A FEAST OF DOUBT

I have written about doubt before, as it is the permanent guest at a believer’s table. Today is the feast of Thomas Didymus, the solitary twin, whom we all envy even though it was he who was told to envy us. In what tone of voice, we may wonder, did he express his scepticism at the other disciples’ story? Was it a sneer of ‘Oh, sure: tell it to the Marines’? Or was it the dull, defeated voice of one who so desperately wanted to be sure but whose only certainty was that he would be disappointed again? Either way, he was heard. And the man who turned up was the same simple, smiling figure we saw on the beach at dawn with grilled fish. (There he is, in the Rembrandt sketch, above.) The Jesus who appears between resurrection and ascension is rather a comforting man, concerned to show that he is not a ghost, not an apparition: here, have some fish; here, touch me, go on, I’m real. And Thomas is appropriately stunned, stunned and infinitely relieved, and full of wonder. Having seen, and heard, and touched, he goes from one extreme to the other. My Lord and my God. Not just Master, or Rabbouni, but all the way. And again, a simple smile in reply. OK, now you believe, because you’ve seen. But think of all those people to come: they’re going to have to believe without having your luck, and a surprising number of them will manage it. Think about it, Tom.

So today is the Feast of Doubt, one we can all celebrate wholeheartedly. Of course we who live after the Ascension, have the third Person of the Trinity with us, whether we know it, or think about it, or not. And He is the one who en principe, as the French say, allows us to believe without seeing and touching. The good thing about doubt is that it shows one is at least concerned with the matter. When Thomas said what he said, he clearly cared. And when you are concerned with the matter, you are open to that third Person’s turning up. He won’t turn up with touchable skin and wounds; but turn up He will.

And of course, we are not left entirely without seeing and touching. Hoc est corpus meum. Is it Thomas who is to be envied, or is it we?

INCREDIBLE!

So what about the Resurrection? There can't be many people in our Western culture who haven't heard of it. Most, these days, don't think about it and would say, if pressed, they don't believe a word of it. Those of us who claim to be members of the Christian faith, however, can't get out of it. We have to face up it; and I sometimes wonder how many of us actually really and truly believe it happened -- not as a symbol, not as a myth, not as a legend, not as an archetype, but as a real happening in a world where two astonished, dumbfounded women get to touch, with their own hands, the hands and feet of the Risen One. A world where the fishermen, sad, defeated, but getting on with the job, come back from a night catch and see a little fire on the beach with fish grilling on it and a real, solid Person sitting next to it and saying "Come and have a bite of breakfast!"

How many of us, even as we say the words of the Creed, in our heart of hearts really believe that in that simple, vast, unimaginable way, it happened? And then, the corollary: how many of us, especially those not fundamentalist evangelicals, can genuinely get our minds around the idea that when we come to our last moment on this earth we will not just wink out? And that this is because of what happened during that one real and actual night in the year -- well, 33 or 29 or so?

I grew up in an atmosphere, a culture, where when religion was discussed this sort of question was avoided. Some people were ready to say that they thought there might be "something" after death, but most just didn't want to talk about it much. Later, in Canada, I belonged for a few years to an Anglican Church where the Rector, though a fine and buoyant man, I'm sure did not believe in the Resurrection.

And yet St Paul says, "If Christ did not rise [from the dead], what we preach is worthless and your faith is worthless."(1 Cor. 15:14) That is strong stuff. I'm not sure I know anyone who has no problem with this; if I did, that would be someone I'd worry about.

Today is the day we celebrate the Resurrection -- His, and ours. I think we ought to do it thoroughly. After all, one of the Inklings, C.S. Lewis or Tolkien, once wrote that if you act as if you believe long enough, you're likely to  end up believing. And if the little worm of doubt still raises its deformed snout in us, we can truly say -- as we go on celebrating -- "Lord, I believe: help thou mine unbelief."