Doubting Thomas - NOT!


St Thomas has a generally bad press – ‘a doubting Thomas’ has become a cliché, and most statements about this apostle forget the faith he showed, when Jesus said he was returning to Judea after Lazarus’ death despite the risk, saying, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (John 11:16) And after his encounter with the Risen Christ in the upper room, he goes further than any of the others in declaring, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28)

The reason he is labelled a doubter is, of course, his saying – when told by the others that they had seen the Risen One - “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it” (John 20:25.) The problem is that, as often happens, we fail to read the words of scripture carefully enough. Thomas does not say he needs to see Jesus. He says he needs to see the nail marks, and touch the wound in his side. In other words, he wants to see that the Risen Jesus is still wounded.

Why? Is it simply that he needs a demonstration of continuity, to prove it is the same Jesus? Possibly, but I wonder if there is not a more profound reason. The fact is that, when Jesus does manifest himself to Thomas, he invites him to touch his hands, and even place his hand within the wound in Jesus’ side. In others words, there is not only continuity of identity, but a continuing state of woundedness. The Resurrection is not a fairy-tale happy ending. The reality that Christ is risen includes the uncomfortable and mysterious reality that he is still wounded, indeed still hurting.

The Lord and God in whom Thomas places his faith is one who has experienced – and still experiences – pain. And that has a significant impact on our understanding of how we relate to him – particularly in this time when suffering and death are closer to many of us than they have ever been before. As the writer to the Hebrews says, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathise with our weaknesses…” (Hebrews 4:15); and this, it seems, does not only apply to our experience of temptation and trial – but also to our own suffering and pain. Pascal said, “Jesus will be in agony even to the end of the world. We must not sleep during that time.” He was referring particularly to the Lord’s struggle in the Garden of Gethsemane – but the account of the appearance of Jesus to Thomas suggests that Jesus still bears the actual wounds inflicted on him – they are not just scars, and they are not ‘wiped away’ by the Resurrection.

I find that both challenging and comforting. It means our wounds, our pains and our sufferings can enable us to identify with the Lord, and trust that we will share his victory and his resurrection. He not only knew, he eternally knows what wounds are, what pain is. All the questions and doubts that arise in us when we encounter suffering, whether in ourselves or in others, are real, but can point us in the direction of the one who has been raised and who lives in the presence of the Father. Because his suffering, death and resurrection hold together, we can begin to grasp and treasure the mystery that “he always lives to intercede for [us]” (Hebrews 7:25.)

The existence of open wounds on the body of the Risen Christ underlines that we do indeed proclaim a suffering and victorious God. Much traditional spirituality understands this continuity. Julian of Norwich can write eloquently of the ‘Showings’ of Christ’s love, because of her vision of the ongoing suffering of the crucified Jesus. St Margaret Mary’s devotion to the Sacred Heart arose from her experience of the long-suffering love of him whose heart was broken for humanity. And many are still helped by the 14th century prayer Anima Christi, with its crucial words, “O good Jesus, hear me; within thy wounds hide me.” That is a powerful image, and one that may bring many some hope and consolation during this strange and difficult time.

Eternally Wounded and Risen Jesus, Lord and God – have mercy on us.

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