NOTES for Joh 20:19-31

What, after all, is this question of Thomas? Distrust? A desire to see everything with his own eyes? Or a kind of prudence, proceeding from the fact that spiritual life cannot be built on someone else's experience, even if that experience is connected with people whom you trust completely? And in such a context, what do Jesus's words mean about those who believed without seeing what Thomas saw?

Of course, it would be easiest to stop at the version of distrust, as many people do: Thomas's faith, they say, turned out to be the weakest; he needed proof, but Jesus is glad for any faith, and therefore allows Thomas to be convinced of His reality in the way that seems adequate to him.

But is everything so simple? After all, when it comes to spiritual life, we really can rely only on our own experience. Spiritual life, like life in general, belongs to each person in his own way, and however remarkable the experience of someone else's life may be, it cannot replace our own. This applies fully to spiritual life. And Thomas, refusing to take the other apostles at their word, is most of all proceeding from this very thing. He wants to see and experience for himself what the others saw, without relying only on their stories.

But what, then, does Jesus have in mind? Does He have in mind the other apostles? Hardly, since by that time all of them had already seen Him, while only Thomas was being asked to believe others at their word. About whom, then, is the Savior speaking? About those who will believe later? But people always become Christians in the true sense only after living through that personal encounter with the Risen One without which one can speak of Christianity only conditionally. How, then, can one believe "without seeing"? Evidently, only through the testimony of those whose witness reveals the life of the Kingdom brought into the world by Jesus. Such testimony can become the beginning of a spiritual path, although, of course, if the one who has begun it is consistent, a personal meeting with the risen Jesus will take place sooner or later in his life as well.

And Jesus, of course, understands that the Church remains the Church only as long as it is capable of such witness. And He calls blessed those who will have to enter this true Church.

How did the apostles understand the resurrection? It is hard to say exactly. Of course, like all their fellow believers, they knew that resurrection meant the dead returning to life. But what would this life be like? After all, some kind of life went on in Sheol too. Though calling it life was still a stretch. Rather, it was a kind of likeness, a shadow of real life. And what would the life of the resurrected be like? Whom would they resemble: people, or shadows that had come out of the tombs, or straight out of Sheol?

The appearance of the risen Jesus in the room where the disciples had gathered gives the answer to this question. He stands before them as a human being. In a transformed body, but precisely a human one. Not as a ghost or a shadow. He is so fully human that even after the transformation His body still bears the marks of the sufferings He endured. Resurrection is not a likeness of former life and not some immortality of the soul existing apart from the body. Here is all life in all its fullness. The life of the Kingdom.

And the risen Jesus immediately shares this life with the disciples. He says to them: receive the Holy Spirit. God's breath. The breath of the Kingdom. The very breath that was to enter the world on the day of Pentecost. Jesus gives it to His disciples already now. He lets them feel what this breath is like. The breath with which they will now have to live. And which will make them themselves part of the Kingdom. Here, of course, there is not yet the fullness of entry that became reality on the day of Pentecost. Here there is only the first contact with the Kingdom. But whoever has touched it once will never be the same again.

Even the relationships of the one who has touched it with other people change: all relationships now become part of the Kingdom. A forgiven sin is now forgiven once and for all; it no longer darkens the relationships of those it touched. In the Kingdom everything that is done is done forever and completely. But refusal to forgive a sin also turns out to be something absolute and irreversible, because in the Kingdom refusal is just as unambiguous, full, and final as forgiveness. Forgiving a neighbor's sin opens the road into the Kingdom; refusal closes it, because unforgiven and unrepented sin is incompatible with the life of the Kingdom. Having let the disciples feel the fullness of the Kingdom, Jesus at the same time lets them feel their responsibility for this fullness. And this is understandable: one does not exist without the other.

The first thing that comes to mind about Thomas is that he is a person like many of us, combining faith with little faith. But Thomas differs from us in this: although he was nicknamed unbelieving, he nevertheless possessed far greater faith than many of us who would like to compare our excessive rational skepticism, which eats away at the soul, with Thomas's desire to find firm foundations for faith. Let us not forget that Thomas was ready to follow the Teacher to the end, and he proved this by his whole life. But what is true is true: it was hard for him to trust immediately any news he heard; he wanted confirmation and proof.

There is truth in such caution: how many rumors there are about "spiritual manifestations" produced by a game of telephone or by hallucinations, or even coming from a poisoned source. Christ, by the way, did not reject Thomas's desire to be convinced through personal verification, and He gave him that opportunity.

There are iconographic depictions in which Thomas literally puts his finger into Christ's wound, but the Gospel text does not say that he used the opportunity given to him. It tells something else: immediately after Christ invited him to put his hand into His side, Thomas confessed Him as his Lord and God. Christ did not count Thomas's doubts as sin.

No doubts, not one difficult question, will in the end remain without God's answer. Only let doubts not become a pretext for the self-assertion of a proud sophist, who, like Pilate, rejects the possibility of knowing the truth, but instead arise from a conscientious desire to overcome the difficulties on the way to it.

This verse is often mentioned when disputes begin about what it was like for those who saw the Passion of Christ. It is usually perceived as consolation for us, who did not see the living Christ: we did not see, but still believe, though our faith has fewer grounds than the faith of the apostles who saw the incarnate living God.

One does not need to see in order, after reading the descriptions of the Passion in all their vividness, to understand that the death of Jesus was tormenting and terrible. And then "blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" means something quite different. We are "blessed" not because the faith of those who did not see makes them saints at once. We are blessed, that is, happy, because we did not see the Crucifixion. It is easier for us to believe that Christ is risen, since we did not see His death, did not see how real it was. We can in fact never fully realize that our God was a corpse, that there was no more hope at all. Holy Week in our life is still already illumined by the light of the coming Resurrection, and this is our happiness, our blessedness.

This does not mean that we should not try to experience the pain of the Crucifixion as deeply as possible. Some saints are given to experience it with almost the same force with which the Mother of God experienced it; some are given stigmata. But they are also given faith such that no pain can obscure faith in the Resurrection.