Weekly Reflections

CCAS Administrative Assistant 4/21/26 CCAS Administrative Assistant 4/21/26

4th Sunday of Easter

April 26, 2026

Jesus came to give us life more abundantly.

John 10:1-10

Jesus said: "Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers." Although Jesus used this figure of speech, the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them. So Jesus said again, "Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them.
I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly."

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SESSION

Adapted from Sacred Space: The Prayer Book 2025

Presence of God: Jesus, As I come to you today, fill my heart, my whole being, with the wonder of your sacred presence. Help me to become more aware of your presence in my life, and more receptive to that presence. I desire to love you as you love me. May nothing ever separate me from you. (1-2 minutes of silence)

Freedom: Jesus, Grant me the grace to have freedom of spirit. Keep me from being bound by desires and actions that are not good for me or others. Cleanse my heart and soul that I may live joyously in your love. (1-2 minutes of silence)

Consciousness: Where am I with God? With others in my life? What am I grateful for? Is there something I am sorry for, words or actions that have hurt others, and which I now regret? I take a moment to ask forgiveness of God and of those whom I have hurt. God, I give you thanks for your constant love and care for me. Keep me always aware of your presence in my life. (2-3 minutes of silence)

OPENING PRAYER

From Thomas Merton in Entering the Silence

Good Shepherd, You have a wild and crazy sheep in love with thorns and brambles, But please don’t get tired of looking for me! I know You won’t. For You have found me. All I have to do is stay found…..

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

Pre-note: Many listeners have been put off by this imagery, thinking that the passage is telling us how stupid and needy we are. And sometimes we have been treated as such. However, the focus is really on Jesus here, on his caring and loving nature. All of us at one time or another have felt protective of someone else, and most of us, at one time or another have been gently and lovingly cared for. So once we get past our indignation at being treated like sheep, then we can focus on an image of Jesus (and God) that goes beyond fear, obedience, docility, reward, punishment and all those words that keep us from embracing true realization of God as our loving Abba. Only then an we see Jesus as someone constantly looking out for us. Only then we can take great joy and comfort in this passage. This relationship is really what the shepherd imagery is all about. We now jump from post resurrection narratives back to John 10--to a speech Jesus made to the Pharisees earlier in his ministry right after he cured the man born blind. This “jumping around” is common in the lectionary where readings are not necessarily sequential, but are often organized thematically. But why insert this speech here? John Harrington, S.J, said: through his resurrection the slain Lamb has become for straying sheep “the shepherd and guardian of your souls.” This startling transformation is a neat summary of what Christians believe about the paschal mystery. I also think it is to remind us that Jesus’s whole life had a mission, a purpose.

From First Impressions 2023, a service of the Southern Dominican Province: Have you checked the titles on the non-fiction best sellers’ list these days? If you’re looking for a book here are the titles of four of the top 10 on the list. “Outlive” (about recent scientific research on aging and longevity); “The Body Keeps the Score” (how trauma affects the body and mind); “The Light We Carry” (Michelle Obama’s personal stories about dealing with difficult situations); “Spare” (the Duke of Sussex details his struggles, including the loss of his mother.) Notice anything? Four of the ten best sellers have something to do with spirituality—the interior life. I have a friend who signed up to receive daily brief meditations by e-mail. She says, “It’s the first thing I read at work. I take a breath, read, reflect for a moment, and then get to the hundred e-mails waiting for my immediate response. It’s crazy! My day has begun! But that moment’s reflection helps me keep my head about me, gives me a central focus on how I relate to my coworkers and my work.” It is crazy isn’t it? How busy life is, and how much comes at us each day. There is so much to distract us and keep us from paying attention to what’s really going on in our lives. So says an article on spirituality written a while back in, of all places, “The Wall Street Journal.” (I guess that’s the Bible of sorts for some people.) The article was entitled, “The Sounds of Silence.” And it was about just what the title suggests. It lamented the loss of our interior lives, the absence of some silence, because we are so distracted all the time by noise— especially produced by electronic diversions. You know: I Phones, MP3 players, cell phones, video games, etc. There’s no escaping! Plus, we always seem to be surrounded by sound tracks and video displays which invade our space in malls, elevators, restaurants and other public places. Imagine: a writer in the Wall Street Journal suggesting we need more silence and solitude! He says we don’t have to become monks or nuns; but we do need conditions that help us sort things out, because otherwise, we are distracted and the more distracted we are, the more distracted we’ll become. The bottom line: we have to distinguish what’s “idle chatter” coming at us from the outside, misguiding us (throwing us off center), from what our true inner voice is saying to us. A voice which is trying to keep us focused and on center. There weren’t cell phones and emails in Jesus’ day. But they were a lot like us, also drawn by competing voices. Every generation needs a voice we can trust, to inspire us and help us set the pattern of our lives. Using the image of a caring and guiding shepherd Jesus presents himself to us as that trustworthy voice. He calls his disciples and us today, to be attentive to his voice and separate it from all the other voices that tug on us and draw us here and there. His voice, he says, will keep us together and also guide us on our journey. Using the image of the gospel today—his voice will guard our “coming in and going out.” That describes our lives doesn’t it? We are on a journey. There are very few periods when things are smooth and unchanging for long. We journey through childhood into adulthood; through changes in jobs and careers. We enter into and, sometimes out of, relationships. We pass through periods of health and then illness and, we hope, health again. And of course, there is the inevitable journey we take from youth to adulthood, to old-age and then death. All along we make choices: some are well made, others we wish we could take back and do all over again. There are a lot of voices out there that only distract and scatter us. They really don’t care how, or where we end up, or whether were going around in circles. Perhaps we’ve paid too much attention to them. They don’t have our best interests at heart, as long as: we buy what they’re selling; choose what everyone else chooses; live with the same values as those around us, (the least common denominator); and don’t stand out from the crowd. But the Shepherd, Jesus tells us, wants to gather us. He wants to give us rest from futility and wasted energies. His voice can help us keep our wits about us in our often-misguided world. There’s a lot to maneuver through in life. Lots of big and small decisions to make along the way, some of which can alter our lives and have long-term effects. The question is: what and who will help us make these decisions? Where do we turn for clarity and consistency? Jesus is inviting us again to be more attentive to him because he has invested his life in us. He wants to help us along life’s journey: our journey towards God; our journey to become more trusting; our journey to become more patient with ourselves and others; our journey to become less controlling; our journey to put the past behind us and start afresh; our journey to become more forgiving. There were many hints in John of what this purpose was, and who Jesus was, but there is a hope here that after realizing the importance of the resurrection as an event, we must also realize that it is part of the entire mission of Jesus, and therefore, the mission of all his disciples down through the ages: to care for one another as a shepherd does the sheep, and to bring life in abundance, wherever and whenever we can, to those around us.

LIVING THE GOOD NEWS

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion? Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions which follow.

Reflection Questions

Have you ever defined yourself in terms of whom/what you were not? (I am NOT a stupid sheep, thank you very much!)
What was the purpose of doing so?

How do you usually respond to the biblical imagery of sheep and shepherds?
Is it helpful?
Or does it put you off?

