“‘…And you know the way to the place where I am going.’ Thomas said to him, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.’”
It’s interesting to sit again with the character of Thomas with this morning’s lectionary story in John 14:1-14. Returning to this pre-Easter story feels fitting because in these post-Easter, pre-Pentecost days, we get a strong sense of the disciples’ confusion and their struggles to understand. A minister friend of mine says that it is the one season in the church year where she actually really knows where she is. Muddling through half-blind, catching only the outlines and struggling to make sense of it all. A familiar place, don’t you think? Today in the midst of that struggle, we sit again with Doubting Thomas.
In today’s story, however, he might need another nickname. Questioning Thomas or Insistent Thomas, perhaps. Thomas the Bold.
There is a legend of another nicknamed Thomas. The story goes that a 13th century Scottish laird named Thomas was captured by the Queen of Elfland while he was sleeping beneath a tree on a fine summer’s day. Many years later, he was returned home again and given the choice of a gift as payment for his service to the Queen – he could have either great musical talent or the gift of prophecy. He chose the later and amazed everyone with his ability to tell amazing truths of things unknown and things yet to come. For this gift, he earned nicknames: Thomas the Rhymer and True Thomas.
A strange opposite to dear old Doubting Thomas in the Gospels. And yet, there is something of True Thomas to our apostle, too. He speaks the truth of his heart. He speaks the honest questions that we all have. How can we know the way? What on earth does Jesus mean? How can we understand?
Thomas seems a consistent character. Three times, we hear Thomas’ words three times in the Gospel of John: first when Lazarus has died and the disciples fear returning to Judea where Jesus’ life has been threatened. We hear Thomas say: ““Let us also go, that we may die with him.” We hear him again here in John 14:5, questioning Jesus and seeking reassurance. Then we hear him after Easter when he doubts the story of the disciples and wants to see the risen Christ with his own eyes. In each instant, Thomas speaks with a consistent, naked honesty. He is brave enough to speak the words of his heart.
Sadly for him, he doesn’t get nicknamed Thomas the Brave. Instead, he has another nickname in John’s Gospel. Thomas the Twin. But we are never told the identity of his twin – or even if it is a true twin. Maybe the name was just an inside joke among the disciples – like Peter the Rock, strong but sometimes an obstacle. Maybe Thomas was an excellent mimic. Maybe he just stood too close when he was talking to you. Maybe we’re meant to wonder about this and to ask. Because maybe we are Thomas’ twin. He might be our reflection. All of us who find we have awkward questions. All of us who still want to understand and to see. Like Thomas, sometimes we can be courageous and honest, and sometimes we are awkward, too. We’re demanding. Blind and doubting. Bold. And yet we, too, are met by the living Christ that we might come to believe.
““Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”
Back before Easter, I mentioned the sonnets of Malcolm Guite. I’ve now stumbled upon his blog. (I tell you, fancy things happen when you think to google writers you like…go figure.) He has a marvellous Thomas sonnet, which he also shares in his book Sounding the Seasons. I think he captures our embodied need and the truth-telling of Thomas most wonderfully. Here’s a little – but do visit his blog for the whole poem. It’s a good one.
“Oh doubting Thomas, father of my faith,
You put your finger on the nub of things
We cannot love some disembodied wraith,
But flesh and blood must be our king of kings.”
