Scandal of particularity
Acts 2:42-47; Ps 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24; 1 Pt 1:3-9; Jn 20:19-31
Why did it have to be that way? When we read the Bible, or observe the world around us noticing how various people, places and times are associated with specific events, it is natural to ponder why God had to do things in the way that he did, rather than some other way.
If such questions give you pause or cause for concern, you’re in good company. Theologians refer to the struggle we sometimes feel over God’s choices as the “scandal of particularity.” In this context “scandal” means an obstacle we encounter on the way to a deeper understanding of why God is acting as he does.
For example, we are given no clear reason for why God accepted Abel’s sacrifice but not Cain’s, nor why David was the preferred one among Jesse’s sons to be the future king of Israel. Why did the incarnation happen two millennia ago in Palestine rather than 60 years ago in China? And so forth.
The question often becomes much more personal, such as, why was she the only person in her family to be diagnosed with cancer?
I have generally found that these types of questions, while they might be engaging (or maddening) for a time, rarely lead to meaningful resolution. There is no particular choice that God was required to make, he could have done things in any number of ways. So perhaps a more fruitful question would be: Since God did choose a particular way, why might that way be especially helpful to us on our spiritual journey?
With that in mind, consider Thomas’ situation in today’s Gospel. I recall wrestling as a child with the question of why Jesus could not have simply waited until all the disciples were together before appearing to them in the locked room the first time. I could easily imagine Thomas feeling some disappointment in Jesus for leaving him out of the scene and feeling resentment toward the other disciples for their being privileged to share such an intimate moment with Jesus that he was denied.
The Gospel text offers no reason whatsoever for explaining why Thomas was not included in the group.
Perhaps some of those feelings underlay his seeming obstinance in believing the others’ claim that Jesus had, in fact, appeared to them. After all, did Thomas really think that all the disciples would have banded together and concocted a wild story just to fool him? I doubt it.
Rather than revealing a sober skeptic who demanded concrete evidence before yielding consent — as he is often portrayed — I think Thomas could have used his resolute refusal to believe as a way of protecting himself from admitting that he might not have been good enough in Jesus’ eyes. That’s the dark suggestive power of the scandal of particularity.
So what does Thomas do with those feelings? The evangelist is noticeably silent on the matter. We hear nothing more from Thomas until a full week has passed. We know the story: Jesus appears to Thomas, who now has the evidence he claimed he needed, and he publicly affirms his belief.
We often treat this story as a strong exhortation to believe, even without having all the evidence we may desire. And that’s a perfectly fine lesson. But I’d like to suggest that there is an equally important lesson to be gained here.
Long before Jesus appeared to Thomas and provided the evidence he called for, Thomas came back to the group.
Even though the scandal of particularity had not been resolved; even though it meant continuing to gather with a group in which he clearly stood out as one who lacked the shared, life-changing experience; even though he may well have harbored self-doubts about his worthiness in comparison with his friends; he returned as a member of the community he had journeyed so far with.
Even though he wasn’t the one chosen, that did not prevent him from sharing in the graces of the ones who had been.
Perhaps that is Thomas’ greatest lesson for us. Not simply to “believe without seeing,” but to trust in the value of our Christian community, not only when we feel chosen, but even when we do not.