In Jesus’ time, sheep on the range (as opposed to in the villages) were often penned in after dark, with walls of wood, vines and branches and a small opening for them to get in or out. The shepherd stretched himself across that opening as a “gate” so that sheep could not get out or human and animal marauders get in. Does this idea affect your image of Jesus as the gate of his sheep?
Have you ever thought of Jesus protecting you in times of uncertainty, danger or trouble?

Again, in Jesus’ time, many flocks were penned together, especially in the villages. It was uncanny how the sheep recognized their own shepherd by his voice and followed only him. What in our culture keeps us from hearing the voice of the good shepherd?
How do we distinguish His voice from all of the other voices that clamor for our attention (our prevailing culture, advertisers, messages from our childhood, for example)?

Have you ever been nurtured in your faith life by someone who had your best interests at heart?

How someone speaks to us can be life-giving or harsh and destructive… What has generally been the quality of things spoken to me—harsh and unforgiving, or inviting and nurturing, calling me to growth and to life?
What is the quality of my messages to others?

From “Sacred Space”, a service of the Irish Jesuits: What lifts your spirit, satisfies your soul, gives you lasting peace and fills you with life?
What drains you, steals your energy, leaves you lifeless and empty?
Native Americans have been known to tell their children that deeply imbedded in our hearts are two wolves each wanting to kill the other… the child is meant to ask:” And who wins? The parent wisely answers: “The one you feed the most.”.
What wolf am I feeding?

In what ways am I only half-alive (boredom, pain, loneliness, sadness)?
When have I felt gloriously alive?
What does it mean to me to be alive in Christ?

Walter Burghardt, SJ. said: “Eternal life does not begin at death, it begins when we believe.” Or as John 17 puts it: Eternal life consists in this; that they know you, the only true Go, and the one you sent, Jesus Christ.”
Do I realize I am living in eternal life right now?

Am I called to shepherd any others in my life?
What are the demands of such a calling?
How did I feel about this task?

CLOSING PRAYER

Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.

Lord, today I especially pray for all those whom I have shepherded in this life so far. Help me to nurture them gently, help me to protect them where I can, and end their sorrow and hurts when they have strayed. Help me to be understanding of other’s mistakes, knowing I have made many myself. Give me the wisdom to understand that, unlike you, Lord, I do not always know what is best for everyone. Give me the power to protect those in my care insofar as I am able. Help me to let them run free when I need to give them freedom and the power to make their own decisions, and even their own mistakes.

WEEKLY MEMORIZATION

Taken from the gospel for today’s session.

I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.

FOR THE WEEK AHEAD

Meditations

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship: One translation of Psalm 23 is: The Lord is my Shepherd, he keeps me from wanting what I can’t have.” “And what you thought you came for is only a shell, a husk of meaning from which the purpose breaks only when it is fulfilled, if at all. Either you had no purpose or the purpose is beyond the end you figured and is altered in fulfillment.” (T.S. Eliot: “Little Gidding’) I make a list of all the things I want at this moment. Then I think of something that I really wanted that I didn’t get; and something that I didn’t even want that somehow came my way. How have these things impacted my life for good or for ill? Have I been able to see the hand of God working things out for the best? I go back to the list of things I want and offer each one to the wisdom of the Shepherd’s providence.

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action: Read Psalm 23, then transpose the words so that you are speaking directly to God. ( i.e. Lord, you are my good shepherd, I shall not want. Rich and green are the pastures where you give me repose, etc). Savor each phrase as you speak from your heart to the God who loves you and wants what is best for you, the Lord who wants you to be happy in your relationship with your God. Then Imagine God Speaking the words of this psalm to you directly: “I am your good shepherd, you shall want nothing.” At the end, take time simply to be silent and rest in the immensity of God’s loving embrace.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions: What does it mean to you to “have life”? How about “life in abundance”? Does this mean that you should always expect to be rich, healthy, important, successful? Does it mean that you should always love what you do, be excited about your life, be happy all the time? Reflect on these passages that have cropped up throughout the whole gospel of John, which is focused on this gift of life: “In him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (1:4). “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” (3:1). “I am the resurrection and the Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live” (11:25). “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (17:3). “But these are written so that you may believe… and that through believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). What lifts your spirit, satisfies your soul and gives you lasting peace and fills you with life? Insert your definition/expectation of the promise to have life in abundance….remembering to give thanks for all the benefits of abundant life you have received.

POETIC REFLECTIONS

Read this poem by Ed Ingebretzen, S.J. This is another way of looking as Jesus as our good shepherd.

A Story That Will Save Us
Tell us a story that will save us
(and that will have been enough)
all the great songs have been prayed
save only one
Tell us a story that will save us
Go down Lord,
& bring us home
May our promises free us
not chain us
May what we desire fill us
not entrap us
May those persons we love finish us
not bind us
Go down Lord,
& bring us home
You are our history, Lord
We neither begin nor end
outside you
May you be for us not weapon,
not answer, but cause of peace
May our questions show us not division
but the smallness of human answers.
Go down, Lord
& bring us home
May our words create
Not destroy
May our hands nurture
Not break
May our dreams lead and encourage us
Not trap us in despair
Go down, Lord
& bring us home
We are anxious about many things
We are lost in many ways
Go down, Lord
& bring us home

A humorous take on Psalm 23 for students:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not flunk;
He keepeth me from lying down when I should be studying.
He leadeth me beside the water cooler for a study break;
He restoreth my faith in study guides.
He leads me to better study habits
For my grade’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of borderline grades,
I will not have a nervous breakdown;
For Thou art with me.
My prayers and my friends, they comfort me.
Thou givest me answers in moments of blankness;
Thou anointest my head with understanding.
My test paper runneth over with questions I recognize.
Surely passing grades and flying colors shall follow me
All the days of my examinations,
And I shall not have to dwell in this university forever.
Amen!

CCAS Administrative Assistant 4/14/26 CCAS Administrative Assistant 4/14/26

3rd Sunday of Easter

April 19, 2026

How do I recognize the presence of Jesus in my life?

Luke 24:13-35

That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus' disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred. And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. He asked them, "What are you discussing as you walk along?" They stopped, looking downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply, "Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?" And he replied to them, "What sort of things?" They said to him, "The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him. But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel; and besides all this, it is now the third day since this took place. Some women from our group, however, have astounded us: they were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find his body; they came back and reported that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who announced that he was alive. Then some of those with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women had described, but him they did not see." And he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are!
How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures. As they approached the village to which they were going, he gave the impression that he was going on farther. But they urged him, "Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over." So he went in to stay with them. And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them.
With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other,
"Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?" So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem where they found gathered together the eleven and those with them who were saying,
"The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!" Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way
and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL

