The Thomas in all of us: Searching for faith in a proof-driven world

Scripture: John 20:19-31

           There may be no character in scripture who elicits such polar reactions as Thomas. Maligned as the doubter by many and defended as the truest disciple by others, he is a walking paradox. While most of the disciples are fairly anonymous—seriously, tell me a story about Bartholomew—Thomas is known for his stunning acts of faith but, more often, for this critical moment in John’s Gospel where his belief is dependent on proof.

            The conflicting opinions on Thomas are summed up nicely in an exchange from the 2006 movie, The Da Vinci Code. If you’ve never seen The Da Vinci Code, well, first of all, just don’t; it’s a conspiracy theory laden story that takes about ten steps too far into fiction while pretending to be actually plausible. But putting that aside, the typical exchange between characters in The Da Vinci Code goes something like this: Character A brings up a biblical character, a piece of art or artifact, or an historical event, then Character B spouts some stereotype about that character/artifact/event, allowing Character A to chastise Character B and assert that their simple understanding is really an elaborate hoax perpetuated by groups C, D, and E for purpose F in order to accomplish G, given criteria H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, and P. At which time, Character B blindly accepts Character A’s analysis as flawless and the story moves forward.

            The fact that The Da Vinci Code topped the New York Times bestseller list for several weeks says some sad things about humanity, but that’s maybe another issue (and, if you’re looking for a little hope for humanity, the one book that outsold it in 2003 was Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix).

            More on point, in one of these exchanges in The Da Vinci Code the two characters are talking about Thomas. Naturally, Character B wastes no time jumping to the stereotype, saying, “Oh, you mean the doubter,” and, predictably, Character A becomes agitated that Character B does not know Thomas’ whole story, at which point I have a brief moment of hope that perhaps we will learn something useful from The Da Vinci Code. But—alas—it is not to be, because instead of talking about the interesting Thomas who shows signs of faith earlier in John’s Gospel, suggesting that there is more going on in this story than simple doubt, Character A instead goes off on a typical wild tangent about the church’s cover up of the Gospel of Thomas, which in his estimation was Thomas’ true legacy. I don’t remember what happens next, because I think every time I have watched this scene I have turned the channel in disgust.

            I don’t know what it says about human beings that we have the stories right in front of us, but instead of looking at the fascinating characters that reality presents we are forever looking for conspiracies that conceal deeper motives. I have no problem with you going out and reading the Gospel of Thomas—you can find it online or even in some religious book stores—but what you are reading is not a secret new account of Jesus’ life. What you are reading is an account that was thrown out of the canon by the early church because it didn’t actually show us Jesus. Again, this is off-subject, but I feel the need to go there since a dozen of you heard the words “conspiracy theory” and mentally checked off the box in your brains that says, “Google that later.”

            Anyway, the far more interesting character is the Thomas who actually appears in John’s Gospel. We don’t need a conspiracy; the real Thomas is fascinating enough; and he tells us a whole lot about what it means to be a disciple, which is, you know, kind of important for those of us who want to follow after Jesus. Thomas is mostly known for doubting the resurrection, and that much is true. He asked for proof, and Jesus later gives him such a beautifully passive-aggressive retort that it could have been said by a Norwegian: “Blessed are those who have not seen and have come to believe”—just grinding salt into the wounds. But in order to fully understand this scene we need to know a couple of things: 1. every one of the disciples doubted. In fact, just a few verses earlier Jesus appears to the disciples in a locked room; he literally beams into their fortress of solitude and nobody bats an eyelash as he says “Peace be with you.” This is astounding. Jesus, the person who Mary claimed to have seen risen from the grave a whole eight maybe ten hours before, appears IN A LOCKED ROOM, greets the disciples, and for the span of a verse in the Gospel account they have no reaction.

            And what does it take for them to believe, might we ask? Oh yes, Jesus “showed them his hands and his side” and “then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” The sudden appearance in a locked room didn’t do it—I just can’t over this… what did the disciples think? He came through the window?—what made all the difference were the hands and side; the very same things that Thomas asks to see and to touch in order to believe. So, yes, Thomas doubted, and so did every single other one of the disciples about ten seconds earlier in our reading.

