“The Incredulity of Saint Thomas,” Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1602. I just did an image search for “resurrection of christ painting.” What the goog returned were mostly what appear to be the Ascension, not the Resurrection. When I contemplate Easter, this is what comes to mind. A dead man risen from his tomb before the astonished eyes of his family and friends. Here Caravaggio is up to his usual tricks… a single bright light source draws the figures out of deep shadow, a method known as “chiaroscuro.” He enhances the depth by using Thomas’ elbow to poke at us, pushing us back. He shows us the moment Jesus places Thomas’ finger in the wound left by the Spear of Longinus, the centurion. Though as a boy I chose Peter the Rock for my Confirmation name, in reality it has always been the doubting Thomas with whom my affinity truly lies. I search, I seek, I pray for faith, but I’ve never in my adult life felt as though I truly believe. A friend posted a story this morning about a stranger who asked, “Are you a Christian?” My answer to that question is, “I’m a sinner.”
The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
