SECOND SUNDAY OF
EASTER
Cycle “B”: John 20, 19 –31
There is that interesting story of a young detective and
the beautiful lady. It was reported that one night someone knocked on the door
of the lady’s house and then killed her by firing a shotgun into her face as
she opened the door. The young detective was called in to solve the murder of
this beautiful young woman. For the next few days, the detective spends all of
his time in the lady’s house, checking everything she owns. He examines her
photographs and even reads her personal diaries, hoping to find a clue that
might lead to her murderer. Then something peculiar begins to happen. The
detective finds himself emotionally involved. He finds himself falling in love
with the lady, falling in love with a dead person. One night he is in the
lady’s house again when he hears a click in the door. A key is turning in the
lock. He draws his gun trying to steady his hand as he turns to face the
intruder. The door opens, and there stands the beautiful lady!
“But, but, you’re supposed to be dead.”
“No, I’m not,” she replies. “Somebody else is dead; the
woman who occupied my house while I was away on vacation.”
Needless to say, they fall in love.... and the happy
ending.
Today’s Gospel finds the disciples cowering in the upper
room, deeply troubled since they are the known associates of an executed
troublemaker. They too could end up on crosses if the enemies of Jesus widened
the net. Heads together over the tables, how are they going to handle the
crisis? And here he is, he comes imperceptibly and stands among them saying,
“Peace be with you,” and wordlessly shows them his hands and his side. He is
not telling them off or reproaching them. The marks of his bloody Passion are
there, but so is he, standing and smiling, not a resuscitated corpse, but
energetic, strong, serene. “The disciples were filled with joy,” says today’s
Gospel. Note well, their danger has not decreased, the problem is still there,
but it has shrunk into proportion because Jesus is there. Where Jesus is, he
occupies our attention. We ask at Mass that God will deliver us from anxiety.
Anxiety is often a worse scourge than the thing we’re anxious about. The
presence of Jesus brings peace. It is a sense of well-being at the very root of
our being, which can endure all kinds of suffering. It is a gift of the Risen
Lord. If we really believe in him, let us claim it.
The second gift is forgiveness. Peace is not a hundred
miles away from absolution, forgiveness. Forgiveness of sin is available in the
very midst of us.
The third gift is faith. Poor Thomas is no more
unbelieving than the rest of the apostles, but he gets saddled with the
reputation. Jesus treats his doubt with a great deal of compassion, even with
humour. Thomas had told his fellows that
seeing is believing. And it was Christ who taught that believing is seeing. In
a millisecond, his faith has taken a quantum leap. While he was the last to
believe in the Risen Christ, he was the first to make that unqualified cry, “My
Lord and my God.”
In today’ secular climate, faith is a difficult virtue.
The climate is one of systematic doubt.
Faith however means believing things not because a teacher says them or
a priest or the Pope, for that matter, but because God says them. Then we can
relax. A strong faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible and receives
the impossible. St. John wants us to be
men and women of faith, which is quite different from encyclopaedic knowledge.
You can know the Bible backwards in half a dozen languages, and be a professor
of religion in a prestigious university, and still not believe a word of it.
Belief is what matters. Belief is open to people with very little learning, as
much as to those of great learning. By writing the Gospel, St. John means to
clear a path for God’s gift to us whoever we are, the gift of faith.
If we take this Gospel seriously and beg the Risen Lord
to transform us according to his pattern, we will become people of deep
underlying trust and calm, rejoicing in the forgiveness of our sins, and tranquilly
sure of the goodness of God, of the closeness of Jesus, and the power of the
Spirit. A good way to be. You remember
that line from the Easter vigil proclamation:
“Of this night scripture says, ‘The night will be clear
as day; it will become my light, my joy.’”
I would like to pronounce this invocation on you,
composed by David Adam, pone time vicar of Lindisfarne, where St. Cuthbert
lived in the 7th. century.
The Lord of the empty tomb, the
conqueror of gloom,
come to you.
The Lord in the garden walking, the
Lord to Mary talking,
come to you.
The Lord in the upper room,
dispelling fear and doom,
come to you.
The Lord on the road to Emmaus, the
Lord giving hope to Thomas,
come to you.
The Lord appearing on the shore,
giving us life for evermore,
come to you.
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