So, I've said this often, and if you were at our post-Morning Prayer discussion on Zoom, you heard Fr. Brooks and I talk about it. And it's this: I always thought Thomas got a bad rap.
In Jerusalem, you simply cannot find an icon of him. (Granted you can find an icon of the Last Supper...he's in that. But so is Judas). But you just don't find icons of him in some beatific pose. And this is weird. Peter denied Jesus three times. And there's icons of him all over the place. He even has his own assigned color in iconography – Yellow.
But Thomas? If he had a color, it would be invisible ink. I just don't get it.
In fact if you look at some of the legends built up around Thomas, he turns out a lot better than we often give him credit for in this day and age when “Doubting Thomas” is about all we remember of him.
Some legends say that the reason Thomas wasn't locked up and cowering with the other disciples in that room that night was because he was actually out, on the streets, telling people about the resurrection. And that he didn't doubt that Jesus returned as much as he doubted that Jesus would return to a bunch of scaredy cats who ran away as soon as they could.
I like that.
And most Thomas legends have him eventually making his way to India, where a large number of St. Thomas Christians still exist today around Mylapore. And when Vasco Da Gama and his bunch of Portugese explorers sailed to India, they were stunned to find Christian churches there before them. And they did what explorers tend to do, they raided the churches, took the St. Thomas relics away, and established a brisk business in Portugal selling St. Thomas' bones and whatnot. Not all stories have a happy ending, it seems.
But my most favorite story is that one that has it that an Indian king discovered that Thomas was a skilled carpenter and gave him a whole lot of money to build a grand church. Thomas then took the money and gave it all to the poor. The king got angry and demanded to see his church. And Thomas took the king out into the streets, showed him the poor and wretched souls of his kingdom, and said, “There, sire, is your church.”
But we don't have those stories today. We have THIS story. And in THIS story, Thomas says what he says. “Unless I see and touch the wounds of Jesus, I won't believe.” And we're back to Doubting Thomas. Poor, poor Thomas.
But friends, I sometimes wonder if the story is really focused on Thomas at all. I mean, obviously, he takes a starring role. But there's something bigger here at play, I think. And at the same time something smaller.
Something else in this reading has caught my attention in the Gospel this time. It's this: I wonder. . . did you ever wonder. . . just why Jesus was still carrying around his wounds to begin with?
I mean, here he is, Resurrected Jesus, God incarnate. He's sacrificed himself on the cross for all humanity. And to top it off, he ACTUALLY did rise again after three days, having defeated death itself. He has clearly demonstrated his divinity, shown his followers that they were right to follow, showed them the power of God-made-man in the world. And this is a big deal because this is a big God at work here.
So, why stay wounded?
Is this an overlooked detail on God's part? Wouldn't it have been even better if Jesus had shown up without a scratch, declaring that even mankind's flaws and flawed nature have no power over God and God's perfection?
This has been bugging me. Why carry those wounds? Why carry that shame, that pain, those memories?
And suddenly, back into my mind came my favorite bit of a poem by St. Theresa of Avila:
Yours are the feet with which [Christ] walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours. . .
And friends, we are wounded people. All of us. We ARE the hands and feet of Christ in the world, we are the body of Christ in the world, but we are still so very, very wounded.
The risen Christ remains wounded because WE still are. The risen Christ remains wounded because his divinity so loves our humanity, that he will live with us, will live LIKE us, touching us, feeling us, even down to our wounded souls. Forever.
And if I were writing a story of St. Thomas, THIS is what Thomas so desperately needed to see. The Apostles run up to him and say “Guess what! We've seen Jesus!!!” And I like to think that Thomas thinks, “A truly risen Jesus, the Jesus who claims so deep a divine love, HAS to have those wounds. Those wounds are the wounds of every one of us, bound up in him. I need to see them. This is all about nothing, if the wounds are gone.”
I like to think that's what Thomas knew. . . and that's what Thomas came to see.
And if Thomas did even half the things of legends, this is why he did them, because the wounds of Christ are everywhere. Everywhere there is a human being, there is the wound of Christ. And we as followers of Christ, like Thomas, should be there, touching those wounds, those wounded people, bearing witness to their lives, offering them healing and comfort and love. Offering them the power of Jesus.
It seems hard to do those things nowadays, what with our hunkering down and social distancing. It seems hard now when we are isolated, kept out of our places of worship. But remember the story of Thomas' church. It wasn't a church at all. It was all of those people out in the world who so needed love. Follow in his foot steps. When you are finally safe to go out, go out looking for the wounds of Christ.
Go out looking for the wounded in Christ.
Go out and touch those wounds.
Go out and heal those wounds, loving those wounded.
Go out loving and loving and loving, like Thomas loved his Lord and his God.
Even before we are able to gather again in our buildings, you will be able to go out. Do that first. Touch the wounds of Christ first. Love the wounded in Christ first. Heal and be healed first.
Because where you go to love and heal...THAT's where church is. That's where church always is.
Don't ever, ever doubt it.
Amen.