So That You Might Believe

“Now Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came” (John 20:24). Thomas was not at the first encounter the disciples had with Jesus after the resurrection. And he is often remembered for his doubt and then touching the Jesus’ wounds in order to believe. While reflecting on Thomas’ story this week, I realized that Thomas is quoted several times in the Gospel of John, and in each instance, it is in regards to following Christ.

First is just after the death of Lazarus. When Jesus wants to return to Bethany, the disciples don’t want to go. There were leaders there who wanted to stone Jesus for blasphemy; it was dangerous. “Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.’ Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him’” (John 11:14-16).

Thomas doesn’t understand that Jesus is going to raise Lazarus from the dead. But he does know that Jesus is doing something for them, for their faith. And if Jesus is going to Bethany, Thomas wants to go too, even if it means risking his life.

Then, at the Last Supper, Jesus talks about the betrayal and death that is to come. But he also offers words of comfort: “‘Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me…. I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way 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; no one comes to the Father, but by me” (John 14: 1, 3-6).

Thomas comes off as logical, but not doubting. He doesn’t follow blindly. He wants clarification, explanation. But he is not looking for loopholes or a way out; he wants to follow Christ. He just wants to understand.

Finally, after the resurrection, Christ appears and speaks to the disciples, who are in hiding. But Thomas isn’t there. Maybe he was the one brave enough to go out and get food. Maybe he was out looking for answers after a horrific week. “So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe’” (John 20:25).

Eight days later, Thomas does see Jesus. “Then [Jesus] said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side; do not be faithless, but believing.’ 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 believe’” (John 20:27-29).

Jesus lets Thomas touch the wounds so that he can believe. And Thomas immediately recognizes Christ, not just as his friend and leader Jesus, but as God.

Thomas gets the bad rap of being “doubting.” He was the only one not in the room when Jesus first appeared to the apostles after the resurrection. Who’s to say what any other apostle would have done in his position? It’s an incredible claim. The others had seen Christ themselves; Thomas was asked to believe on their testimony alone. Thomas doubts, but Christ gives him the evidence to believe that he asks for. And once provided with the presence of Christ and touching his wounds, Thomas does believe.

Most of us don’t get such tangible, concrete assurance. We are asked to believe on testimony. Where Thomas doubted, we are asked to believe. It doesn’t seem fair that Thomas was left out the first time, and it doesn’t seem fair that we can’t have such tangible evidence now. But even though he had a moment of doubt concerning an unprecedented, cosmic miracle, Thomas was a faithful believer. When Jesus calls for belief, Thomas is right there, seeking understanding but ready to go. He loved Jesus and wanted to follow him, even when it was dangerous or confusing. His is a faith worth emulating.

Monday Motivation: He's Alive!

Celebrating Easter with Miss Dolly

10 Years

Liturgically, today is my 10th anniversary in the Catholic Church. When I try to reflect on that significance in some way, however, I come up short. I’ve grown a lot in my spirituality over the past decade. I’ve increased my knowledge and embraced that that knowledge doesn’t equal faith. I’ve had mystical experiences. I’ve experienced consolation and desolation and tried to separate my own melancholia from it. I’m more biblically literate, have more connection to some saints, and am more confident in where I stand.

And yet there is still so much uncertainty. I still feel like I’ve turned from generations of Protestant family. I’m frustrated by several aspects of Catholic culture. I still wrestle with some doctrine.

More than anything, I still struggle with why. Why I was called to the Church. Why I feel God’s presence so clearly when others don’t. Why it’s so difficult to find someone—friends, spiritual advisor—who understands where I’m at and help me on my journey. Why so much of my growth happens alone.

Ultimately, I know the why is unimportant. Getting weighed down by that now will do nothing. And perhaps I can know later.

I can’t say where I’ll be in another 10 years. I only hope that I’ll still be growing. I never want to be so confident that I’ve figured it all out that I grow stagnant in my faith. It is called a journey for a reason; the destination isn’t reached in this life.

Still, after all this time, I find that I most relate to T.S. Eliot’s description, “a Catholic cast of mind, a Calvinist heritage, and a Puritanical temperament.”

In Politics, Everyone Has a Price

Spy Wednesday marks the day that Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus, setting forth the motions that would lead to Jesus’ crucifixion. The name Iscariot possibly comes from the Latin sicarius, meaning “murderer” or “assassin.” There was later a splinter group of the Zealots called Sicarii who opposed Roman occupation. Some carried knives and attacked Romans and Roman sympathizers. Their terrorism increased in the decades preceding the destruction of Jerusalem in 70. The Sicarri rose after Judas’ time, but he would have been around during the same growing political tension that led to them. There was increasing frustration with Roman occupation and more and more Jewish men were becoming radicalized, willing to violently resist.

