Why I think The Chosen got it wrong with the Ramah scene

During the long, dark, winter lockdown, our family began watching The Chosen.

From the first episode, we, like millions of others, were hooked.

Up to that point, I’d never really appreciated dramatisations of the Bible. But finally, here was a portrayal of Jesus I could believe in, along with disciples who had character and intrigue.

The whole production is world class and has set a new standard in visualisation (turning ancient accounts into fully dramatised scenes), harmonisation (blending four gospels into one compelling story) and adaptation (creating backstories and subplots to sustain a multi-season show).

Different episodes sparked great conversations with our children about whether something really happened, and if that’s what a Pharisee really looked like. As someone passionate about growing Bible engagement, I’ve been so grateful for The Chosen. 

That is until Season 4, Episode 3. If you haven’t reached this episode yet, then please note spoilers follow…

The Chosen introduces some characters not specifically named in the gospels. One of them is Ramah, the wife-to-be of doubting Thomas. This is perfectly plausible as we know that other anonymous women also followed Jesus (Luke 8:1-3). However, after healing a man born blind (as in John 9) Jesus deliberately provokes the Pharisees and stirs up the crowd. A Roman governor called Quintus is alerted and rushes to the scene. In a desperate bid to restore order, Quintus fatally stabs Ramah. As she lies on the floor, bleeding to death, Jesus seems unable or unwilling to heal her. Despite Thomas’ desperate pleas, Jesus simply says: “It is not her time. I love you, Thomas. He loves you. I’m so sorry”. 

Understandably, this scene provoked quite a reaction. Fans attached to Ramah felt angry that she had been cut out of future episodes. For me, there were also less sentimental reasons for questioning the wisdom of this shocking scene. 

Invented plotlines

I have no issue with The Chosen inventing extra-biblical characters or minor subplots and backstories. Peter struggling to get on with Matthew, or ‘little James’ walking with a limp are all plausible details that fill out the back story and make the main story more engaging. But the murder of Ramah goes much further than this. It invents a major plotline that is not in the Bible.  

The murder of Ramah feels less like a backstory and more like a main story. The next episode is entirely preoccupied with the aftermath, as the disciples return Ramah’s body to her father and Thomas laments Jesus’ failure to intervene. For the first time, a fictional plotline is driving the narrative and demanding further responses from Jesus.  

Why does this matter? Well, it risks creating confusion, especially for those who don’t already have a basic understanding of Jesus. Our children looked bemused when we tried to explain that Ramah didn’t really exist, and didn’t get stabbed by a Roman soldier in front of Jesus. Having worked hard to explain this, the thought of trying to also convince them that Jesus really did heal a blind man by rubbing spit in his eyes seemed too much. Inventing major plotlines like the murder of Ramah, which sit alongside historical events like the healing of the blind man, risks creating uncertainty. Surely there’s enough drama to work with in the gospels already? 

the murder of Ramah invents a major plotline that is not in the Bible

I also have a theological flag to wave. The murder of Ramah was clearly motivated by the need to create a backstory for doubting Thomas, who can come across like the Eeyore disciple in John’s Gospel. However, I’m not convinced Thomas’ doubts are best explained by something as exceptional as the murder of his fiancé. The whole point of John 20:29 is that Thomas is a foil for gospel readers like us who have not seen the risen Jesus but are still called to believe.  

The other motivation was to provide a mirror scene, reflecting our emotions and experiences. Dallas Jenkins, director of The Chosen, rightly notes: “The disciples have the same questions you do and are struggling with the same things.” When Jesus chooses not step in, Thomas and co. are left wondering: Why do you sometimes not heal those we love, even when we plead with you? However, while the problem of unanswered prayer is addressed elsewhere in scripture, the gospels don’t go there. Instead, their focus is on presenting Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah, who came to reestablish God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. The only thing that prevents Jesus from healing the sick or raising the dead in the gospels is the lack of faith in his hometown of Nazareth. 

I appreciate this doesn’t resolve our questions about suffering. But the gospels are preoccupied with another task: heralding the arrival of the bridegroom. After Jesus has gone, the disciples will fast, mourn, and wrestle with painful issues. But the time of his visitation is a moment to celebrate God’s victory over evil and death. Which is why introducing artificial scenarios about unanswered prayer into the earthly ministry of Jesus falls flat. “I’m sorry Thomas….It’s not her time” fails to satisfy the underlying question and risks diluting the primary message of the gospels in the process. 

Nevertheless, The Chosen remains a brilliant work of creative storytelling. It deserves generous applause and the benefit of the doubt. Our family will be tuning in to Season 5 when it arrives next month The whole narrative will pivot toward Jerusalem, and the weekend that changed the world. The ultimate tragedy and victory will no doubt steal the show in the end. It always does.