First Impressions by Jude Siciliano, OP

Acts 2:14,22-33; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 24:13-35

While we might love the New Testament stories, especially those where Jesus heals or offers forgiveness to needy “outsiders,” there are some that we could label “classics.” Today’s gospel might be called a classic tale. The resurrected Jesus appears to two disheartened disciples, confused and perplexed by the tragic, heartbreaking events of recent days. What happened to these disciples back in Jerusalem confused and disappointed them. It made no sense to them. Perhaps there are events in our families, communities, or the world that confuse us as well. How do we explain events that leave us uncertain? We pray, yet our prayers do not seem to be answered. Our hopes for family, health, unity in our church, or peace in the world do not unfold as we hoped. Still, we keep walking, carrying our disappointments and questions with us. In other words, we are confused disciples on our own road to Emmaus. Let us join the two in the gospel story; perhaps what they discover and learn will help us on our own journey. What is striking in our gospel account is that Jesus comes alongside the two disheartened disciples and, at first, they do not recognize him. He listens to their story, letting them express their disappointment and confusion. Where was their glorious God in the defeat of Jesus? They had hoped he would redeem Israel; instead, Jesus seemed to have let them down. Their dreams were shattered, so they left Jerusalem – the former place of hope – talking about their loss. Many of us can recognize that walk. We have all had moments when our faith felt uncertain; when prayers seemed futile and unanswered; when hopes for ourselves, our families, the church, or the world did not unfold as we had hoped. Like those two disciples, we keep walking, carrying questions and disappointment with us. Jesus often meets us where he met the two travelers to Emmaus – in the course of our own travels. He listens to our sadness; we are invited to tell our stories. We do not hold back as we speak out of our own sorrow. How does Jesus help us come to faith when things seem dire? He does for us what he did for the two: he opens the Scriptures to help us see that God is still at work and has not deserted us to suffering and apparent defeat. Do we expect flashes of light or a thundering voice of God to address our doubts and disenchantment? No – Christ meets us quietly and patiently at surprising moments: in our conversations, daily routines, exchanges with others, and even in our own doubts. At first it may be hard to recognize him in those moments, but later we come to say, “Were not our hearts burning within us?” When did things change for the two on the road? When they said to Jesus, “Stay with us,” and when they sat at table with him. He broke the bread, and their eyes were opened – not in a miraculous or grand display, but in the familiar gesture of broken and shared bread. For Luke’s community, and for us, the message is clear. We encounter the risen Christ in Word and Eucharist, in community and hospitality. They asked him, “Stay with us…,” and he did. Notice what happened next after he revealed himself to them. The two disciples did not stay on their path to Emmaus. They returned to Jerusalem, back to the community they had left. They had encountered the risen Lord, and that encounter sent them back – not only to the community, but to the troubled and confused world they had tried to leave. That might seem surprising. Why not simply go back to their homes, believe in Jesus, and say their prayers? Instead, faith moved them from discouragement to mission, from isolation to community. Faith does that for us too. Our Emmaus story offers us both reassurance and challenge. Christ walks with us even when we do not recognize him. He speaks to us through Scripture and shared prayer. He reveals himself in the breaking of the bread and then sends us back into the world with renewed hope because of the message we have heard and the bread we have shared. As we are told at the end of our Eucharist: “The Mass has ended; go in peace.” Or “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord.” So, the question after Emmaus is not only, “Did they recognize Jesus?” but “How will they live now that they have?” The early Christians faced that very question once the excitement of the resurrection encounter settled into daily life. They had to learn how to live their faith in ordinary routines, in challenging circumstances, and sometimes in societies that did not understand them. That is where our second reading speaks to us today. Let us look briefly at our second reading from the First Letter of St. Peter. He is speaking to early Christians scattered throughout Asia Minor. They were living in a pagan culture, often feeling like outsiders because of their faith. They were trying to live Christian lives in societies that did not share their values. Sound familiar? Peter calls them “sojourners,” or “exiles,” not because they were literally foreigners everywhere, but because their deepest loyalty – their true citizenship – belonged to God. In many ways their situation mirrors ours, especially as we try to live faithfully in a world with priorities different from our own. Peter reminds them that they were living between resurrection and fulfillment. Like us in this Easter season, they believed and trusted that the risen Christ was enabling them to live their daily lives in hope. Peter is speaking to believers like us who are trying to be faithful in a complicated world. They had to decide what truly lasts and what fades away. So do we. The resurrection tells us that love, mercy, faith, and hope – unlike many things in the world – are not perishable. They endure, and their fruits sustain us. “Perishable things” are not only money or property. They include reputation, comfort, control, youth, success, and even our carefully constructed plans. All these might be good, but none can save us or give us lasting peace. In this Easter season, Peter’s message is both freeing and challenging. We have been saved by something imperishable. Therefore, we are invited to live with lighter hands, deeper trust, and greater compassion. We are called to invest in what lasts: faith, reconciliation, mercy, and service to others. These are treasures that do not fade.

Quotable

“Hope has two beautiful daughters: their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain as they are.” – Augustine of Hippo

Justice Bulletin Board by Barbara Molinari Quinby, MPS, Director Office of Human Life, Dignity, and Justice Ministries Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral; Raleigh, NC

You were ransomed from your futile conduct. —1 Peter 1:18

There is a lot of duality in all three readings today. The First Reading presents Peter as a changed man. The Second Reading addresses Christian communities with their dual challenge to be uprooted from what they were familiar with and face alienation in a society that misunderstood their newfound religious beliefs. Then, in the Gospel, we have two disciples meeting the Risen Christ. This enduring presence of the risen Christ among his disciples then and his disciples now, radically re-creates their lives and our lives. We have been ransomed from our futile conduct. Do you see the duality? We were once one kind of a person but now we are another. Not only do we have all these ancient witnesses, but we also have the actions of God in our lives AND the promise that our souls will not be abandoned to the netherworld. Our life, like Peter, is a transformed one. This past Lenten season, we have been presented many opportunities to choose a life of merciful service to the poor, the disadvantaged, and to care for the suffering natural world. It is as counter-cultural to help the least of these today as it was in Jesus’ time. Our culture screams at us, “Me, me, me.” The “selfies” photo phenomenon grows stronger. Making it on your own is admired while community life is looked upon as weakness. Introspection is in short supply. In this transformational period of Easter time, we should continue to ask ourselves:

“Who am I?”
“Who is God?”
“Why am I here?”
“What am I to do with my life as a transformed follower of Jesus?”

As Pope Leo writes in Dilexi Te: Christians too, on a number of occasions, have succumbed to attitudes shaped by secular ideologies or political and economic approaches that lead to gross generalizations and mistaken conclusions. The fact that some dismiss or ridicule charitable works, as if they were an obsession on the part of a few and not the burning heart of the Church’s mission, convinces me of the need to go back and re-read the Gospel, lest we risk replacing it with the wisdom of this world. The poor cannot be neglected if we are to remain within the great current of the Church’s life that has its source in the Gospel and bears fruit in every time and place. Be transformed and, together, we can transform the world.

Faith Book

Mini-reflections on the Sunday scripture readings designed for persons on the run. “Faith Book” is also brief enough to be posted in the Sunday parish bulletins people take home.

From today’s Gospel: They said to him, “The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him. But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel.”

Reflection: Hope is the virtue that enables us to dream big dreams and work to put them into reality. But we often need our hopes nourished, because if what we hope for is important----peace, care for the elderly, an end to the death penalty, a rejuvenated and healed church, good liturgy and preaching in our parish, housing for the elderly, an end to domestic violence, equality of women and gays in our churches and communities, fair treatment for immigrants, and so much more—then we will need encouragement, perseverance, passion, clear thinking and the support of a believing and hoping community. We need the Word of God, the Eucharist and a faith community that shares our dreams and gives us hope.

