Let’s shift the focus on this Gospel slightly from the usual Thomas’ doubt to Jesus’ wounds. Clearly, Thomas was skeptical, but how does Jesus respond? Not with Mandatory Written Assent to the Doctrine of the Resurrection. Not with sly scolding. But with a “touch my wounds,” implying “touch yours too.”
Touch the wounds? Some of us hesitate to admit we even have them, but probing seems too intimate. Unless you know your own, Jesus might ask, how will you soothe another’s?
How will you recognize—beneath the belligerent teenager, the contentious colleague, the arrogant pastor, or the cranky spouse—the hurting child? Will you intuit how many people in prison were victims before they became perpetrators?
Interestingly, there’s no record that Thomas actually touched the wounds. Maybe all he needed was for Jesus to see and accept him completely, his need for tangible proof, his shaky “outsider” status. We don’t know Thomas’ backstory—did a feeling of being “stranger and sojourner” prompt his arrogant demand?
The Adverse Childhood Experiences scale shows how childhood trauma leaves long-lasting scars. Adult behavior that seems bizarre may have been triggered by abuse or abandonment long ago. Even those lucky enough to have avoided early disaster understand Jesus’ question to Mary in the garden, “Why do you weep?” At some level, we all weep. Compassion for ourselves precedes reverence for the heartbreak many carry beneath the surface.
When we see ourselves and everyone else as limping and bandaged, that’s a step toward “the household of God” described in Ephesians. We are built together into God’s dwelling place through Christ Jesus, who is unafraid to show his wounds.

Kathy Coffey

Kathy Coffey is a mother of four, a speaker and retreat leader. An award-winning writer, she is author of When the Saints Came Marching In and the recently released A Generous Lap: A Spirituality of Grandparenting. For more information, see her website: kathyjcoffey.com.