First he hung up a sign, Marvolo, the greatest tight rope walker ever. Then he strung a wire across Niagara Falls. A crowd gathered and he asked if they thought he could walk across the falls. The crowd was skeptical – too windy, too wet, too scary. He hopped on the wire and over and back lickety-split. The crowd applauded in appreciation. He grabbed a wheel-barrow and asked if they thought he could push it across the falls. The crowd was uncertain so he picked up the wheel-barrow and pushed it over and back lickety-split. The crowd roared its approval. Then he put a two hundred pound sack of cement into the wheel-barrow. How about now? He asked. Some on the crowd were on his side now but others were dubious. The walker wrestled the wheel-barrow with the cement on the wire and over and back lickety-split. The crowd went wild. You can do anything on that wire, they shouted. Do you believe that, he asked. Oh yes, you are the greatest tight rope walker ever. Okay, he said dumping the cement out of the wheel-barrow, hop in.
There’s faith and there’s faith. You can believe that is a nice, strong rope but you really have to believe it when you are hanging on for dear life like Indiana Jones over a snake pit. Thomas in the gospel story gets a bad rap as a doubter. But doubt is not a bad thing. Doubt is, in fact, a building block of faith. If you think about it the opposite of faith is not doubt, it is certitude. You don’t need to believe in gravity for the apple you drop to hit the floor. You don’t need to believe that two plus two equals four – you can count that on your fingers. You don’t need to believe that eating the entire box of twelve sugar glazed donuts with sprinkles on top is bad for you – your stomach will tell you all on its own. But there are things which we do need to believe in, which have an element of doubt woven into them. On their wedding day a couple publicly proclaims their belief in the love and fidelity of their spouse – but there is no certainty in that. When a new parent holds their child in their arms they believe that they have what it takes to raise a happy and healthy family – but no certainty there. When the White Sox take the field you believe that one day, one year, sometime this century they will win another pennant – but there is assuredly no certainty there. In fact, the most important things in life don’t come with certainty but are constructed with layers of doubt. To believe always entails a degree of risk.
Which brings us back to St. Thomas. The Gospels suggest he was no coward – after all, while the other ten were cowering behind locked doors he had the gumption to go out and run to the store for some toothpaste or whatever which caused him to miss the big reveal the first Easter evening. It is understandable that he has his doubts about his companions’ report of the Risen Jesus. What is interesting is how he was going to confront his doubts – by touching the wounds. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” He wasn’t going to ask Jesus to multiply the loaves and fish or walk across the swimming pool or calm the storm. He didn’t want any kind of angelic witness. No, to resolve his doubt he needed to touch the wounds, to recognize in Jesus the human condition of being mortally wounded. He wasn’t looking for some manifestation of divine power. He was, instead, seeking to find a connection with Jesus at the most basic level that let him know we’re all in this together with Jesus.
What if Thomas was onto something? What if the real way to recognize the Risen Jesus in our midst is by touching wounds? As a Church we have a chance to touch the social wounds that are out there. We are touching the wounded body of Christ when we operate the food pantry. Jesus told us that whatsoever we do to the least we are doing to him. By feeding the hungry we are touching the wounded Christ. Our willingness to confront the racism endemic in our culture provides another opportunity to touch a wound. Since racism is a direct assault on the dignity of the human person made in the image and likeness of God it causes a deep and abiding wound. When Pope Francis challenges us to confront the suffering of immigrants and refugees or denounces the war that rages in Ukraine he is not playing politics but touching the wounds of the body of Christ, head and members.
Since Christ is the head of the body and we are the members, there are other, more personal wounds that we can name. In fact, my guess is that everyone here has a wound that causes them to limp along the road of life. The things that have wounded us are many: divorce, neglect, abuse, abandonment, poverty, prejudice, trauma, addiction, sickness, loss, grief, guilt, shame – just to name a few. Like a bird with a broken wing these wounds, many of them years in the making, inhibit our ability to soar. If Thomas is right and touching wounds is the way to recognize Jesus then we, as Church, can only become an Easter people by recognizing our wounded condition and being the field hospital Pope Francis has called for. That tells us that we need to lean on each other as we make our way toward the kingdom of God. The Church isn’t divided up into the helpers and the helped. We all need help and we all can help. Our wounds are what connect us with one another. Like Thomas we might have our doubts about what we can do, about how we make a difference about the meaning of life. But our wounds don’t define us. They are what God uses so that the likes of us can bring Risen Life and Easter Joy into the world.