And so we ask ourselves:

When I am discouraged, who gives me hope?
Who are the people in the world who kindle hope in me and challenge me to persevere in my good works?

Walking and Listening to Others

“And they recounted how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”

There are times in our lives when things happen either to us or to others we love; and we get frustrated and disappointed in God; maybe even we get mad at God. We certainly do not understand God’s ways. It happens to all of us who have lived long enough. In those moments of suffering, our frustrated response can be explicit or implicit. Explicit is when we just turn around and say “I don’t want anything to do with God.” When God’s name comes up, we just don’t want to talk about it; we actively avoid talking to God or God being talked about in our presence. There are also implicit ways that we do it. We don’t do anything necessarily bad; we just stop doing things. We get busy doing other things. We sort of ignore God by default more than explicitly wanting to have nothing to do with God. The seeds of either are the same: we ignore God. The question is what does God do in those moments with us? How does God minister to us; or how is he present to us? Today’s scripture tells us exactly what happens. Remember these are the disciples who walked with Jesus. They knew Jesus personally. They were his closest allies. They were not one of the twelve apostles but they would have been part of the group that was around him. When Jesus was crucified, they all absconded. They all abandoned him lest we think it was the other way around. They abandoned him and then they got mad at him. They got mad that he wasn’t the messiah. And you could see the frustration in today’s reading. There is powerful symbolism in Luke’s gospel that gives us to key to unlock the meaning of this gospel. Jerusalem is the City of God and Emmaus is considered like Sin City; think Las Vegas. They are walking away from the Holy City of God and walking toward Emmaus, which means that they are walking away from the Church. What does Jesus do? Remember this is the post-Resurrection Jesus. He has risen from the dead. He is glorified. He doesn’t stop them and say, “Hey. Stop. You’re going the wrong way. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. No. Listen. Look. It’s me. Look. Look. It’s me.” No. He didn’t do any of that. He just walks with them as they walk away. He walks with them as they walk away and listens to their story the whole time. He doesn’t scold them. He doesn’t stop them. He doesn’t challenge them. And as soon as they were done telling their story, only then, did he break open what he had heard them say; and related himself to the scriptures and says: “Oh, how foolish you were; you didn’t see.” And he helps them to focus once again, to look again at what they have seen with a different eyes. And once they see with different eyes, they start to experience it first; their hearts were burning within them but they didn’t recognize him at first. It was only in the breaking of the bread. And then, what it says, “and he vanished from their sight.” So, where did he go? We see in the breaking of the bread, which we will do in just a few moments, we believe that in the receiving of the bread they became him. It isn’t that he vanished. They became the living Body of Christ for others. What did they do after that? They didn’t just go back to Jerusalem; they ran back to Jerusalem. Their conversion was immediate and urgent. This is what God does to us; Jesus accompanies us. He will walk with us as we walk away from Church or faith. We are all here. Right? But there are others who are not here. And Jesus is walking with those as they walk to the periphery of their lives. The question is how does that happen? What does that look like? It is usually in the form of one of us. It is usually in the form of somebody else. We need to be willing to walk with them to the periphery. Ministry just doesn’t only happen at the center of a life; it happens also at the periphery of our life. Barbara Taylor Brown is a great episcopal priest who writes beautiful poetry and books. She talks about the map of the journey of faith. There is a center and there are edges to that map. Ministry happens in both places. While Mother Church focuses most of its attention at the center; the greatest stories of conversion happen at the edges and then the center becomes the custodians of those stories. Our role as disciples is to go to the edges. Our role is to attend to those who are struggling with their faith; who have gone to the edges of their own lives. This is all great theology but how does that happen in our own lives? What does that look like? Let me give you just one example: There was a time I walked away explicitly from God in anger. My best friend was killed in a plane crash. I was 24 years old, and we were inseparable friends. I was so mad at God, once the funeral was over, I was done. I didn’t want to go back to Church. I would not talk to God. I would not listen. And I most certainly would not come to a Church. I was furiously mad at God. Then I immigrated to America, and I lived with my brother, Paul. Every single Sunday, my brother Paul would go to 7pm Mass down at Queen of Apostles. I used to live in Sunnyvale. And every single Sunday before he’d ask, “Do you want to come to Church?” And I’d go “grrrrrrrrrrr” All sorts of stuff would come out of my mouth and generally it would be a no in so many words! And he would go off to Mass. Then he would come back and never say anything. Every Sunday, he would ask, “Do you want to go to Mass?” He would brace himself for the answer. He kept on doing it. Kept on doing it. Until, one Sunday, I was so frustrated in my own life and lonely, realizing that I really needed God and I was starving myself pointlessly. He said, “Do you want to go to Church?” I said, “Yeah. Sure.” And I’ve been going to Church every Sunday ever since. God was present in my life through Paul. He kept on gently asking. He was present every single day of my life. All that time, he was loving me even though I was wounded and hurt, broken, angry and frustrated. But he kept on showing up and kept on inviting me. No guilt. Just love. Just a tender, caring love of showing up every single week. Every single day of my life. There are people in our lives who have lost faith with God. They have lost a relationship with God. They got angry and frustrated like the disciples on the way to Emmaus and like me in my younger years. There are two things that we need to do: Our role is to be on the periphery, on the edge of the map at the journey of life. It is to minister to them. We come back to the center on Sunday to be filled at the table of the Lord; to receive Christ in the breaking of the bread. Yes. That is our privilege. That is our grace. But we must go to feed those on the periphery, on the edge and we must go gently and kindly. We must be willing to just love them where they are at; and gently invite them week after week; knowing that we are the risen Christ to them, listening to their story. Don’t judge. Just listen to their story and love them. And when given the opportunity, invite. For those who are maybe online who are not here in person and maybe feel like they are on the edge, I ask you to be open to somebody in your life who is loving you; who is the presence of Christ now; who is loving you where you are on the periphery of your life. Allow them to be Christ to you and maybe accept the offer or the invitation to come to Church; or to pray a little bit more with the Lord; to be present to him; to listen and to accept that invitation. Whatever is our response, we are called to be both open to the Risen Lord in our own life when we get to the periphery and get angry at God; and also are called to be the Risen Christ to others. Gently. Kindly. Ever so lovingly being present to them. Loving them where they are at the edge of their life. So that they can know that God loves them. That God is there for them in the breaking of the bread.

PREPARATION FOR THE SESSION

Adapted from Sacred Space: The Prayer Book 2025

Presence of God: Jesus, As I come to you today, fill my heart, my whole being, with the wonder of your sacred presence. Help me to become more aware of your presence in my life, and more receptive to that presence. I desire to love you as you love me. May nothing ever separate me from you. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)

Freedom: Jesus, Grant me the grace to have freedom of spirit. Keep me from being bound by desires and actions that are not good for me or others. Cleanse my heart and soul that I may live joyously in your love. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)

Consciousness: Where am I with God? With others in my life? What am I grateful for? Is there something I am sorry for, words or actions that have hurt others, and which I now regret? I take a moment to ask forgiveness of God and of those whom I have hurt. God, I give you thanks for your constant love and care for me. Keep me always aware of your presence in my life. (2-3 minutes of silence)

OPENING PRAYER

Lord, I know I walk with you, but I do not always recognize you. Help me to find you through prayer and the scriptures, and especially through service to those who might need my help and comfort. Trust me to do for others what you do for me.

