Today’s Gospel is well known and beloved. In it we hear the story of “Doubting Thomas.” Thomas, who was not there for the initial appearance of Christ, is present a week later and faced with his own words as the risen Christ confronts him. Caravaggio’s turn-of-the 17th-century painting sought to capture the moment after Christ’s invitation to Thomas.

Thomas is depicted investigating the very wounds that he had earlier demanded to touch. We see the doubtful apostle, his finger guided by the hand of Christ, probing the wound in Jesus’ side. Two other Apostles (unnamed) look on with great interest as Christ facilitates this exploration. Caravaggio painted the image with graphic detail. The tip of Thomas’ finger has disappeared into the wound. His raised eyebrows and forehead lined with amazement give way to the astonishment of the moment. The viewer knows that Thomas comes to belief, saying, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28). Christ then reminds him that he believes because he saw (and touched), but those who come to belief without such tangible evidence are blessed (John 20:29).

Throughout history, the story of Thomas has been presented to us with a particular sense of shame. Many of us have been told, “Don’t be a doubting Thomas.” Certainly, none of us who strongly believe in Christ wish to be compared to the one apostle who doubted the reality of the Resurrection. But there is something here that offers us a different perspective. With the help of Caravaggio’s masterpiece, perhaps we might be able to declare, “Thomas was framed!”

Thomas is willing to probe the mystery of Christ. It is very important to note that Thomas’s initial doubt is actually born from a worldview of faith. In the Judaism of his time, death was the ultimate end. No one comes back, and to believe such a thing would have been clearly establishing a belief that there were either frightening mystical forces at work, or this person was God. To believe either one of these would have put Thomas at odds with the faith that he held. The nature of Thomas’ unbelief is not what we see among many today. Thomas doesn’t reject belief in God, nor does he run to the extremes in order to protect his own understandings. He simply cannot comprehend a reality that has never taken place before: the Resurrection.

If we are to grow in our faith lives, we must begin to probe the mysteries of Christ and His Resurrection! Caravaggio provides us with the key visual cue to understanding this sense of the story. We see that Christ Himself takes Thomas’ hand and facilitates his physical probing of the mystery of the bodily resurrection. Shouldn’t each of us, on this Second Sunday of Easter, so desire to explore such a great mystery?

As the joys of the week gone by seem to fade, and we move back into our day-to-day lives, this story and Caravaggio’s image of Christ challenge us to allow Him to take our hands and help us search, even probe, deeply, the mystery of Easter. This is the Divine Mercy that we celebrate today. Christ doesn’t dismiss the one who questions; he confronts and invites the questioning in such a manner that the truth is revealed before our eyes.

Thomas has been framed throughout Christian history as the shameful patron of those who doubt. Caravaggio’s depiction of Thomas offers us a different view. With each encounter of this story and image of it, we are offered an opportunity to allow Christ to change our worldview and invite us to engage a grace-filled probing to deepen our understanding of the mystery and mercy of our Savior. As we walk through these fifty days of Easter, may we allow our lives, like Thomas in this painting, to be framed by our own deep probing of Christ’s life—the mystery of our life in Him—and to be filled with awe and wonder at His bodily resurrection.

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