Riddles, Revelation, and the Gospel of Thomas
Riddles, Revelation, and the Gospel of Thomas: Rethinking What We Thought We Knew
If you begin with the assumption that the Gospel of Thomas is Gnostic, then of course, that’s exactly what you’ll find. But what if that assumption blinds us to something deeper? What if, instead of heresy, we’re looking at a record of Jesus’ own interpretive method—a way of reading Scripture that the New Testament authors themselves used, but that modern theologians have long abandoned?
Many scholars today reluctantly admit that they can't read the Old Testament the way Jesus or the apostles did. They lack the framework, the riddling lens, the prophetic mystery that ties it all together in Christ. And yet, when a text like the Gospel of Thomas dares to echo that older, more mysterious method—interpreting riddles, parables, and hidden sayings—it’s immediately dismissed as “Gnostic,” simply because it doesn’t fit into our later, literalist hermeneutics.
Perhaps that’s the real problem. Not that the Gospel of Thomas is trying to teach a different Jesus, but that it may be trying to teach the way Jesus read the Old Testament—a way of revelation through mystery. And that is simply not allowed in a world where we’ve decided, “We all know it is nothing but literal!”
The Gospel Was Always a Mystery
Here’s something we can affirm with confidence: the gospel was hidden knowledge—until after the cross. If salvation had come before the cross, there would have been no need for it. But the cross wasn’t just a means of salvation; it was the revelation that gave people something to believe in. Paul calls it “the mystery hidden from the beginning,” and Jesus taught that He spoke in parables so that they would not understand—until the time was right.
In that light, Jesus’ teachings prior to the cross were deliberately hidden, spoken in riddle-form. Only after the resurrection, when the disciples’ eyes were opened, could they begin to understand. A secret can be taught openly if it’s wrapped in riddle—and that’s exactly what Jesus did. The Gospel of Thomas, if read as riddle, might be preserving some of that same tradition.
Canon and Christ
Let’s be clear: the Gospel of Thomas is not apostolic. It shouldn’t be added to the canon. But does that mean it has nothing to offer? Not necessarily. It doesn’t present “another Jesus.” Rather, the problem may lie in our expectations—our mislabeling of genre and failure to recognize how Jesus and His contemporaries interpreted Scripture.
Consider Rabbi Eliezer ben Jose the Galilean, one of the most quoted rabbis of early Judaism. He was considered a heretic by the Jews. Why? Perhaps because he saw what others could not. Perhaps because, like Paul, he encountered Christ—and suddenly the prophetic riddles came alive. There’s an old story that when he saw the white stone, he cried, “Water, water!” Could it be that he, too, saw the hidden Word in the Old?
The Danger of Misreading the Genre
When we misidentify genre, we misinterpret content. Even within the New Testament canon, we’ve done this. Paul explicitly says that when he talks about marriage, he is actually talking about “Christ and the church.” Yet for centuries, we’ve taken his words about women literally—applying them to earthly marriage—when he meant for the church (the bride) to quietly learn from Christ.
In riddling language, even reversals matter. Saying 37 in the Gospel of Thomas—"Blessed is the woman who bore you"—is a euphemistic reversal: the one who bore Him will soon cry “Crucify Him.” It’s a prophecy, wrapped in irony and sorrow. Greek logic doesn't apply here. Riddle does.
Saying 22, too, echoes Paul’s voice in Galatians 3:28: “There is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” So why would it be scandalous for an Egyptian saying to speak in similar terms? Is it simply guilt by association?
The Most Mocked Saying… Might Be the Most Profound
Let’s talk about Saying 114—the infamous “make the woman male” line. It’s been mocked, dismissed, and misunderstood. But consider Paul’s metaphor: Christ is the man; the church is the woman. The woman learns; the man knows. Not because of superiority, but because of revelation.
In riddling language, to “make the woman male” means to teach her. To give her knowledge. To bring her into unity with the knowing Christ. Jeremiah once said he saw the day when all men were pregnant. That’s not biology—it’s a riddle of spiritual reproduction.
That’s the day when “no one will say, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they will all know Him.” All will be “male,” in the metaphor—filled with knowledge of God. And what is the fruit? Spiritual fruit. The bride (the church) and the groom (Christ) will be fruitful and multiply—not by flesh, but by teaching. Teaching is spiritual reproduction.
Now go back to Saying 37: “Blessed is the one who reproduces by teaching.”
Echoes from the East
Curiously, in India, where Thomas is said to have traveled, there’s a saying: All men should become virgins. Riddle again. The virgin is the bride, pure and spiritual. All should become the virgin bride of Christ—not reproducing by flesh, but spiritually, through knowledge of God and the fruit of the Spirit.
So yes—the Gospel of Thomas is not canon. It’s not a gospel in the same sense as Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. But perhaps it’s something even more curious: a book that tries to preserve the riddling way Jesus read Scripture. A lens we’ve long since lost.
If Raymond Brown hadn’t dismissed it, maybe—just maybe—he would’ve found the missing key to what the early church called the sensus plenior: the fuller, spiritual meaning, hidden from the foundation of the world, and revealed in Christ.
Final Thought:
Before we write something off as heresy, maybe we should first ask whether we’ve misunderstood the question. Maybe the Gospel of Thomas doesn’t give us a new gospel—but an old way of seeing the one we already have.