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

From “First Impressions”, A service of the Southern Dominican Province.

Some people who go through a crisis, like a sudden illness, or the death of a loved one, will struggle in their faith and wonder: “Where is God?” “Has God abandoned me?” Or even, “Why is God doing this to me?” When people in crisis hear the Easter accounts, like today’s gospel, they get a case of the, “If only’s...” “If only I had been there with those frightened disciples when Jesus suddenly appeared in their midst, then I would have strong faith.” “If only I had seen his wounded hands and feet, I would have shared with him my own hurts.” “If only I had watched him eat that baked fish by the side of the lake, I would have told him of my own hunger.” Luke’s account of the disciples’ encounter with Jesus on the road is certainly one of the most beautiful in the New Testament. It is a story of two people who were so focused on the past they couldn’t see what was right before their eyes. With the death of Jesus their world collapsed. Walking away from Jerusalem they were also walking away from their dreams. They were going back into darkness, as they tell the stranger who has joined them, “It is nearly evening and the day is almost over.” They weren’t just speaking about the time of the day. They were returning to their old lives, it seemed nothing had changed and things appeared pretty dark for them. When Jesus joined them on their journey Luke tells us, “...their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.” What caused their blindness? Why didn’t they recognize the one they had been following, with whom they had shared their lives? Maybe it was because they had their own idea of what they wanted Jesus to be, some kind of king, or a warrior on a mighty stallion who would vanquish the Romans. “We were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel.” But Jesus was right there in front of them, in the flesh, to show he was alive. Wasn’t that enough? Apparently not, since they didn’t recognize him. Luke wrote his gospel between the years 80-90. The Emmaus account Is in the last chapter of his gospel. Neither he, nor his contemporaries, had experienced the risen Christ the way the first disciples had. Like us, they hadn’t seen him in the flesh. Like us they needed reassurance that Christ was truly risen from the dead and was among them. Like us, life sometimes overwhelmed them, leaving them with questions, confusion and doubts. Luke needed to show his contemporaries how their faith could be strengthened; how Jesus wasn’t a past-tense phenomenon, merely a great historical figure now long gone. We have walked the road to Emmaus. We know how long it is; how it twists and turns; how it doubles back on itself; how confusing it can be; how we can feel lost, even forgotten. The road to Emmaus is a road of fallen expectations. Haven’t there been times in our lives when we have said, “If only I had....” Or, “I wish I hadn’t....”? When we even uttered the words of the dejected travelers, “We were hoping....” When a marriage didn’t last… a personal goal never realized... a child went off the deep end... an illness severely limited our capabilities. Times like these, the words of the two disciples are ours as well, “We were hoping....” By the way he tells his story Luke is helping his contemporary Christians and us see the risen Christ with us. Notice the important elements: Jesus begins by explaining the Scriptures to them. In other words, the biblical Word of God is proclaimed and explained so that new insight is given to the disciples. Then, as we do in worship, after having the Word of God opened for them, the needy disciples gather around the table with Jesus where bread is blessed, broken and given to them. In both this gospel and the Acts of the Apostles (his second volume) Luke uses the term, “the breaking of the bread” -- which was, and still, is a term used for the Eucharist. Luke is describing the encounter with the resurrected Christ in terms of the community’s liturgical experience. With them our “eyes are opened” and we meet the risen Lord when we gather to hear the Word of God and “break the bread” together.

LIVING THE GOOD NEWS

Reflection Questions:
On my journey, what hopes have I had?
Have I ever wondered if it is all worth it?
What have been my disappointments?
Have I ever wondered if I matter?

Have I ever found myself walking away from a situation, a relationship or even my religion, because nothing had worked and I did not know how to go on?
Did my disappointment and regrets keep me from seeing the possibilities right in front of me?

How was hope and energy restored to me?
What was the role of another in helping me turn around?
Did focusing on the needs of someone around me help me pull out of a self-defeating funk?
What was the role of my religion or the scriptures in giving me comfort or a new direction?

Has there been a special companion on my journey of faith?

Has there been a time in my life when I was discouraged and then my eyes were opened to discover that Jesus was actually walking with me?

Has there ever been a time in my ordinary life that Christ was actually there, but I did not notice him?
Is Christ there now?

What is the difference between seeing and recognizing?
In the Eucharist we do not see Jesus, but we recognize him….is that true for me?
In the people I meet every day,I might not see Jesus, but do I recognize him in them?

The late renowned homilist Walter Burghardt, S.J., wrote that recognition for the disciples came in three stages: when they were walking together and sharing their disappointments; then when the stranger in their midst began interpreting the scriptures for them; and finally, after their invitation to dine, they recognized him fully in the breaking of the bread. So too, we can recognize Christ when we gather together, when we read, hear and try to understand scripture—either alone or in our small groups, and finally, at the Eucharistic table. Do I have a sense of coming to gradual recognition of Jesus in my life?
Do I realize that this is not a one-time process, but one that recurs all throughout my spiritual life?

Like the journey of the disciples to Emmaus, our life is a faith journey. Where am I in my journey, and what do I need to help me along the way?
On my journey, what have been some high points that caused “my heart to burn within me?”
What have been some signs of God present in my life?
How do I listen to and wrestle with scripture?
Is the Eucharist central to my relationship with Jesus?

Do I trust God enough to pour out my heart to Him?

C.S. Lewis, in a homily called “The Weight of Glory”, said: “Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses….for in your neighbor is Christ.” Do I actually see my neighbor as Christ in my own life?

Have there ever been Easter moments in my life?

PRAYER

Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.

Stay with me Lord, for it is toward evening. The busy world is hushed, the fever of the day is over, and the work of my day is done. As you walked with me, beside me every minute today, be with me in my rest. Give me comfort and repose this day. I hope to do the same for others I need along the way.

WEEKLY MEMORIZATION

Taken from the gospel for today’s session: Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.

FOR THE WEEK AHEAD

Meditations

A Meditation in the IgnatianStyle/Imagination: Read the story of the journey to Emmaus (Luke 24: 13-32) Try to imagine what the apostles have been doing and how they have been feeling over the last two days. Then picture yourself in their place as they walk down that road to Emmaus. What do you see? hear? What are your feelings about all that has happened? Picture the scene as a strange man walks up to you and begins to ask about your feelings. How would you respond? Why do you not recognize Jesus? Imagine your feelings as you share the story of what the women told you, and then again as Jesus talks to you. Imagine the moment of surprise and joy as you recognize Jesus. How do you feel about seeing Jesus “alive?” Talk to Jesus as you would if you had actually been there that day, telling him of your sadness and then your happiness.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions: T.S. Eliot, in “the Dry Salvages” poem of “Four Quartets”, wrote,
“We had the experience, but missed the meaning,
And approach to the meaning restores the experience
In a different form, beyond any meaning we can assign to happiness.”
Recognition of Jesus was not a magic act that was indisputable proof of his divinity, nor was it only open to those with brains or money, or religious position. Walter Burghardt, S.J. commented that recognition of Jesus was only open to believers. What, then, is needed, is grace freely offered and a response on the part of the believer. Note that even Jesus’ special friends could not recognize Jesus for much of their journey What is the difference between seeing and recognizing?
Have I ever had an experience, the importance of which was lost on me at the moment, but which I understood much later?
We each have different ways to come to recognition: the beauty of MemChu; a community of shared belief and prayer life; love of spouse, child, friends, parents, even pets; the selflessness of health workers and first responders, the kindness of another; the joy exhibited by a young child; memories of loved ones. Has this ever happened in my spiritual experience? Spend a little time thinking of the ways in which you might come to recognize God’s love and the presence of Jesus in your midst.

