A Better Resurrection by Syliva Plath
I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
O Jesus, quicken me.
And from The Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to St. John, chapter 20, verses 24-31, from the Douay-Rheims New Testament (thanks Barry, for suggesting this version of the New Testament):
Now Thomas, one of the twelve, who is called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came.
The other disciples therefore said to him: We have seen the Lord. But he said to them: Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my fingers into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.
And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said: Peace be to you.
Then he saith to Thomas: Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands; and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side, and be not faithless, but believing.
Thomas answered, and said to him: My Lord, and my God.
Jesus saith to him: Because though hast seen me, Thomas, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and believed.
Many other signs also did Jesus in the sight of his disciples, which are not written in this book.
But these are written, that you may believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God: and that believing, you may have life in his name.
And lastly, for me, the doubting Thomas, and for all doubters who are thinking about belief and faith during Passover and Easter, here is something from William James’s essay “The Dilemna of Determinism”, via the book Narratives of Human Evolution by Misia Landau (here is a link to an essay of hers), that addresses moral choices more than belief, reinforcing for me the all important Catholic idea of free will:
The great point is that the possibilites are really here. Whether it be we who solve them, or he working through us, at those soul-trying moments when fate’s scale seems to quiver…is of small account, so long as we admit that the issue is decided nowhere else than here and now. That is what gives the palpitating reality to our moral life and makes it tingle…with so strange and elaborate an excitement.