….
A little word about the Greek. When it says “so that you may come to believe” it also can mean “so that you may continue to believe.” Which says something about Thomas, doesn’t it? Thomas already believed, but his encounter with the fleshy risen Christ gave him hope to continue to believe.
This is not a text about Doubting Thomas. This is not a text about a disciple that couldn’t understand what was happening. This is a text about fearless Thomas, faithful Thomas, wondering and questioning Thomas. This is a story about a follower of Jesus that engaged him in a way that no other disciple did—he asked direct questions, he understood the consequences of Jesus ministry, and he had faith enough to leave the upper room when the others were too afraid.
But until we get to know Thomas, we accept this notion that he’s a doubter, and that doubting is bad. Until we look at the scope of the story, we think that Jesus is admonishing Thomas. But, stick with Thomas, get to know him, and you see that he is Jesus’ faithful follower. Read the story all the way through and see the great compassion and openness that Jesus had to Thomas’ questions.
We often meet people like a snapshot. Our opinions of them are based on our brief encounters. Sometimes we can develop unrealistically positive or negative views of someone based on one brief moment with a them.
But what we see is not often what is real or true. It’s not the whole picture, the fullness of a person’s personality, until we spend time with them.
The time spent with my conservative Mennonite sister, opened my eyes and hers. In the same way, time spent in the story—with Jesus, the disciples and Thomas—fills in the story of these characters and gives us a better understanding of everyone in that upper room that day. Jesus was no ghost, but a real in-the-flesh transformed by crucifixion Jesus. Thomas was less of a doubter, and more of a believer than he is given credit for.
I pray that this Easter season—this celebration of resurrection—is a time for us to see the faithfulness of Thomas, the resurrection of Jesus, and the hope and new life in each of us. May we be surprised and delighted by what we find. AMEN.