A Meditation in the Dominican style/Asking Questions: (Adapted from Sacred Space, a service of the Irish Jesuits) In looking at this Gospel, we see that all the ingredients of the Christian life are here. Where do you find yourself in this scenario?

Running away from where Christ is to be found. We do it all the time.
Meeting Jesus in the unexpected place or person or situation. How many times does this happen and we do not recognize him, or worse mistreat him?
Finding the real meaning and identity of Jesus and his mission in having the Scriptures fully explained. Without the Scriptures we cannot claim to know Jesus. Yet how many Catholics go through life hardly ever opening a bible?
Recognizing Jesus in the breaking of bread, in our celebration of the Eucharist. The breaking and sharing of the bread indicates the essentially community dimension of that celebration, making it a real “com-union” with all present.
The central experience of Scripture and Liturgy draws us to participate in the work of proclaiming the message of Christ and sharing our experience of it with others that they may also share it.
The importance of hospitality and kindness to the stranger. “I was hungry… and you did/did not feed…” Jesus is especially present and to be found and loved in the very least of my brothers and sisters.

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:
Can I see the face of Jesus wherever I look—
in the sick and the dying?
in the health care workers?
in the grocery store clerks?
in those defying safe-distance protocols?
in the person whose political views I despise?
in the homeless?
in the people who don’t look like me, speak like me, pray like me?
I spend this week making sure that I can find the face of Jesus in everyone I meet—without exception!

POETIC REFLECTION

Could you imagine yourself in this situation?

The Servant Girl at Emmaus — A Painting by Velasquez
She listens, listens, holding
her breath. Surely that voice
is his--the one
who had looked at her, once, across the crowd,
as no one had ever looked?
Had seen her? Had spoken as if to her?
Surely those hands were his,
taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?
Surely that face--
The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
The man it was rumored now some women had see this morning, alive?
Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
But she is in the kitchen, absently touching the winejug she’s to take in,
a young black servant intently listening,
swings round and sees
the light around him
and is sure.
—Denise Levertov from The Stream and the Sapphire

LITERARY REFLECTION

How does this poem by Thom Gunn reflect what the apostles needed after Jesus’ death? How does it reflect what we may need when we have lost someone?

The Reassurance
About ten days or so
After we saw you dead
You came back in a dream.
I’m all right now you said.
And it was you, although
You were fleshed out again:
You hugged us all round then,
And gave your welcoming beam.
How like you to be kind,
seeking to reassure.
And yes, how like my mind
To make itself secure.

CCAS Administrative Assistant 4/8/26 CCAS Administrative Assistant 4/8/26

2nd Sunday of Easter — Divine Mercy Sunday

April 12, 2026

Faith in Jesus might be hard-won, but it strengthens us for the journey of life.

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” Now, 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 Christ, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL

First Impressions by Jude Siciliano, OP

Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 118; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

In the Catholic community today, the Second Sunday of Easter is called “Sunday of Divine Mercy.” Actually, any Sunday could be called Divine Mercy Sunday—or any Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, etc. Today we are invited to see the Resurrection not only as a victory over death, but as the opening of God’s heart in mercy. The Gospel today (John 20:19–31) shows mercy in action through the risen Jesus Christ and his encounter with his fearful disciples and with “the doubter,” Thomas the Apostle. Note the encouraging details in today’s story. The disciples are hiding in fear, shame, and uncertainty. Yet Jesus does not wait for them to get their act together and become brave or faithful. Instead, he comes to them as they are and says, “Peace be with you.” On this Divine Mercy Sunday, the Word proclaims that God’s mercy reaches us where we are – in our locked rooms of grief, regrets, failures, and anxieties. He reassures them, and us, that we do not have to be perfect to receive God’s mercy. The risen Christ comes to fearful hearts, not just to faithful ones. Jesus breathes the Spirit on the disciples and gives them the ministry of sharing what he has given them – the ministry of forgiveness. “Receive the Holy Spirit; whose sins you forgive are forgiven them….” We are not only forgiven and comforted today for our failures as Christ’s disciples; we are also given a mission. We believers become a people called to extend patience, reconciliation, and compassion in families, workplaces, schools, and parish life. Mercy is the Church’s identity, not just one of our devotions. We knock on the door of one who has offended us. When they ask, “Who’s there?” we answer, “It is I, a forgiving person, and I have come to forgive.” However, mercy also makes room for doubt. The disciples, like Thomas, have doubts, questions, and struggles. Jesus did not reject Thomas, nor does he reject us. He invites us to touch his wounds. On this Divine Mercy Sunday, our faith community must be a safe place for honest questions – yes, even our own honest questions and fragile faith. Have you ever shared your doubts with another member of your faith community? Did you receive a compassionate hearing, without judgment or the imposition of guilt? Who does not have doubts, especially during personal struggles that push our faith to its limits? Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it can be the doorway to deeper faith. The bottom line: mercy listens before it judges. The wounds of Christ have not disappeared; they are the source of mercy. Jesus shows them to Thomas. His wounds are not erased by the Resurrection; they are transformed into signs of love. As Pope John Paul II taught, the mercy of God flows from the wounded heart of Christ. This has consequences for us, the faith community. Our own wounds can become places of grace. God’s mercy does not deny suffering. Jesus comes into a fearful, broken community and redeems it. His first word to them—and to us—is “Peace.” He speaks the same word three times: “Peace.” This is his first Easter gift—not certainty, not triumph, but peace in the midst of fear and anxiety. We are reminded today that resurrection faith grows in real life, not in ideal conditions. We are consoled by the story of Thomas the Apostle. He voices what we may feel: our disappointment and our need for assurance. Still, Jesus does not reject him. He returns a week later and meets Thomas exactly where he is. This tells us that the Lord is patient with our slow faith. He keeps coming back to us, Sunday after Sunday, each time we gather in worship. So our prayer today can be brief and to the point: “Thank God for Thomas.” We are invited by God’s Word today to bring our fears into the assembly. The risen Christ meets us behind locked doors. Here, once again, we receive our mission: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” We are sent by Easter faith to look outward toward reconciliation and mercy. We trust the quiet presence of the risen Christ among us. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” We believers live by trust, not by dramatic signs. Today the Gospel assures us that the Easter season is not about sustaining emotional excitement, but about learning to recognize the steady presence of the risen Lord in Word, Sacrament, and community life. In short: one week after Easter, the message we receive is simple and hopeful – Christ still comes, still speaks words of peace, and still sends us out into our world, even when our faith feels unfinished.

