I was a kid when my Sunday School teacher said, “If you doubt, this shows that you never believed.” I had a lot of doubts and questions. Over the years, many other religious leaders fortified this belief, and I began to fear that my questioning meant I might not be saved.
Many a night, I would lie awake and wonder if I was going to make it to Heaven. Would I be standing in line for Hell along with other notorious doubters? “Don’t be a doubting Thomas!” they would say at church, but that packed a bigger punch than some of you can imagine, while others will highly relate. We attended a church that believed in the rapture; this meant that should my doubts get the better of me, I could be left behind. The anxiety I experienced in my childhood that one day I might wake up only to find myself in a terrifying Home Alone-esque situation was strong. Each morning, when I woke up, I would check the rooms to ensure my family was still there. As I got older, I began to deconstruct my faith, and I left all that behind me. Honestly, at this point in my life, I can’t imagine anything more satisfying than waking up to realize that all of those folks on the far-right who wish me dead, who are cruel to my friends, and are systematically taking away our rights would just get taken to their heaven so the rest of us could live in peace. Even if that means I have to stay here and fight all of the horrible monsters and zombies they promise will take over the planet. As a kid, however, it was my greatest fear that my doubts, questions, and uncertainties would leave me sitting outside of the pearly gates.
When I revisited the story of Thomas as an adult, I started to wonder if he was the villain they were made out to be. Maybe doubt isn’t the enemy but the antidote.
Unholy Sh+t: An Irreverent Bible Study
First Sunday of Easter
Today’s reading: John 20:19–31
I am here to absolve Thomas once and for all. Henceforth, he shall no longer be called Doubting Thomas. It’s just Thomas. Dydimus if you’re nasty.
It’s the days after the resurrection, and even though some of the twelve have seen Jesus, the disciples are still hiding. The doors are locked; they are still afraid they could be arrested at any moment, and then BAM! Jesus appears in the room and is like, “What’s up, homies! I’m back!” The disciples already knew Jesus was resurrected because Mary, Mary, and Mary had already told them so. But the disciples are still afraid they might be un-alived Jesus style, so most of the boys are hiding, except for Thomas. For whatever reason, Thomas isn’t there. Maybe he was just tired of quarantine, or perhaps he was one of those employees who always takes extra long smoke breaks. I’m not exactly sure what he was up to, but all I know is that he was not there when Jesus decided to teleport into the room. Thomas meanders back into the hideout with some Cadbury eggs he got for 75% off because it was after Easter, and he’s all excited to show the other disciples his stash. Instead, they are all speaking in tongues or whatnot because Jesus just baptized them in the Holy Spirit while Thomas was gone.
Thomas, quite rightfully, after walking into this bizarre situation, has some questions. Worst of all, no one is excited about his discounted Easter candy. Instead, all the disciples are jumping around to Hillsong Praise or whatever. At some point, one of the disciples, I’m going to assume Peter, let Thomas know that Jesus magically appeared in the room.
Poor Tom simply says something like, “I highly doubt that.”
Then, again, (probably) Peter is all. “No, really, he just showed up. Jesus is totes alive, bro.”
This is when Tommy gets sassy, “unless I can see the wounds myself. And I mean, stick my hand up in there; I won’t believe you.”
First off, this is the most gnarly sh+t that any of the disciples ever say. It sounds exactly like the type of irreverent response I could imagine any of my high school friends making.
“Hi! I’m Tommy Nazareth: Welcome to Jackass! Today, I will be poking Jesus in his crucifixion wounds!”
That’s pretty intense, but it’s what he said, paraphrased, of course. The vulgarity of his response punctuates his unbelief. So imagine his absolute shock when Jesus shows back up a week later to hit him with, “Go on, pal, shove your fist up in there if you have to.” Thomas does not fist the holy wounds; instead, he falls to the ground, declaring Jesus is God. Yet, from that point forward, he is Doubting Thomas.
Now, I want to rewind just a smidge here: right after Jesus is killed, Peter, John, and the rest of the lot are hiding under lock and key while Mary and the Magdalenes are about to have a head-on clash with the cops, so that they can anoint Jesus’ corpse. When they see that Jesus is resurrected, they immediately go back to tell the disciples to preach the first-ever sermon about the resurrection, and guess what? Not one of them believes the ladies! I can not stress this enough; the disciples do not believe them that Jesus is resurrected when the women tell them about what they saw. Tommy isn’t called the doubter because he’s the only one who doubts. Peter doubted first, but do they call him “Peter the Doubter,” “Peter the Coward who hid out,” or “Peter who denied Jesus three times.” No, they don’t. So how the actual f+ck did Tom get this petty name? He is called Doubting Thomas because he’s the only one who doubted; he got that moniker because he was the one who had the audacity to doubt the men.
