On this second Sunday of Easter we read the well-known story of Thomas, the disciple who was not present when Jesus appeared to the community, and then questioned the testimony given by his brothers and sisters (Jn 20:19-31).
Thomas' main flaw was probably his individualism. In a moment of difficulty and persecution, of anguish, when all of Jesus' friends are together, locked in fear (impossible not to think about our current situation of confinement), Thomas was not with them. He went his own way. We do not know what he was up to: it does not matter. The fact is that he did not accompany the others, neither seeking the support of the group nor comforting those most afraid. And when he returned, he questioned the community's testimony.
The truth is that there is nothing wrong with Thomas wanting to make sure that he was not being deceived. If we are honest, perhaps instead of judging him harshly, criticizing his lack of faith, many of us will empathize with him: we, too, want to make sure that we are not being tricked. And we have been deceived so many times, we have been given so many false hopes, people have been trying to sell us “low-cost” paradises so often, that, in reality, it does not seem out of place that, like Thomas, we may be cautious before we become overjoyed by good news.
To a certain extent (and with all due respect for the world of advertising), we must recognize that the extreme consumerism of our time is based on a sort of permanent deception: they want to entice us daily with a thousand offers that more often than not leave us disappointed. That washing machine was not as powerful as we were told; that wonderful soap did not remove stains as easily as promised; this internet plan for the house does not work anywhere near as they assured us I would; this pants or these shoes are not as resistant as they informed us at the store… in this sense, we can empathize with Thomas' distrust.
What is his mistake, though? That he is suspicious of those whom he should have trusted. Carried away by his overwhelming mistrust of others, Thomas ends up distrusting everyone, including those who were not trying to trick him. Thus, Thomas embodies a sort of misguided mistrust.
His story, as such, invites us to do an exercise in discernment, and to ask ourselves: Who should I trust? Who should I not trust? How can I tell when to believe and when to doubt? Life teaches us that we cannot go around trusting everybody indiscriminately. If we did, we would end up as victims of a thousand scams. However, if, on the other hand, we end up trusting no one—that would be a big mistake. For to grow, as human beings and as Christians, is to rely on the testimony of others, to let ourselves be illuminated by other people's experiences, which we end up making our own. In fact, as much as we like to give a certain air of skepticism to our gaze, throughout the day we trust others a thousand times (without even considering it): I trust that the driver of my bus will stop at my stop; that my teacher is not inventing what he teaches in class; that the weatherman who appears in the news has studied meteorology and knows what he is talking about; that my husband is really going to that work meeting, or my son to that friend’s home to do homework.
For us, people of faith, there is one voice, one in particular, whose testimony we should never doubt (and which is precisely the one that Thomas doubted, hence his mistake): the community of believers, gathered and filled with the Holy Spirit. The Church. We are not saying the priests, the bishops, or even the pope, as individuals: rather the community of faith, gathered together, experiencing as a whole the presence of the Risen Lord, sharing hopes, dialoguing about what she has experienced. This community, filled with the Spirit that Jesus has given her, never lies. Her witness is truthful. In this Easter season, we are all invited to be part of such a community, which with its life and reflection gives a true, humble but firm witness of the God's goodness.
