Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” (Jn. 20:25)
Of all the words that ever came out of Thomas’ mouth in his lifetime, these surely must be the ones he most heartily regretted. The most obvious reason for his regret is the sorrow he would have experienced over his disbelief. But there is another reason, were it not for his unquestionable humility, that Thomas would have sorely regretted his expressed disbelief: since the day of his proclamation, Thomas has forever been dubbed “Doubter.”
Although Scripture offers scant information about the life of Thomas (other than the fact that he was chosen as one of the Twelve), we do hear one other story about this Apostle—a story that speaks volumes about his character . . . and it has nothing to do with his struggle with doubt. In this passage, we see quite another side to Thomas:
The disciples said to [Jesus], “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” . . . Thomas, called Didymus, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go to die with him.” (Jn. 11:8,16)
Thomas was the only disciple among the Twelve who was willing to follow Jesus wherever He led when His friend Lazarus died—even though Thomas believed that Jesus was leading them all to certain death. That is how sure Thomas was that Jesus had “the words of eternal life,” and how convinced he was that Jesus was “the Holy One of God” (Jn. 6:68-69). And yet, Thomas is not remembered as “Faithful Thomas,” “Trusting Thomas,” or even “Courageous Thomas.” For his one recorded moment of weakness, “Doubting” is the only name that comes to mind when one thinks of Thomas.
We have all been there, haven’t we? Years ago, I had a friend whom I confided in; I found out later that she shared the information I had entrusted to her with someone else . . . and it ended up causing a problem for me. I was angry and let down by what felt like a betrayal, and even though I forgave her, I knew I would never trust her with confidentialities again. There was no malice involved; looking back, I can see how she thought she was doing the right thing. Still, for this one perceived “betrayal” of our friendship, I could never shake the reputation that was created in my mind that this person was my “Gossiping Friend.”
Of course, when it comes to ourselves, we desperately want others to erase from their minds our own moments of weakness we regret. One time, an acquaintance from my parish called me for a favor, and I made an assumption about the reason she was asking—an assumption that was wildly unfair. I had made presumptions about her based on the reasons that I personally would have asked for such a favor! I had projected my less-than-pure motives onto this poor soul. Two seconds after the words came out of my mouth in response to her request, I realized how obviously ridiculous—and offensive—they must have sounded, and I tried to take back what I had said in a futile attempt to “change” my answer. Mercifully, in my case, the woman just smiled and remained courteous, and I prayed that she would dismiss my overreactive response to her harmless question. But the truth is, I’ll never know if after all these years, because of this one lapse in judgement, I became known to her from that day forth as the “Irrational Parishioner.”
Now the thing about our “Doubting Thomas” is that while it is true that he is known to the world for his weakest moment, in the spiritual life, that is not a bad thing. In our temporal lives, our mistakes can cause problems for others and even rifts in our relationships, not to mention embarrassment and shame to ourselves; but in the spiritual life, our mistakes are precisely what make us relatable to others who share the same human condition, who can see themselves in our mistakes. Most importantly, our mistakes are what teach us to grow.
For me, the memory of how awful I felt after responding to the woman so brusquely still makes me cringe. It is enough to make me determined to refrain from judging the motivations of others so rashly ever again. Have I done this to perfection? Absolutely not. But I am certain the sting of this relatively minor lapse in judgement must surely have prevented the bitter regret that would inevitably have come from a far more serious lapse. I am a work in progress, being “built” into a suitable dwelling place for the Spirit. And that is okay, because this is precisely what our lives on earth are meant to do!
It was no different for any of the Apostles—Thomas, Matthew, Peter, James, and John—who all made highly regrettable mistakes, mistakes that made them cringe too. But it is precisely their mistakes that make them so relatable to the rest of us now—and thus give us hope. Great hope! Because if Jesus could love them exactly as they were and transform them into the amazing saints that they would later become—not despite their weakness, but precisely because of them—then surely, He can do the same for us too.
Therefore I am content with weaknesses . . . for when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:10)
In the end, while it is indeed true that Thomas is remembered for his doubt, he is also remembered for the words which his doubt led him to proclaim. They are the same words we proclaim at every Mass, each time the Body of Christ is held high in the hands of His priests for our eyes to behold! It is Thomas we have to thank for the words that extinguished his doubt—the same words he passed onto us to extinguish our own:
My Lord and my God! (Jn. 20:28)
St. Thomas the Apostle, pray for us.
Author’s Note: Excerpt from: The Safe Haven: Scriptural Reflections for the Heart and Home (Ordinary Time Weeks 8-14). To purchase, visit Amazon or The Catholic Company, where all other volumes currently in print are also available.
Image from Meisterdrucke
