Revisiting Thomas
Text: John 20:19-31
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The idea of caricature—flattening a complex person to one exaggerated trait—is all too common. It happens with actors who get type-cast. It happens with predictable characters in movies who you can tell are the good guy or the bad guy from a mile away. It even happens in real life: you define someone almost exclusively based on one feature, one trait, one personality quirk. But we know, usually from having it done to us or by getting to know someone on a deeper level, that this isn’t a good way of understanding a person’s character or actions. Yet, we still do it.
Our Gospel reading today features the Apostle Thomas. You’ve most likely heard him called “Doubting Thomas.” That’s a label, a caricature, that has stuck. It’s flattened him into a cautionary tale, a lesson about believing instead of not believing, a moralizing lesson about not wanting proof but instead just accepting. But when we look at the broader picture of Thomas in John’s gospel, we find out that he’s a much more complex person than many are willing to see at first glance. We would do well to get to know him a little more before we dive into what’s happening in our reading today.
Earlier in John’s gospel, when Jesus first announces that He’s going back to Judea to raise Lazarus from the dead, the disciples balk. “Rabbi,” they said, “the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?” When Jesus confirms that they are indeed going back, it’s Thomas who says, “Let us go, that we may die with him.” This is not a cold skeptic or even a doubter in his Teacher. Those are the words of a man who’s fiercely loyal, even willing to die with Jesus because he believes that Jesus is speaking truth. And even when we look at Thomas’ absence from Jesus’ first post-resurrection appearance in our reading for today, St. John doesn’t tell us that it’s because Thomas had abandoned hope or because he lost his faith. It’s just circumstance. He simply wasn’t there. And if we press even further, Thomas’ response to the disciples saying that they saw the Lord isn’t disdainful or dismissive. He’s grieving the loss of his Lord whom he loved. He’s not going to allow cheap comfort. He simply wants the exact same thing that Jesus gave to the other Apostles—His pierced hands and side. He wants to make sure that there’s something real to cling to, not a story that’s too good to be true or a delusion or a hallucination. Thomas is not a cautionary figure to be flattened down to the single word “doubting.” He’s the honest one. And that makes what happens to him matter in an entirely different way.
After all, look at who it is that’s locked in that room out of fear: it’s all the other disciples. They’re paralyzed by fear and hiding. It’s only Thomas that’s somewhere outside, out there in the world. And the position that he takes—hearing the testimony of the other disciples who had seen the Lord, but unable to verify it firsthand, holding out until he can be sure it’s true—that’s the position that the other disciples took too. St. Luke tells us that when Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women told the disciples about everything they had seen (and the body of Jesus they had not seen) in the empty tomb, we read that “these words seemed to [the Apostles] an idle tale, and they did not believe them.” So here Thomas is not taking a position of radical doubt or skepticism. He’s simply in the position of everyone who’s come to faith since that first Easter evening, everyone who wasn’t an eyewitness right away. Thomas represents all those who weren’t there in that room, from circumstances then on that first day of Jesus’ resurrection, or for those who have the circumstance of simply being born after that first Easter. And that includes us. Thomas is our representative.
Jesus Himself affirms this. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Those words aren’t for Thomas. He does get to see and believe in our account today. Those words are for everyone that Thomas represents, who wasn’t in that locked room, who haven’t gotten to be eyewitnesses. Jesus Himself names this category of people and calls them blessed.
And what is it that they are blessed with? It’s peace. Notice how often Jesus speaks peace in our reading today. He says it when He first arrives the first time, before Thomas is there. “Peace be with you.” He says it again when Thomas is there, eight days later. “Peace be with you.” And then, after Jesus speaks peace, then He shows them His wounds, both times—to the disciples before Thomas is there, and then to Thomas when he is there. The peace comes first. The nail and spear marks come after.
This isn’t just coincidence. Peace does not depend on seeing the wounds. Thomas has basically announced, “Show me the wounds and then I’ll believe.” But Jesus says, “Peace” and then offers the wounds. The faith Thomas receives as a gift arrives only as a response to Jesus speaking peace, creating it with His Word, as He has created everything before, by speaking. Faith is the response to Jesus’ peace, not the prerequisite for receiving it.
We should notice that Jesus is not stingy with showing His wounds, to the Apostles the first time or to Thomas afterward. That’s because the peace Jesus is speaking into existence, the peace He pronounces, it’s not just generic peace, like feeling at rest or a tranquil moment. It’s peace that the world cannot give. This is peace with God, peace with an enormous cost—His own life. This is peace that He still bears the marks of. And so Jesus shows them why they have that peace: because He’s won it. Because He bore the price of it. It’s won. It’s purchased. They don’t have to achieve it. It’s been brought to them then and there because of His passion, His death, and His resurrection. What Thomas is invited to touch is exactly what makes this peace different from any other peace in the world—this peace has conquered sin, separation from God. It’s even conquered death. This is resurrection peace, knowing that death doesn’t win in the end; peace from knowing that your Lord and God has gone ahead of you and blazed a trail through death and the grave so that you will come out with new life on the other side.
Thomas does not earn the peace by accepting the wounds. He receives it; it’s given to Him as a free gift, and within that peace He finds his Lord and his God. This is the highest confession of who Jesus is in the Gospel of John. And it’s made by Thomas—not because of the proof, not because of an argument won, but because Jesus has drawn him into His peace that passes all understanding.
It’s this peace that Christ’s entire Church has been granted. Jesus opens the door when He says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” St. John walks through that door immediately and says that this blessing is yours: “These things are written so that you may believe.” The Gospel is not only a historical record of something that happened once and is now over. It’s the continuation of that event, that ongoing reality, that keeps coming to the Church and showing us our risen Lord, with His body broken and blood shed for us, His Word proclaiming that His peace is with us always. This is what we celebrate today with Micah at his confirmation. It’s not that Micah is winning something extra from his Lord. His confirmation is the celebration that Jesus is still coming to him, as he came to Micah once in his baptism, and the good work begun there is continuing. This is the recognition that the wounds of Jesus are still washing Micah—and all who have heard the words of Jesus’ resurrection written so that we may believe—washing us all in the blood of Jesus’ covenant, drawing us in the safety of those holy wounds, keeping us secure in His resurrected life, shared with us.
What the locked room was for the disciples, what that personalized appearance was for Thomas, that’s what the Word of God read and proclaimed is for you. This is where Jesus comes to you, in all your fear, your grief, your joy, your hope, your worries, and yes, even your doubts—this is where Jesus finds you. He comes to you in His Word, in your baptism, in His Holy Supper, and there He speaks peace. It’s why that word “peace” also shows up so much throughout this service, particularly around the Sacrament. Pay attention to how many times you hear peace announced to you from now through the end of the service. The peace proclaimed to Thomas is the same peace bestowed you, to Micah, to all of God’s Church. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. That’s you. In the name of Jesus, the Living One. Amen.
