It’s a dark night, a night preceded by an unbelievable day. A day preceded by a weekend of nightmarish events. It is the evening of the first Easter and all the disciples save one are huddled together in an upper room wondering what will happen next.

Of course, we know what happens next, as it stands as one of the most famous post-resurrection stories from the Gospels. Jesus comes among the disciples and yet that absent disciple, the twin known as Thomas, refuses to believe his companions’ story when he returns after the fact.

This is Thomas’ most famous appearance in the gospels and, obviously, the one for which he is best known. But that’s a bit unfair to him. Thomas, as a point of fact, gets almost as much press time as any of the others, less than Peter, but easily the equal of James and John. He often appears in the middle of a time of teaching between Jesus and his disciples, almost always asking a question.

Which is precisely what he should be doing. We often talk about disciples as this “church word” that means follower, but it more accurately though of as student. And what does a student do when he or she does not understand what the teaching is saying? They ask a question.

In many ways, the episode in the upper room on that first Easter is par for the course for Thomas. He’s just been told that Jesus is alive, but he can’t believe it. He doesn’t understand, and as such, he questions. I want to see. I want to know. I want this to be true, but I can’t believe it without seeing.

We so often ridicule Thomas for his doubt, but I believe that he should be commended here for his honesty. Too often, we as people of faith are afraid to admit that there are things we don’t understand. That there are things we don’t quite believe. But rather than ask, rather than seek that understanding and that faith, we keep silent out of fear that our doubt will receive ridicule from our peers or worse, condemnation from God himself. But not Thomas. Thomas does ask. He asks to see. He asks to understand. He asks for what he needs to believe.

And so, I think, should we. Blind faith can often be a foolish faith.

In Wisconsin, this past week, a 11 year old girl died as her family chose to pray over her rather than take her to a doctor. She died of an easily treatable form of diabetes. Now I don’t know what was truly running through the minds of her parents, but I must presume that they expected some sort of shaft of light or miraculous recovery or who knows what. Yet they apparently never once considered the possibility that the miracle they were praying for was to be found in the hands of a trained physician, a man or woman gifted and called by God as healer for the sick.

An unquestioning faith does not give God enough credit. An unquestioning faith believes that God will work only in one way, the way we’ve thought of, and never considers the possibility that God works in many ways. That God might act in an unexpected way, and that the miraculous might be hidden within the mundane.

A blind faith, an unquestioning faith, does not give God enough credit. Neither does it give the devil enough credit as well. We are warned frequently of how the devil can disguise himself as an angel of light, that evil can lurk behind virtue. We are warned by Jesus himself that many will come in his name and yet are not a part of him. How can we spot these charlatans? How can we know when evil is hidden in virtue, if we do not question?

We live in a society that thrives on deceit. We are what, 8 months from Election Day, and already we have seen the candidates and their mouthpieces in the media twist the truth into that which is false and twist lies into the truth. And that’s just politics. To say nothing of the practices of businesses and advertisers, all who seek to line their pockets with the fruits of our gullibility. How will we discern what right and good and true if we take what we are told at face value and never question?

St. Paul commends us to this very task. In his first letter to the church of Thessalonika, he closes with an exhortation to “test everything.” To test everything, and then after doing so we are to hold fast to the good and to reject the evil. Paul calls us to test, to question, to seek, and then after doing so hopefully then we shall understand and believe. This is what Thomas is doing, although that Easter evening is many years before Paul writes those words. He wants to believe, he wants to understand, and so he asks “show me.”

It is a model for us to follow in our own journeys of faith. It is no shame to ask, because every asking is an act of faith. Thomas trusts that when he asks, when he seeks an answer to his lack of understanding, his lack of belief, he trusts that an answer will come. And that is precisely what happens. A week later, once again the disciples are gathered together and Jesus comes among them. He turns to Thomas and there are no words of scorn, no ridicule at the “doubter,” no condemnation for the one who did not believe. Instead, Jesus puts out his hands. “You need to see? Here they are. You need to touch? Then touch. Your question now has its answer.” Thomas receives grace. He receives what he asked for.

And so too with us. God’s grace is abundant. God is patient. He knows we’re human. He knows we live in a confusing and often frightening world. But he is always there, waiting to answer our questions, to calm our doubts. In many ways, our questioning is nothing more than what Jesus has asked us to do. To ask, to seek, to knock. And just as Christ promises in that famous verse, there will be an answer. Just as there was for Thomas. Amen.