On this Second Sunday of Easter Year C. We begin our celebration with a tinge of sadness at the passing of our Holy Father Pope Francis. ‘We give praise to the Lord’ for his ministry and pray for the repose of his soul. For the Psalmist tells us —’The Lord is good, and his mercy endures forever.’ ‘Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen.’
As hinted in the Gospel readings on Easter Sunday, John, in writing the final pages of his Gospel, had one very definite goal: to define paschal faith, to show how the ‘eyes of faith’ allow the human eye to perceive hidden truths. This Sunday’s Gospel tells all believers how one can believe without having seen with the eyes of flesh, and Jesus’ words — ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed’ — assure us that our condition compares anything but unfavourably to that of the first witnesses of the resurrection: like us, not without hesitation and difficulty, they had to go beyond immediate experience , moving from ‘seeing’ to ‘believing.’ Eight days after the celebration of Easter, this Gospel acts like an icon to be kept in the forefront of one’s awareness throughout the fifty days of Easter.
The appearance of the resurrected to the disciples ‘on the evening of the first day of the week’ was not unlike the appearance to Mary Magdalene ‘on the first day of the week….early in the morning, while it was still dark.’ But there were some important differences. Mary saw, in the garden, a man she took for the gardener. He asked her: ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ He called her by name: ‘Mary!’ And she recognised him: ‘Rabbouni!’ It was an unexpected encounter, but not entirely strange. Mary Magdalene thought that the sorrowful events she had witnessed were a nightmare from which she had just been awakened. The Lord corrected her: ‘Stop holding on to me.’ The ‘Master’s’ death and resurrection were perfectly real, ineffable facts, steps toward a fulfilment: ‘I have not yet ascended to the Father.’
That very evening the disciples found themselves gathered in a locked room, having carefully bolted all the doors. Suddenly ‘Jesus came and stood before them.’ Before his disciples had time to react, he said, ‘Peace be with you.’ No longer was he a man bound by physical laws. He appeared in a locked room that no-one could have entered except by breaking down the doors. He it was, with nail marks in his hands and a lance wound still visible in his side. But he appeared in a wholly new state, which shall belong to him forever: he is the Living One seated at the right hand of the Father. Transfigured, freed from the constraints of his mortal body, he can appear anywhere: no obstacle, no locked door can prevent him from ‘coming.’ As he promised, he did not leave us orphans. He left, but only for our benefit. Resurrected, he brought to his own the peace he promised them, the good news of salvation, which the disciples then had to proclaim to all people.
Sending his disciples as the Father had sent him, the risen one breathed on them and gave them the Holy Spirit. Theirs was now, the mission to bring salvation into the world.
This passage is often called the ‘Johannine Pentecost,’ but somewhat inappropriately, because according to Acts, at Pentecost the breath of the Spirit gave birth to the Church. Peter’s preaching caused a large number of conversions among the pilgrims in Jerusalem: ‘Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphlia, Egypt and the districts of Lybya near Cyrene, as well as travellers from Rome, both Jews and converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs…’ About ‘Three thousand’ received baptism on that day, the first fruits of the missionary preaching soon to be carried out everywhere. (Acts 2)
Everything is less dramatic here in John’s Gospel. There is no noise, like a strong driving wind,’ no fire that separates into tongues of flame and comes to rest on the disciples At Pentecost, they ‘began to speak in different tongues as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim.’ Here, there is a difference, nothing happens outwardly. Jesus was there. The disciples stood speechless and ‘rejoiced when they saw the Lord.’ Only he was able to do anything: he breathed on them and said to them, ‘receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld’. One couldn’t imagine a more solemn, yet serene and gentle scene. By his presence alone, the risen Lord awakened his disciple’s faith. They had locked themselves in a room ‘for fear of the Jews,’ i.e. those who had condemned Jesus: suddenly they found themselves comforted, overflowing with great joy. They ‘did not yet understand the scripture that [Jesus] had to rise from the dead’: now they saw him before them, and their eyes were opened to faith. After earlier verifying that the tomb where the Lord had been laid was empty, with the shroud lying on the ground and the head wrapping ‘rolled up in a separate place,’ two of them returned home perplexed: now they heard the risen Christ opening up a new future and imposing a mission on them; it belonged to them to continue the work of salvation undertaken by the Lord in the forgiving of sins.
