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Less Faith

What would it mean to confess a Thomasian Creed?

by Mark Stenberg

Gospel Reading: John 20:19–31

For Sunday, April 7, 2013: Year C—Easter 2

Imagine, with me, that particular moment. What was happening during that moment in human history when Thomas confessed his un-faith: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe?”

Was he in danger? Was his faith revoked, nullified? Was he abandoned by God? Was his name stricken from the Book of Life?

Thomas the Scapegoat

“Doubting Thomas.”  His name lives in infamy, the subject of scorn and shame.

We’ve even invited our children to ridicule him for his unbelief in a Bible song from the mid-20th century boom era of the church, a chorus in which young children delightedly wagged their fingers in shame at that naughty doubter Thomas: “Don’t be a doubting Thomas, rest fully on God’s promise, why worry, worry, worry, worry, when you can pray?”

And all that finger wagging turns into the shame-based reprimand: “Have more faith!”

More Faith?

“Have more faith?” As if having more faith is something we can simply will ourselves into. “Don’t be a doubting Thomas!” “Pray more.” “Worry less.” “Be good.” “Have more faith!”

Why has all this shame been directed at poor Thomas? Who made him the designated doubt-catcher? Maybe that says a lot more about us and our self-defensiveness, our fear that it might not be true.

Honest and Honorable

Look. Thomas just happened to not be in the room when Jesus first shows up. So what if he’s just being honest? He says: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

But if you look more carefully at the gospel of John you have to wonder how he developed such a bad reputation. You do not have to read the text in a way that shames our dear skeptic, Thomas. In fact, I will set forth the slightly risky (but way more fun) reading that Thomas is actually given a position of honor in John’s gospel. Hear me out.

A Great Riddle

Here’s how John works. In the prologue, we are given a great riddle, a puzzle: the mystery of the Word made flesh. And the rest of John can be read as an unfolding, a revealing of that great mystery. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” “And the Word became flesh.”

The gospel of John ends with this confession, with Thomas, the doubter, proclaiming “My Lord and My God.” And in John’s big, bold, crazy, symbol-laden story of Jesus, these words are huge. It is Thomas, the skeptic, who gets to answer the great riddle with which the gospel begins. Thomas is the one who gets to put in the last piece of the puzzle, deliver the punch line, light the torch, solve the mystery with his: “My Lord and my God.” Here at the end of the story, Thomas the doubter gets to answer the great riddle of John’s prologue.

The Thomasian Creed

How about confessing our faith in what we don’t know for sure, waiting to see if it’s true?

In the words of the Thomasian Creed: “I want to believe in God, the Father Almighty, the maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord. But I won’t believe until I stick my hand in his side.” When we recite the creeds or defend the faith or claim we are Christian, are we overstating our beliefs? Why shouldn’t we just wait and see? I mean, it worked out pretty well for Thomas, right? What’s so bad about being a pending Christian? A Christian in waiting? We act, we live, we believe. But at the same time, we wait for God’s further revealing, in time, in history.

The Hardest Question

In light of Thomas’s very real and historical un-belief and its answer, in time and history, what’s so bad about having less faith, focusing not on what we possess but on what we lack? Can having less of it lead us to a more humble, hopeful, historical, future oriented faith?

Mark Stenberg is a trained academic theologian who got side-tracked planting churches. He started House of Mercy House of Mercy, with co-pastors Debbie Blue and Russell Rathbun in 1996 and ten years later he left that call to launch Mercy Seat Lutheran Church along with his current colleague, Kae Evensen. Mark holds a Ph.D. from Northwestern University where he studied philosophy with the likes of Jürgen Habermas. He is also an adjunct professor at Luther Seminary, teaching in homiletics and in the D.Min. program. Mark lost his spouse to cancer in March of 2007 but is profoundly grateful for every moment he gets to spend with his amazing children, Angela and Mateo.


  1. Albert Durksen says:

    I have agreed with your reading of Thomas for quite a while. But I have read the “creed” part just a little differently, which just got stronger for me through the connection you made to the beginning of John. For me Thomas represents me in my questioning – he/I need to know that it is the real Christ, who is risen, who is being encountered, not an apparition. We need to feel the Word-become-flesh. Thomas touching the wounds of Jesus gave him and me the assurance that this was the Christ who died and rose – therefore “My Lord and my God!.”

  2. Elizabeth S. says:

    Psst, this is misfiled under “Luke” instead of “John.”

    • The Hardest Question says:

      And here…all along…we were assuming we were infallible. Great catch, Elizabeth. Thank you. We always appreciate a compassionate eye for proofing here at THQ.

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