As we’ve just heard, in John’s Gospel, when the risen Christ first appears to the disciples, Thomas is missing. When the others tell him what they’ve seen, he refuses to believe unless he can see and touch for himself.
For that, he’s been remembered as ‘Doubting Thomas.’ But I sometimes wonder about the person the Gospel never mentions. Because the Gospel tells us something intriguing about Thomas: he’s called the Twin.
When I was at college, there were identical twins, who would swop clothes and boyfriends – or, at least, so they said…
And if Thomas was a twin, then somewhere there must have been another person – someone who shared his face, his childhood, his memories. Though we don’t know if his twin was a brother or a sister.
Growing up with Thomas
I imagine that if you grow up with a twin, you learn quickly that people compare you. They notice the similarities. They notice the differences.
So, this is my flight of fancy, that I am the twin of Thomas…
Thomas was always the thoughtful one. Not cynical – but careful. He listened before he spoke. He asked questions others did not think to ask.
When we were young, if someone told a story that sounded too good to be true, Thomas would tilt his head slightly and say: ‘Are you sure?’ He wasn’t trying to ruin the story. He simply wanted the truth.
The day everything changed
When Thomas began following Jesus, I noticed something different about him. He was still thoughtful, still cautious. But there was a new light in him, a sense of hope.
He told me about this rabbi from Nazareth who spoke about the kingdom of God as if it were already near. He told me about signs and healings and crowds who gathered to listen.
But even then, Thomas was never easily swept along by excitement. When others were certain, he was thoughtful. When others rushed ahead, he paused. And perhaps that is why what happened in Jerusalem broke his heart so deeply.
Because he had hoped – carefully, cautiously hoped – that this teacher might truly be the one sent by God. But then came the cross.
The week of rumours
After the crucifixion, rumours began spreading through the city. People said the tomb was empty. Some claimed to have seen Jesus alive.
But Thomas was not there the first evening when the others gathered behind locked doors. He was out getting food or getting some air, I forget which. Later, they told him what had happened. ‘We have seen the Lord!’
I could almost hear his voice when he answered them. ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands… unless I put my hand into his side… I will not believe.’
People sometimes hear those words as stubbornness. But I knew Thomas.
Those words were not the voice of a sceptic who wanted to argue. They were the voice of someone who had been wounded. Hope had already broken once. He could not bear for it to break again.
Eight days later
Eight days passed. Then one evening the disciples were together again, and this time Thomas was with them. The doors were still locked. The fear was still there. And then suddenly Jesus stood among them. ‘Peace be with you.’
I imagine the silence in that room. Then Jesus turned directly to Thomas. ‘Put your finger here. See my hands. Bring your hand and put it in my side.’ It is one of the most tender moments in the Gospel.
Jesus does not shame Thomas. He does not rebuke him. Instead, he meets Thomas exactly where he is. At the place of his doubt. At the place of his wounded hope.
The moment of recognition
And Thomas says something amazing: ‘My Lord and my God.’ It is the clearest confession of faith anywhere in the Gospel.
The one who doubted becomes the one who speaks the deepest truth. Because sometimes the people who struggle most honestly with faith end up seeing most clearly who Christ truly is.
The twin in all of us
When I hear this story again, I realise something. Perhaps the Gospel mentions Thomas as ‘the Twin’ for a reason. Because every one of us, in some way, is his twin. We recognise something of ourselves in him. We know what it is to hope – and then lose that hope. We know what it is to hear others speak with certainty when we ourselves are still searching. We know what it is to long for faith and yet feel the weight of questions.
In that sense, we are all Thomas’s twin.
The gift of the story
And the good news of the story is this: Jesus does not turn away from people like Thomas. He does not demand instant certainty. He meets us in the very place where our faith struggles to take hold. And he speaks the same words: ‘Peace be with you.’
The risen Christ comes not only to those whose faith is strong, but also to those who are still learning how to believe.
The final blessing
At the end of the story, Jesus says: ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’ That is not a rebuke to Thomas. It is a blessing for everyone who comes after him. For people like us, who hear the story but were not in the room. For people who still wrestle with questions. For people who hope that the risen Christ might somehow meet us too.
A final thought
If I were truly the twin of Thomas, I think I would say this: do not be ashamed of your questions. Do not be afraid of your doubts. Because the same Christ who stood in that locked room still comes to meet people exactly where they are.
And sometimes that deepest confession of faith – ‘My Lord and my God’ – is spoken not by those who never doubted, but by those who have searched honestly for the truth and found it.
A Blessing for the Twin
Blessed are you
who stand at the threshold of belief,
your hands not empty
but searching.Blessed are you
whose heart has learned caution
after hope has broken once before.Blessed are you
who do not rush toward certainty
but linger at the wound,
wondering whether life could truly rise from it.For Christ comes still
through doors that fear has fastened,
through rooms where grief has gathered,
through nights where questions keep watch.And he does not turn away
from the ones who ask to see,
who long to touch
the places where love has suffered.Instead, he opens his hands.
He offers the scar
as a doorway.He breathes peace
into the space between doubt and trust.So, may you find yourself
drawn closer to the mystery
you once held at a distance.May the wounded Christ
meet you where you stand,and may your searching
become the place
where faith
finds its voice. Amen
“The Twin” was delivered by Ian Banks at St Margaret’s, Heywood on 12th April, 2026. It was based on John 20:19–31.