3.29.24
Sometimes I pray for a slap in the face
Then I beg to be spared cause I’m a coward

A few nights back (maybe a week ago tonight?), I wrote about Missed the Boat by Modest Mouse. There’s a line in that song that I didn’t focus on much in my piece, but it brought me around to tonight’s song.

The lyric goes, We were certainly uncertain, at least, I’m pretty sure I am.

I love the tug of war between certainty and ambiguity in that line. It goes to the point of the lyricist talking himself out of any certainty at all.

Spend a few days in my head (book your vacation now), and you’ll find that process repeated ad nauseam. I can talk myself out of self-confidence and certainty like nobody’s business.

Which brings me to doubt and Doubting Thomas, the song and the man.

The Apostle Thomas is saddled with the burden of a misunderstood verb/adjective: doubting. Thomas — St. Thomas to many — is trapped in religious history, forever cursed by the suffix -ing. Whether it’s 2,000 years ago or right now, the guy was and is in a constant state of doubting. And doubting is also his descriptor.

Which is a shame. Because doubt isn’t a bad thing. It gives pause, an opportunity for deeper consideration, time to take stock. Doubt keeps us from spending time with people who would harm us. It prevents us from draining bank accounts at the first sign of a much-too-easy scheme for getting rich. And it holds up a stop sign to keep us from following charlatans of all stripes.

Thomas is cast as doubting because he needed to see before he believed. Had to see the crucifixion wounds on Christ before he was certain that the man he followed had, in fact, resurrected from the dead. And after seeing, Thomas believed and declared his faith.

Whether you prescribe to this faith tradition or not, Thomas is a fascinating individual. Accounts that follow Christian historical tradition say that after he confirmed his faith, Thomas traveled to India, Italy, and perhaps even China to spread the Gospel. He was a vital part of the growth of the early Christian church.

But he remains known primarily for his doubt, and typically with negative connotations applied to that uncertainty.

Which brings me to Doubting Thomas, a track from Nickel Creek’s incredible 2005 album, Why Should the Fire Die?

Doubting Thomas is a song about a man struggling with faith, courage, and his role in the world. He is wracked by uncertainty, the kind of uncertainty faced by so many on a daily basis. The kind, I suspect, that Thomas felt in his head, heart, and gut when he received word that his dear, recently executed friend had returned from the dead.

I’ve written before a bit about how I think that belief tends to set limits more than it expands horizons. If I say I believe in Bigfoot, the obvious next question is, “What does Bigfoot look like?” And as soon as those parameters are set, Bigfoot and my belief in it are pigeonholed. And whatever someone else believes about Bigfoot is suddenly incorrect as far as I’m concerned. Then the other person and I form our opinionated camps and spend a lot of time talking about why the other camp is wrong. And then we go to war over something that may or may not be exactly what either side believes, or could be something else entirely, or could be absolutely nothing at all.

When it comes right down to it, mostly what I believe in is possibility.

Are certain things possible? Sure. Life after death? Possibly. Nothing after death? Possibly. No life at all and this is a big ol’ simulation? Possibly.

There are so many possibilities. Some have diminishing returns, but I’d rather live with a bunch of maybes than go through life with absolute certainties that demand lots of people I don’t know are wrong and less than me because they don’t prescribe to my world view.

Am I wrong to think this way? It’s possible.

But I doubt it.