Quotable

Pope Francis has said: “The name of God is mercy.” — From his book “The Name of God Is Mercy” (2016)
“Mercy is the very foundation of the Church’s life.” — Misericordiae Vultus (Bull of Indiction for the Jubilee of Mercy, 2015)“Where there is mercy, there is the Spirit of Jesus.” — General Audience, January 2016
“God never tires of forgiving us; we are the ones who tire of seeking his mercy.”

Justice Bulletin Board by Barbara Molinari Quinby, MPS, Director Office of Human Life, Dignity, and Justice Ministries Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral, Raleigh, NC

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who in His great mercy gave us a new birth to a living hope. — 1 Peter 1:3

Today is Divine Mercy Sunday and I am including a portion of the biography of Faustina Kowalska, the first declared saint of the 21st century, whose humble life echoed the message she received and sends to us on this day. Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, an apostle of Divine Mercy, belongs today to the group of the most popular and well-known saints of the Church. Through her, the Lord Jesus communicates to the world the great message of God’s mercy and reveals the pattern of Christian perfection based on trust in God and on the attitude of mercy toward one’s neighbor. Sister Faustina was born on August 25, 1905, in Glogowiec, Poland of a poor and religious family of peasants. From a very tender age she stood out because of her love of prayer, work, obedience, and also her sensitivity to the poor. The Lord Jesus chose Sr. Maria Faustina as the Apostle and “Secretary” of His Mercy, so that she could tell the world about His great message, which Sr. Faustina recorded in a diary she titled Divine Mercy in My Soul. In the Old Covenant He said to her: “I sent prophets wielding thunderbolts to My people. Today I am sending you with My mercy to the people of the whole world. I do not want to punish aching mankind, but I desire to heal it, pressing it to My Merciful Heart”(Diary, 1588). As you can see from my emphasis in bold above, the following statement is worth repeating, “ The pattern of Christian perfection [is] based on trust in God and on the attitude of mercy toward one’s neighbors.” The statement reminds me of a quote from the Apostolic Exhortation, The Joy of the Gospel. Pope Francis writes, “Sometimes we are tempted to be that kind of Christian who keeps the Lord’s wounds at arm’s length. Yet Jesus wants us to touch human misery, to touch the suffering flesh of others. He hopes that we will stop looking those personal or communal niches which shelter us from the maelstrom of human misfortune and instead enter into the reality of other people’s lives and know the power of tenderness. Whenever we do so, our lives become wonderfully complicated and we experience intensely what it is to be a people, to be part of a people (270).” Be merciful.

Faith Book

Mini-reflections on the Sunday scripture readings designed for persons on the run. “Faith Book” is also brief enough to be posted in the Sunday parish bulletins people take home.

From today’s 1 Peter reading: “Although you have not seen him you love him; even though you do not see him now yet believe in him, you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, as you attain the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

Reflection: This passage speaks beautifully to the heart of the Easter season. The first disciples saw the risen Christ, but most believers since then – including us – have not. Still, we gather week after week because we love and trust the Lord we cannot see. Faith becomes a way of seeing with the heart.

So, we ask ourselves:

When in my daily life do I show love and trust in Christ, even though I cannot see him?
What experiences have given me a sense of quiet joy or hope that comes from my faith?
How does my faith in the risen Lord influence the way I face difficulties, disappointments, or uncertainties?

Fr. Paul Crowley, S.J. Homily

Father Paul Crowley, S.J. taught theology in the Religious Studies Department, Graduate Program in Pastoral Ministries and at the Jesuit School of Theology. His teaching also brought him to Stanford University and the Weston School of Theology, now the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry, as a visiting professor. He was a prolific writer with numerous award-winning publications, with books on Karl Rahner, Robert McAfee Brown, pluralism in the Church, and faith and suffering. Paul was very active in his profession, having served as editor-in-chief of the prestigious journal of the Society of Jesus, Theological Studies, and as a member of its board. He also held appointments on the boards of the Catholic Theological Society of America, Boston College School of Theology and Ministry, and Jesuit School of Theology. He was good friend of the Catholic Community at Stanford, and devised two courses taught at Stanford through the Catholic Community at Stanford. This homily was posted on April 19, 2020, several months before his death from cancer on August 7, 2020.

When I was a boy, the first Sunday after Easter was known as “Low Sunday.” The previous Sunday had marked the greatest feast in the Christian year, in the Christian faith, and thus, anything following it had to be anticlimactic. Or so the thinking seemed to go. Yet, the Gospel was the same, John’s story about the doubting Thomas, and like today, Easter extended from Easter Sunday all the way to Pentecost. This year in particular, the moniker “Low” might seem appropriate enough. Easter itself felt “low” due to the shelter-in-place orders most everyone has all been faithfully observing. In fact, things are so low at this point in the Covid-19 catastrophe, that what we celebrate on Easter and in this season might get lost in the overall sense of panic that has beset many of us. For we were celebrating—remembering—the fact that in Jesus, God acted in and through suffering and death to conquer it and bring about a new creation. and that this new creation is the foundation of our hope: That even in the midst of the worst suffering, and in the face of death itself, God’s grace is constantly on offer. It is tempting to attribute this Easter faith to a Christianized version of a myth of eternal return, or a theological gloss on the obvious wonder of new life springing forth from winter’s hardened earth and appearance of death. But that is not what this is about, lovely as those images are, and even helpful in inspiring a sense of possibility, a future. For the death that was conquered in the Resurrection of Jesus was a real, bodily death. And that body was itself an outward expression of the fact that God had entered fully into the human condition in Jesus (that other feast we celebrate in December, the Incarnation). What the Incarnation tells us is that our human natures are made for this union with God, accomplished fully in Jesus, and analogously accomplished in us through a lifetime of grace ever abounding. Aquinas reminds us that the finality of a human life is in union with God, and that that human life includes the body. Of course, we are not speaking of a union of a physical body with God—an absurdity—but of the whole of our persons, symbolized by the body, in God. What makes Christian faith in the Resurrection a real thing—what anchors it—is not the sheer will to believe. It is, rather, that there is something to be discovered in this embodied existence, where Christ dwelt, with all its suffering, with the ineluctability of death: that God is found there; God resides there. And that the human, human nature, is entrée into the full reality of God. The conditions for union with God, completion in God, are set even before we are aware of that fact—or even if we are never made aware of it. But those with the gift of faith are aware of this fact, and that makes all the difference as we face death. When Jesus quite often counsels his disciples to “fear not,” he is pointing to a profoundly challenging dimension of this faith, of believing: that we can let go of our fears, even in the midst of the most terrifying suffering, because God is radically present in the realities we inhabit and is there to lead us through all of this harrowing directly into a more intense union with himself. But, accepting that is not an easy thing. In today’s Gospel, Thomas is reaching for that kind of faith. He wants to touch the wounds of Christ, not for empirical evidence of the Resurrection in a modern scientific sense, but in order to connect the Jesus he sees with the fact that Jesus is, as John reminds us at the start of his Gospel, the Word made flesh. It is this very Word-made-flesh that has now been raised from the dead. Thomas wants the complete experience of this fact—a somatic experience of the completeness of God’s work in Jesus as God’s promise for him. And his response is not one of a modern sceptic (I now have evidence, and so I’ll give it some credence); it is rather one of worship, of adoration, before the manifestation of the power of God’s love: “My Lord and my God!” For before this fact, this unity between Incarnation and Resurrection, there is a unity between our own embodied existence and God’s desire for us, his constant self-offer. We are made for this unity, this glory—for Resurrection understood as the finality of our embodied existence, the completion of our human natures in God. All that said, the suffering and death we are witnessing and will continue to witness in the Covid-19 pandemic are overpoweringly real. They admit of no sugar-coating. But no death admits of sugar-coating, especially when it is tinged with human sinfulness, as in warfare or violence. But even here we are challenged, as Thomas was, to find the reality of God—in the suffering and dying, in their bodies breaking down, in the overwhelming fatigue and frustration of generous health-care workers, in researchers looking for answers, and even in the dark recalcitrance of some “leaders” in the face of truth. If we are suffering ourselves in some real physical way, especially when it involves pain, this can make the challenge even greater. We are not disposed toward the search. We simply want to retreat, to escape. As well we might and sometimes should. But none of that empties the Resurrection of its meaning; in fact, what we are witnessing and many undergoing only reinforces it. We are now focused on our embodied lives, lives shared across artificial boundaries, and finding among ourselves a common set of hopes and ideals. Like Thomas, we want to touch others where they have been most grievously wounded. We are seeking to overcome fear, and to face the darkness in which we stand, especially through gestures of love. Some of us believe that in so doing we are walking the pathways of hope, of entry into a new creation—a new order for the human race. Or that we are at least rediscovering the patterns that are possible but too easily forgotten when we also lose sight of the full meaning of our shared embodied existence, of the transcendence of the human spirit reaching toward God, and of God’s reaching toward us in the very heart of the sufferings (and joys) that we undergo.