The second reason why it is important that Thomas is the one called out is because when Thomas appeared earlier in the Gospel of John he was portrayed as the bravest of the twelve. When the others try to get Jesus to avoid going to Bethany because the people there mean to kill him Thomas calls them out, telling them to go along so that they might die with him (John 11:6). Then, later, when the disciples are unsure of what Jesus means when he is talking about his death, Thomas is the one who summons the courage to ask, “Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” He clarifies what the other disciples are unwilling to ask and he stands by Jesus in adversity.

So, this may very well be why Jesus uses Thomas to make a point about the resurrection. If Thomas doubts, then surely none of us would have believed. And the truth is that we don’t. We don’t believe without touching Christ in our own way. Sure, maybe Jesus hasn’t appeared to you and offered that you touch his wounds—I don’t want to assume but I’m guessing that’s probably not the case—but in other ways we are always looking for proof, unsatisfied with sightless faith.

            This is evident in the way Christians are treating a more current movie, Heaven is for Real. If you’re not familiar, this is a movie based on a book about the supposed true story of a young boy’s near-death experience of heaven. It might seem like an obvious question, but it bears asking: Why is this so popular? What is it about this boy’s experience of the afterlife that resonates with us? And might this also be a case where we need proof for something that we are meant to take on faith?

            I’m amazed how we are constantly looking to things like Heaven is for Real and the Gospel of Thomas for reasons to believe while at the same time we look down on Thomas for asking for proof. We all doubt. We are all looking for those marks in the hands. In the 21^st century those marks look a little different, but we’re still looking for evidence for faith. It is perfectly reasonable to believe because of our experiences, but in the Gospel of John sight is seen as a vice rather than a virtue. True faith is sightless; it is believing not because of proof but in spite of a world that appears godless. And that’s why I’m deeply suspicious about stories like Heaven is for Real and countless other bestsellers in the same mold. Firstly, they don’t tell a story that sounds much like the biblical description of the afterlife, and secondly, I wonder why we are looking in the experiences of others for reasons to believe. What we need is a promise, not a proof. As a pastor friend of mine said: “The boy gets wings and a halo. Gross. The boy gets to be in the presence of the glory of God, permanently and forever. Yes.”

            We get hung up on particulars, but what matters is the promise. And so it is with our faith. There are many forces out there that are tempting you to look at Gnostic gospels, and conspiracy theories, and New York Times bestsellers, and even into your own soul, and they are telling you that God can be solved like a math problem. And they are helping you to make God into whatever image you want; and that heaven is exactly what you want it to be. But Jesus obliterates those expectations—there’s really no other way to put it. Faith is found not in our personal experiences but in the incarnation of Jesus Christ, which we don’t get to see, taste, or touch. You can trick yourself into thinking you have proof of it. You may even have very legitimate experiences of faith—experiences you can’t explain. That’s good. God continues to work mysteriously in our lives, even as the Holy Spirit is always guiding us whether we realize it or not. But none of this is proof. It can’t be, because otherwise Jesus would have applauded Thomas for waiting to touch; otherwise Thomas would have been the greatest disciple precisely because of his actions.

            Instead, Jesus said, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Blessed are those who trust in the Word of God, deeply challenging as it may be, rather than a bestseller written last year. Blessed are those who have never had a personal experience they can point to as divine and yet still believe. But, better yet, in light of Thomas, blessed are all those who have faith—no matter its origins—because it is not a testament to our inner will, or strength, or ability to fight off the devil, but rather it is a testament to God that any of us believe at all. We have something inside of us that craves touching before believing and living vicariously through the accounts of others, but we have a God who we know in Jesus Christ that makes all of that moot. God came down in the person of Jesus—not so that we would have proof for our faith but so that the faith we have would be in something real; a salvation that only he could accomplish.