Like John, Thomas is a committed follower of Jesus. Like Mary, he is fully devoted to the cause. But don’t tell Thomas that the eternal Sabbath is here. Don’t suggest to him he is already in Paradise. Don’t tell him time and space are reconfigured. Don’t tell him it is Easter, the Eighth Day, Paradise. Unbelieving Thomas, he won’t have any of it. People don’t rise from the dead. But then Jesus shows up—“eight days later,” John tells us. Again, the reminder: It is the Eighth Day, the eternal Sabbath. 

Faith entails at least two things. First, it means to follow. John, the beloved disciple, looked into the tomb, saw the linen cloths, and believed (John 20:8). To believe is to follow John to the tomb.

Second, it means to love. Mary Magdalene, the Shulammite, the New Eve, heard Jesus’s voice and saw his face. She loves Jesus; she holds on to Jesus (20:17). To believe is to love Jesus and to hold on to him.

John and Mary are models of faith. But does the third vignette in John 20—Doubting Thomas—also offer a model of faith? In fact, to call him Doubting Thomas is unduly generous. He doesn’t even doubt. “We have seen the Lord,” the other disciples insist. Thomas’s response? “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” (20:25).

When Jesus does, in fact, show up, he tells Thomas, “Do not disbelieve, but believe” (20:27). The contrast is clear: Thomas is an unbeliever, and he needs to become a believer. He mentions the marks of the nails in Jesus’s hands and of the spear in his side not because he doubts but because he is convinced the whole idea is ridiculous. It’s like he is saying, “Imagine the absurdity of me putting my finger in his nail marks and my hand in his side. . . . I’ll believe it when it happens.” In other words, when hell freezes over.

Thomas’s unbelief is hardly out of character. When Lazarus dies, Jesus plans to travel south, to Bethany, near Jerusalem. His disciples don’t want him to go; they fear for his life. Thomas the Twin, in particular, puts up a protest. He says to his fellow disciples, “Let us go also, that we may die with him” (11:16). Thomas knows that to travel south is to go on a suicide mission. But if it has to be, then let’s go with him, so we may die with him. Thomas is a down-to-earth, dour character. He knows what it means to get yourself killed. And he knows, too, that death means the end.

In the Upper Room, Jesus tells the disciples that he is going to his Father’s house. It has many mansions, and he will prepare each of them a place. “You may be there with me; you know the way,” he says (14:4). To Thomas, this is pie-in-the-sky nonsense. “Lord,” Thomas calls out in frustration, “we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” (14:5). Thomas calls Jesus back to earth.

For Thomas, only one thing will do: empirical evidence. Sometimes Jesus just needs to be called back to reality: Travelling south means getting yourself killed; there’s no road connecting to mansions in heaven. Let’s stick with the facts.

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