It's so easy for us, right? We did our weeks of Lent, being somber, walking through Holy Week, coming to the gob-smacking realization that sometimes (probably most of the time), it just simply isn't about us.
But, in the back of our minds, we knew that in the end, it would all work out. It would end in an Easter Resurrection, a glorious vindication of love over death. Of truth over lies. Of justice over corruption.
So, sometimes we give Thomas a hard time about his doubting here in this passage. And like I say most every year, I'm not sure we're being fair. Because, what the disciples experienced during these days after the crucifixion was not ham and easter egg hunts and bonnets and chocolate bunnies. What they experienced was fear, and terror, and despair, and finally doubt.
The disciples were hiding in a locked room, but they were not cowards. They were doing the right thing. People might be out there looking for them, and if they found them, they wouldn't just be questioned. They would be snatched up for their own crucifixion, or disappeared to salt mines or slave ships, never to be seen again.
The government had spread lies before, and they were spreading lies now. A body was missing, the body of their Master. They were suspects. If they'd stolen the body, there was a reason, and that reason could only be subversive. Regardless of who the disciples really were, they were now other things, things the government said they were. Terrorists and murderers. Members of this marauding gang of thugs out there among us.
Things have gone bad so fast. They had seen up close and personal what Temple due process was like, what a Roman trial was like. They knew that being found equaled being crucified. They had seen that, too. So, you'll pardon them for thinking that there's not enough time to reflect on the theological implications of resurrection at this moment.
And it's into this fearful tableau that Jesus appears and says, “Shalom...peace be with you.” He says it again. Shalom. Peace. In the midst of all this fear and anxiety, Jesus brings peace. And when he leaves, he leaves unlocked doors. . . and unlocked hearts.
But Thomas was not there. Thomas did not witness this. Thomas did not receive Jesus' Shalom. He was out there, outside, maybe running from place to place, but legend has it, he was still caring for others, feeding others, loving others. He had seen Jesus die, but what Jesus commanded still lived. So, in spite of it all, Thomas was out there. And when he learned what had happened in this room, he couldn't believe it. His despair, his fear, was still so deep, so raw.
Throughout history, we've been hard on this Thomas in this passage. But all those theologians and artists over so many centuries aren’t alone in their contempt for Thomas. We still throw around “Doubting Thomas” as an insult. We are so eager to use “doubt” as a vehicle for hatred. If you doubt what I say, you are “on the other side.” If you disagree with someone, if you doubt what they say, this is no longer a entree into a discussion. It's throwing down the gauntlet. “Them's fighting words!!!”
But how can doubt not rule the day, when lying from the very top down rules the land? When sowing doubt is the lingua franca of Judea. And here, at home, today? Y'all, according to the powers and principalities ruling the land, the price of eggs are now be about thirty-eight cents a dozen! Imagine how terrifying unfounded lies are for Thomas, out there getting a second look, a suspicious side-eye. When the result of the lie is not eye-rolling, but head-rolling.
So why, throughout history, do we single Thomas out, and treat him as if he was the irrational one?
We don't even think twice about the fact that those other disciples told Thomas this awesome news ONLY after THEY had seen Jesus. Before that, they were cowering in the corner of a locked room, also doubting that they'd ever be safe again, surely not thinking that Jesus was about to pop back into their lives.
We don't bat an eye at the story of the women at the tomb, thinking that Jesus's body has been stolen, not even considering that Jesus had told them he would rise after three days. Their doubt that that could ever happen caused them to weep so much that they couldn't see Jesus standing right in front of them.
But for some reason, we've made Thomas different, and saddled him with a stubborn, “I-disagree-with-your-presentation-of-the-facts” statement. And we don't want to stand with Thomas if what he's saying is, “Guys, I hear you, but I don't think it happened because I don't think Jesus will be resurrected.” We don't want to stand there.
But I don't think this is what Thomas is saying. I think Thomas is saying, “I hear you, but I am so wounded right now, I am so hurt and sorrowful, I am so lonely without Jesus whispering his 'Shalom' in my ear, that I don't think I'll ever be able to even trust again.”
Because Thomas knows things that we need to keep in our souls because he knows things that have crushed his soul.
Because, unlike us, Thomas knows all about crucifixion. Knows the nails driven into victims really tear the flesh, damage the bones.
And he knows that this is a crucifying world, with all its violence, greed and oppression still hammering nails into the hands of justice, still thrusting spears through the ribs of love, still hanging mercy and kindness on the cross to die and sealing it up the tomb.
Thomas knows all about it. So he knows that any real resurrection will have to come out of all of that, will have to come out still bearing the scars inflicted by the unjust world.
And Thomas needs to SEE that. His heart can't take it otherwise. Thomas needs to SEE it.
Thomas needs to see his Lord, who rises from death by crucifixion, who rises from the worst that our world can do: who rises from hells of corruption and cruelty, who rises from violence and terror and hate, who rises from rape and torture and war, who rises from hunger and disease and squalor, who rises torn and scarred yet walking among us still.
Thomas needs to see the One who will touch us in our wounded-ness, who will hold us in our brokenness, who sees in US the prints left by the nails, who will put his own hurt hand upon our heartache, fear and despair... and breathe his healing Shalom into our souls.
This is who Thomas wants to see – the only Lord he wants to believe in. Thomas's heart, his soul, his very being cries out. He just wants to see Jesus again. And he wants to believe that “Shalom, peace be with you,” is not a lie, but the truth.
Can you really blame him?