Believing without seeing

John 20:24-28

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

By Béla Iványi-Grünwald - biblia.huA Biblia a magyar képzőművészetbenPic, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18308496

Thomas, as portrayed in this story, is a character that I often sympathize with. Having followed Jesus through his public ministry, passion and death, we assume that in the days after Jesus's death he was also usually with his fellow disciples. And yet - at the crucial moment when the risen Jesus appears to the others - Thomas was absent. So the others try to tell him what happened, but Thomas wants evidence - and I've often felt, who can blame him?

In these days of widespread lockdown and social distancing we are perhaps in a similar position to Thomas, or even to the disciples before Jesus appeared, fearful and locked away in the upper room. Events over the last month or so have dramatically changed our perception of the world around us. Our world, dominated by terrible loss and suffering which hits close to home, now feels like a far more fearful place. It feels more fragmented, as our direct contact with the outside world happens in brief, necessary excursions. And it also feels more disconnected, as we communicate through online platforms and maintain physical distance from each other whenever we enter public spaces.

Like Thomas, we too want evidence of resurrection - but the dramatic changes, fear and isolation of the times we are living through can impact our ability to perceive it in the world around us. Today, we are sometimes literally unable to make use of our senses - if the scene from John's Gospel was being played out today, would Thomas have been anxious to maintain social distancing and avoid touching the wounds of Christ?

In John's account Jesus comfortingly re-appears in the flesh, and provides Thomas with the evidence he is seeking. But then he says, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe". This can seem like a strange concept - for those of us who profess to 'believe' in Christ, it might seem entirely reasonable to look for and point to our reasons for our faith. Even those of us who haven't seen Jesus directly might point to the witness of Mary Magdalene, or of the first disciples. But what about the characters from the Gospels who have not received any evidence of Jesus's resurrection? What about the faith of the woman suffering from haemorrhage, who touched the cloak of Jesus and was healed? What about the faith of Bartimaeus, who cried out for Jesus to heal him and whose sight was restored? These characters know nothing of the future death and resurrection of Jesus, of his wounded body appearing before his disciples - but they have a painful understanding of their own wounds, and they know that Jesus can heal them.

Perhaps the terrible events of recent weeks and months have revealed in some way our own wounds, the wounds of others around us, the wounds of our society and our world. The coronavirus pandemic has highlighted gross inequalities in our society around class and race, the plight of billions living in the global south as well as the devastating impact of climate change.

Unlike Thomas, we cannot see the wounds of Jesus with our own eyes. We cannot put our hands into his side and see and hear and touch, and believe. Not only that, but for many of us the last few weeks have prevented us from seeing and hearing and touching even the ones we love, or the places that are special or familiar to us. Not only are we unable to see the resurrection of Jesus in the flesh, but we are unable to see the world around us - something that we might have previously taken for granted. But perhaps we are being shown the wounds of the risen Christ in a new way - in the wounds of our living world, of God's precious creation. 

Like the woman with the haemorrhage, or like Bartimaeus, perhaps our faith lies in knowing our need of God, in recognizing the wounded-ness of ourselves and our world. As we recognize these wounds, perhaps we can also recognize the resurrection which is happening alongside - the work of God's creative touch, which brings this wounded world into new life, again and again. It is this recognition that can enable us to shout with Thomas, "My Lord and my God!" and to offer ourselves to God as instruments of God's healing love.