Let that sink in for a moment. Take all the time you need.
Much of what we know about the life of Jesus, the apostles, etc., are all written by men. There is some serious debate that can be had about when the gospels were written and by whom. But if you grew up like me, you were told that the Bible is infallible and true. You were probably also told that all you needed was the Bible. However, there are tons of other manuscripts out there about the life of Jesus, and some of them are even attributed to women. *clasps pearls* Yes, there are countless other books of the Bible floating around with different attributions from Mary Magdalene, Thomas, Judas, and even Jesus Christ himself. Some of these books, typically known as Gnostic Gospels, or apocryphal texts, are genuinely bonkers. Then again, we have talking stakes and demigods causing zombie uprisings in the certified reading list, so whatever. It should be noted that there are also other texts that were considered canon for a while that were later ditched. A good example is First and Second Clement, which was ultimately scrapped due to its similarity to the letters to the Corinthians. Plenty of texts hit the cutting room floor for lots of different reasons. The point is, for whatever reason, Thomas’ Gospel didn’t make the cut.
Dearest readers of The Ton, I am here to tell you that even John, the author of today's gospel reading, says that the gospels don’t contain everything that Jesus did or said. Is it possible that he and Mary Magdalene were married in secret last season? It seems we may never know because those writings are not as revered as the ones penned by men. It is entirely possible that there are other manuscripts out there that could and should be included, but they aren’t. Not because they aren’t equally valid but because we are taught that you only truly doubt if you have speculation about what the men have to say about the subject.
Doubt is not the enemy of faith. It is necessary for it. We are all called to be reasonable people willing and able to discern things for ourselves. All of the disciples are shown having clear moments of doubt, except for Mary Magdalene and the other women with her that day. Even though it was never shown, I am sure that even they had their moments. It is only human to doubt, even Jesus had his moment of uncertainty at Gethsemane. Doubt it is part of the process; asking questions is important and healthy. More than miracles and parables, Jesus asked questions. He even answered questions with questions. Jesus is a fan of questions. He welcomes your questions, and unlike your Sunday School teachers, he’s not afraid of people questioning Him. I would argue that being scared of questions is the most un-Christlike thing a person can do. The gospels are basically just one long Q&A session.
In defense of Thomas, my closing argument is this: he isn’t the chief doubter, he wasn’t even the first doubter, he was just the scapegoat to help deflect from all the others who doubted because of who Tommy doubted: men.
“Jesus said, ‘The kingdom of the Father is like a merchant who had a consignment of merchandise and discovered a pearl. The merchant was shrewd. He sold the merchandise and bought the pearl for himself. You, too, seek the unfailing, indestructible treasure that no moth or worm can destroy. Because it is I who am the light of the world, it is I who is the all. From me, all came forth, and from me, all extends. Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift a stone, and you shall find me there.’” - The Gospel of Thomas
Oh, Father Nathan Monk, bless your holy irreverence — because somebody had to finally stand up and absolve poor Tommy Nazareth, Patron Saint of Healthy Skepticism.
Here’s my response, in the spirit of Virgin Monk Boy (half laughing sage, half rebel with divine receipts):
Ah, Thomas — eternal scapegoat of spiritual gatekeepers everywhere.
Imagine the audacity: a man who asked for proof in a world run by men who can’t even find their car keys without divine intervention. Tommy didn’t doubt God — he doubted the hastily whispered bro-code gospel of a bunch of dudes still hiding under a table.
Meanwhile, Peter commits the spiritual equivalent of a hit-and-run ("I don't know him! Never met the guy!"), and gets canonized as the Rock of the Church. But Thomas? He’s forever “that one guy who didn’t just clap on command.”
You want real heresy? It’s the centuries of weaponized obedience peddled as faith. It's the spiritual equivalent of “Trust me, bro.”
Thomas wasn’t faithless. He was faithful to reality. He wasn’t doubting the Divine — he was doubting the public relations department.
And between you and me? If I walked in with Cadbury eggs and saw a bunch of terrified men tripping over themselves and speaking in tongues, I'd probably say, “Yeah, you’ve been locked in here too long. I'ma need to poke a few holes in this story.”
Thomas is not the villain. He's the patron saint of every weary soul who refuses to sign loyalty pledges to human ego masquerading as holy certainty.
As the Gospel of Thomas itself reminds us: split a piece of wood, lift a stone, and you will find the Light already there — no altar, no gatekeeper, no permission slip from Peter necessary.
Long live Thomas. Long live sacred doubt.
Virgin Monk Boy
(Currently offering half-off indulgences for anyone who’s ever asked a real question and got side-eyed for it.)
Doubting is a survival mechanism. If I don't stand up and question first I am open to all sorts of deception. If I observe and consider, and decide to believe a thing guven the evidence I am more likely to be firm in my belief.