Sunday. The Eighth Day.
The door opens and Thomas enters in, the small hot room is filled with men. The meal is being set out on the table. John is wearing a towel, finishing washing Matthew’s feet. Matthew is weeping but there’s no sadness in the tears.
“Look who’s here!” Andrew shouting. Thomas waves as Andrew locks the door behind him.
“Tom” Peter bellows while Thomas says “Hey Pete”
“Tommy!” Phil shouts.
“Hey, you’re here!” John, rising from the floor coming over with bucket in hand. Thomas and Andrew walk towards the group.
“Guys, I’m only here for a little bit but I gotta’ tell you–“
“Shalom. Shalom be with you.” The voice comes to the right shoulder of Thomas. The door is still closed, the lockbar still in place.
Silence. The disciples are transfixed over Thomas’ shoulder and he doesn’t breathe as He closes his eyes and slowly turns around.
“Tom. Come over here with your finger and see My hands. Why don’t you also put your hand here, in My side. Stop doubting but believe.”
Thomas doesn’t move; he barely looks at the very real evidence of the risen Jesus. He stares at his eyes and his long, lonely week slam into him bringing him to his knees, knocking him down to understand and confess.
“You are the Lord Messiah–but more, you are my Lord Master. You are my Lord God. My Lord and My God.”
The sun is shining brightly. We are outside of the house, looking in through the open window seeing Thomas standing at the open door. The table is no longer turned over. The stain on the wall is cleaned. Thomas’ personal effects lay neatly on the table, next to his satchel. We can’t hear the soft voice of the person Thomas is speaking with.
“No, I will not come Sabbath: the High Priest may still be looking for us. I will be leaving on tomorrow evening. They’re still in Jerusalem you say? Well, I’ll see them there then.
“I have some words for them: even if He really isn’t alive the signs He did, the words He said, the authority He gave us: all those things are too much for a mere man. I still don’t think they’re specifically right about His being back that would imply–well, its not even worth thinking about that.”
A longer pause.
“Yes, yes, I know: I’m not doubting you. I’m saying that when people hope so much, anything is possible but, let’s not argue. I think I understand some things about Him now that I didn’t have a clue about when He was still alive.
“He knew, Martha! He planned it! I intend to tell them this.”
“We don’t know where you’re going, how can we know the way to get there…” Thomas growls to himself. “We don’t KNOW where you’re going!” he yells it snidely, grabs a pillow and throws it against the wall.”
He kicks over the table and punches the wall “Let’s go with him to Judea and die!” grabs his bag and throws it against the wall “We don’t Know where you’re going!” Thomas throws a punch at the air and falls down, heavily breathing.
“…Eloi, eloi, lama sabachtani…?” He turns over “How could we have been so blind?”
Thomas is splashing water on his face, hair and back. He opens his red-rimmed eyes, and stops, his hands frozen above the basin, water dripping back in. He stares, not at his own reflection but at the sparkling, rippling water.
“The blind man.” He slowly scoops up some water and methodically washes his eyes. “That blind man…we asked Him who sinned. He told us neither: that confused us for weeks…” he chuckles “but still, he told him to wash in Siloam but first…but first: what was it?” He closes his eyes and puts water once more, over his shut eyelids.
“We must work the works of Him who sent Me as long as it is day: night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the Light of the world…”
“…did He know…? Is it possible?”
He looks at the water basin again, and stands up, staring at it, backing up against the wall. “That night, there was so much that happened: but when He washed our feet…I’ll never forget that. But…but…how could I have forgotten what He said afterwards.
“Not all of you are clean…from now on I am telling you before it comes to pass, so that when it occurs you may believe that I am He…
“…did he really know…?”