A Reflection for the Feast of St. Thomas, Apostle
You are fellow citizens with the holy onesand members of the household of God.
St Thomas the Apostle can claim a number of dubious distinctions. He is perhaps the only saint to be remembered best for what might have been his life’s least-flattering moment. Other saints (St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Francis) are remembered for serious mistakes too, but we also remember the redemptive stories that followed those moments of weakness. St. Thomas will apparently live forever in Church tradition as “Doubting Thomas,” the man who stubbornly insisted that seeing was believing.
His name is remembered with honor, but not primarily for the honor he brought to it. This is his second dubious distinction. Alone among the Apostles, he was solidly eclipsed by another Thomas who lived centuries after him. Little boys named “Thomas” are numerous in my Catholic community, but unless told otherwise, I assume that they are named for the Angelic Doctor, St. Thomas Aquinas.
St. Thomas was not a failure. He made his contributions. Tradition holds that he preached the Gospel in India, where millions of Christians (most famously the Syro-Malabar Church) still trace their ecclesial lineage back to his evangelical efforts. When the host is elevated, and we speak the words “My Lord and my God,” we are quoting St. Thomas. Meanwhile, claiming the greatest philosopher of all time for a namesake can surely be no cause for shame. By any normal standard he lived a remarkable life, but even so, standing among Jesus’ inner circle of most-trusted followers, St. Thomas looks like a man of humble stature. He is the viola of the heavenly orchestra.
But there is nothing wrong with violas. The orchestra needs them and so does the Lord. Today’s readings are meant to encourage us in our ordinary, inglorious, menial-seeming tasks. They remind us that we are already citizens of the New Jerusalem, being integrated into the Lord’s sacred temple. We too are meant to answer the Great Commission to go out and make disciples of all the nations. In one way at least, we can do better than the Apostle whose feast we celebrate today: We can believe without seeing Jesus’ hands, or touching his side. And that simple faith can, as our Lord assures us elsewhere, move mountains.
Even though he was gently rebuked, St. Thomas demonstrates an admirable humility in his willingness to be corrected and enlightened. His response, “My Lord and my God!” demonstrates the penetrating insight that Jesus’ appearance inspired in him. He recognizes now that Jesus is not merely a good and holy man, but God himself. His skepticism gives way to a sincere profession of faith, and the story has now bolstered the faith of countless Christians across the centuries. Now rejoicing with the saints in heaven, we must assume that St. Thomas is content to be remembered as a negative example, understanding that his mistakes help draw souls back to Jesus Christ, the capstone who holds us all together. He played his part.
That’s the thing about violas. Surrounded by louder and flashier instruments, they are easily overlooked, but without them a symphony will never achieve its full richness. By accepting the role God designates for us, we can all give glory and honor to him, and take our own place as fellow citizens with the holy ones, and members of the family of God.
