As an aside, I have never seen Pulp Fiction and perhaps never will because I have this Cubist portrait of the section where the man gets his brain blown out in the car as painted by many friends who saw the movie. Each of them put their own interpretation on the scene. I like the layers of meaning that have resulted enough that I hesitate to see the thing itself and form my own opinion. I think Samuel Jackson quotes Ezekiel, by the way, a Bible book for which I do not have my own version, since it didn’t figure largely in the Sunday school curriculum I grew up with.
I was thinking about all this while I was in church because that’s what church is for: thinking. The gospel passage for yesterday was from John and it told the story of Jesus appearing to the disciples after the resurrection. Thomas wasn’t there at the time and didn’t believe the others when they told him they had seen Jesus. It’s a famous and familiar passage, concluding with the skeptic convinced and the faithful praised.
But I wondered about it. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, really. If all your best friends, together, said they had seen something remarkable, miraculous, why wouldn’t you believe them? It wasn’t like Thomas hadn’t seen miracles before in his time hanging out with Jesus and the gang. He didn’t have a problem with miracles, per se. I was forced to conclude that the disciples were a bunch of practical jokers and Thomas was tired of falling for their tricks.
It makes the disciples seem like more interesting people, too.