It is possible that Judas was more devoted to politics than religion. He may have been a nationalist who wanted the Messiah to come, not to save the people of Israel but to defeat the Romans and give Israel political power. As Jesus’ ministry continued but preached more about the kingdom of heaven than the overthrow of worldly empire, Judas could have grown resentful. Anyone not committed to his political vision was the enemy.

Judas’ politics is speculative, but it’s plausible. Mixing politics and religion, and further placing politics over religion, is a recipe for disaster. Winning becomes more important than truth. Power becomes more important than good. Jesus did not come to be a nationalist hero. A national dagger-man, lost in his myopic ambitions, could not see the Messiah, even when he was right in front of him, offering him the bread of life.

It’s a dire warning to us all to not place our hopes in worldly politics. Politics matter and affect our lives. But they are not more important than our souls. And when we combine politics and religion, religion will get twisted by the selfish, cut-throat aims of politics. There are so many who wrap their politics in religious-language; they think they are godly for their zealous politics. In reality, they have made an idol of their politics, a worldly, distorted faith that is far from the message of Christ.

What we do know about Judas is that he was tainted by greed. He stole from the collective purse. He chided Jesus for letting Mary anoint him with oil—and while he claimed that the money could have gone to the poor, it was clear he wanted the money back in the treasury, where he would have control over it. Finally, he sold Jesus out for 30 pieces of silver. It was not a lot, and it showed how little the chief priests’ and Judas valued Jesus. But it was a significant amount in another way: under the Law, a slave was 30 shekels of silver (Exodus 21:32).

When the prophet Zechariah grew impatient with the people, he broke his staff and said, “If it seems right to you, give me my wages; but if not, keep them.” They give him 30 shekels of silver, the price of a slave. Then “the Lord said to me, ‘Cast it into the treasury’—the lordly price at which I was paid off by them. So I took the thirty shekels of silver and cast them into the treasury in the house of the Lord. Then I broke my second staff Union, annulling the brotherhood between Judah and Israel” (Zechariah 11: 12-14).

Judas, after regretting his actions, tries to return the money to the chief priests, thus, cast it into the treasury. Yet, the priests know it is not lawful to put blood money in the treasury and use the money to buy a potter’s field. “Then was fulfilled what had been spoken by the prophet Jeremiah, saying, ‘And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him on whom a price had been set by some of the sons of Israel, and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord directed me’” (Matthew 27: 9-10).

The priests and Judas didn’t like Jesus, further, they didn’t value him. His life was worth the price of the slave. Jesus, rather, knew the dignity of each person could not be measured by shekels. He willingly knelt down as a servant before his apostles and taught them how to be servants, not the type of men who buy them.

Power and money drives so much evil in the world. And that is nothing new. Judas is a warning. Whether it was radical nationalism or pure financial gain, he let selfishness drive him to betrayal and his own demise.

Helping Jesus with Miracles

When Jesus fed the 5,000, it was a miracle. He used a small child with two fish and five loafs of bread to feed a multitude. It was a prefigurement of the Eucharist. It was also meeting the basic needs of hungry people. But then I heard a woman refer to the boy with the bread as “the boy who helped Jesus carry out his miracle.” He wasn’t used. He was more than a vessel or an unaware participant. He did what he could to help. He offered his small meal and trusted that Jesus would make use of those resources.

We often think of Jesus’ miracles as a supernatural action outside of what’s going on around him. His power alone. And while miracles are supernatural, they are not totally separate from the natural world, influenced by time and place and people. And people can choose whether to help or not. The boy offered up his meal. The servants filled the water jars at the wedding in Cana. Peter, James, and John put out their nets. The blind man went and washed the mud from his eyes.

Jesus had people help carry out his miracles. They performed practical actions, ordinary tasks. But they did them out of obedience, trust, and love. It was something they had each done several times before. But this time was different. It was for Jesus. And whether they realized it or not, it helped Jesus in a miracle that would be remembered for generations.

We have more control than we think. We have more power than we think. Our practical, ordinary actions can have more meaning and further consequences than we realize. Jesus wants us to help, not just receive. Jesus needs our help. We are called to do the work, daily. I don't want to just be a vessel, an instrument used for miracles; I want to be a holy helper.