It is at once so simple and so grand that the evangelist needs nothing to add. What point would there be in more details? It is not the length of the appearance that matters, but it’s inexpressible intensity. Why could he have not reported the disciples’ reactions? The only things that belong here are silence and adoration. Nevertheless, contemplation cannot ignore the duty of witnessing. Thomas, one of the Twelve, was not there when Jesus came. When he showed up, the others told him: ‘We have seen the Lord!’ His answer was:‘Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.’
Of course, the evangelist does not tell us this about Thomas to present him as a skeptic, an example to avoid. Nor does he present him as a man who will believe nothing without proofs. This Gospel very often wrongly portrays Thomas as ‘‘doubting Thomas’. On the contrary: the Gospel tells us that every one of his disciples first reacted to the announcement of the resurrection with incredulity, fear or doubt. On the other hand, John specifically says that Jesus showed the disciples his wounds: the stigmata of the passion proved that it was really the crucified who was standing in their midst. Thomas’ request then— to probe the nail marks with his finger and put his hand into Jesus’ side —fits very well with this. This episode with Thomas is perfectly integrated into this part of the Gospel.
The appearance, ‘a week later’ follows the same pattern as the first, ‘On the evening of the first day of the week.’ Once more, despite the locked doors, Jesus came and stood before them. He greeted his disciples in the same way: ‘Peace be with you.’ The first time, he took the initiative to show them his hands and his side. Now he invited Thomas likewise, by the same signs, to prove that it was he. Having witnessed the resurrection with the others, Thomas must have the same experience, see the same ‘proofs’ as they. In his First Letter, John, who insists on the identity of the Word and Jesus, the reality of the incarnation of the Son of God, writes: ‘This is what we have heard and what we have seen with our eyes, what we looked upon and touched with our hands [concerning] the word of life.’ At the end of his Gospel, he proclaims just as strongly the reality of the resurrection, the identity of the crucified and the resurrected . Faith and grace have given supernatural keenness to the senses of God’s chosen witnesses. Thus, they could ‘see’ with their eyes and ‘touch’ with their hands the body of the risen Lord. This is why their witness is definite and irrefutable.
Nevertheless, Thomas’ character is of particular importance for us. He appears as the hinge between two generations of believers. He belongs to the group of the ‘chosen witnesses’ who saw the risen one and to those who, throughout the ages, have received the faith that comes from the apostles, appropriating it for himself. Like the other first witnesses, Thomas had to pass from doubt to belief. His special experience, reported by the evangelist, reinforces, so to speak, the apostolic witness.
‘Do not disbelieve, but believe.’ Is more of exhortation than a reproach, and the Lord addresses it to each of us. Moreover, John concludes this passage and his whole Gospel by declaring: ‘Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this Book. But these are written that you may [come to] believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may live in his name.’
The story of the double appearance of the risen Lord to the apostles and the finale to John’s Gospel, which we shall read later, have a definite, liturgical, and especially Eucharistic flavour. ‘The first day of the week’,when the Lord appeared to the apostles, is the day when the Christian community comes together to celebrate the Eucharist, the sacrament of the Lord’s presence during his absence. ‘He comes, in the midst of his own, but under signs’ that both reveal him and conceal him. Although hidden he is really present, but only faith can perceive his presence. As on that evening of Easter, he brings peace and, with it, forgiveness of sins, joy, and the effusion of the Spirit. The celebration ends with the directive to go out and bring the good news of the resurrection, to witness to it to show that faith is the source of happiness, the experience of the beatitude.
At this Mass, let us listen to what Jesus says to Thomas and be thankful for our gift of faith:
‘Have you believed because you can see me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’
As we receive the Lord in Holy Communion today, let us echo Thomas’ wonderful proclamation of faith and proclaim with him on this Second Sunday of Easter:
‘My Lord and my God.’
