Feast of Saint Thomas, Apostle
When I was confirmed, about the time of Vatican II, well, everyone was simply confirmed. But I was having my (adolescent) doubts. There was no one around with whom I could share them. So I was confirmed, but took the name “Thomas” – as in “doubting” – in case anyone was paying attention.
There are many “Thomases” and they have been wonderful patrons. There is our Apostle, and then of course Aquinas. Saints Becket and More smile to us from martyring Albion. And I have a personal devotion to Thomas Merton who was very human, very American, weak and yet in his “beat poet” way, called to holiness – but as I say that is a personal devotion.
All our Thomases were very incarnate beings. Becket and More shed their life’s blood for Christ. Aquinas adored the Body of Christ as no other, and we sing his hymns today. Merton, well, was a poet, loved the world – no doubt too much on its own terms – but repented of his fall in the flesh. And the Apostle, ah, he touched the very wounds of Christ, and so knew it was really Jesus.
We must see His wounds, know His wounds, love His wounds – if we are not to adore some bloodless Gnostic effigy. Let us believe, and so be blessed! And let us adore His wounds.