PREPARATION FOR THE SESSION

OPENING PRAYER

Jesus, I let you whisper to me: ”you will be blessed if you decide to believe”. And you alone know how hard it is sometimes to believe in your goodness, your mercy, and your power over sin and death. You alone know how afraid we are to trust in others, and even in your presence in our lives, sustaining us. Lord, I want to believe. Help my unbelief.

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

A reflection from Sacred Space, a sesrvice of the Irish Jesuits

The Risen Jesus meets his closest friends for the first time after they had all abandoned him in his hour of need. It must have been a moment they were all dreading. Yet his first words, twice over, were, “Peace be with you.” No rebuke, no reproach, just ‘Peace!’ And then he showed them his wounds, the unmistakable signs.
“As the Father sent me, I also send you.” While they were feeling they had failed abysmally as his disciples, he entrusted them with the same mission he had received from the Father: now they knew it was not they who had chosen him, but he had chosen them. Their mission, a mission of bringing forgiveness of sins, was to be carried out by the power of the Holy Spirit. I stand in awe in the presence of the Risen Jesus, sharing his great joy and that of his best friends at this meeting.
Thomas is an ordinary person, knotted up in his own fears and doubts. Perhaps we all carry something of his DNA? Here we are shown the transforming impact which his personal encounter with Jesus has on him. Pope Francis says: ‘I invite all Christians to a renewed personal encounter with Jesus, or at least an openness to letting him encounter them. I ask all of you to do this unfailingly each day.’
Sacred Space can be proud, because it anticipated his call by almost twenty years! Let us as a praying community continue to meet the Lord personally and help others to pray in the way we ourselves have learnt.
“These are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” The final sentence of this text underlines the purpose of the Gospel in general and of the Resurrection narrative in particular: that through faith in Jesus as the Messiah we may have life in His name.
How do you test that Faith in yourself? What strengthens that Faith? What tends to undermine that Faith? What remedy do you have to counter this?
Thomas places his hands in the wounds of Jesus, and the experience draws from him the first, ringing affirmation of Christ’s divinity: “My Lord and my God!” Fully human, and fully divine. Eternally human, eternally divine. His human nature is glorified, just as His divinity is humanised. Our human nature will be forever in Him; His divinity dwells within us, and will remain with us even to the consummation of the world.
Here we are shown twice how Jesus breaks into the lives of his friends. Can he break in on me? Where am I in these scenes? Am I hesitant like Thomas? Am I looking for some sign before committing myself to the fact that I am living in a new world, the world of the resurrection?
I let Jesus whisper to me, “You will be blessed if you decide to believe!” To believe in him is to give my heart to him, not just my head. It is not too demanding to do this, because he has already given his heart to me.
Thomas is remembered for his big words: he seemed clear about what he needed to do and what would satisfy him. Yet, faced with Jesus, we see the real Thomas who recognises his Lord and God. He seems to have forgotten his need to probe, his desire for proof. You look beyond my words, Lord, you see what is in my heart.
Help me, Lord, to be before you and to hear your word in this time of prayer. You know the needs of my mind. You have heard my words. Now, let me listen for your voice and know your presence. I lay aside my demands to receive what it is you offer to me.
Are the doors of my heart locked? Do I not expect Jesus to show up and visit me? Am I afraid – afraid that my well-ordered ways of thinking and doing things might be turned upside down if I let Jesus in? Jesus, batter my unyielding heart and break down my defences, and come in.
“Sending” is what God likes to do. Jesus is sent, the Holy Spirit is sent, and we are sent too. Jesus is sent to bring love, light and truth into the world. I too am sent. I am to bring love, light and truth into my little world. I am important to the plans of God. The world will be better if I carry out my mission.
Brave, honest Thomas had gone off to grieve on his own, so he missed that meeting with the Lord. I can taste some of his isolation and resentment in his Unless.... I will not believe. I have suffered in this way when I isolated myself from the community of faith. It is when I am stunned by sorrow that I most need the company of friends and the support of faith.
Thomas was a modern man, finding faith hard, like many people today. He was let down by the others who ran away, the leader denied Jesus, his trust in the group of apostles had been abused. He didn’t want much more to do with them. He had got tired of it all. He wanted to believe but needed a sort of proof. But faith grows within a community. That’s why we baptise children, because faith grows from the beginning of life. We find growth in our faith through the community—for example, in the Mass, shared rosary, sharing our faith in a group, a good spiritual book, sharing our doubts but never closing the door to Jesus, sharing our faith in thanks for what our faith gives us.
In community, the disciples found faith in the risen Christ. Thomas, for some reason, was not with them when the Lord came. Separated from the community, he found faith more difficult. Faith in the Lord, while personal, is not a private affair. In the faith of one, the faith of another may be strengthened. Formation in faith for the disciples had its communal experience—together they learned and found faith in the Lord.
The risen Jesus penetrates the disciples’ defences, overcomes their fears, and brings them joy. I ask him to pass through all my security systems and liberate me from whatever prevents me from “having life and having it in all its fullness.”
Jesus always brings peace and reconciliation. Saint Augustine called peace “the tranquillity of order,” meaning order in my relationships with God, with other people and within myself. Where is there lack of peace in my life? Who do I need to make peace with? Do I make space to experience God’s forgiveness and gift of peace? I ask for his peace so that I may bring others peace.
How did the others feel when Thomas challenged their testimony? Watch with them when Jesus comes to Thomas. Do they sympathise? Are they a little smug, even judgmental? Perhaps there is a lot of Thomas in me.

LIVING THE GOOD NEWS

Reflection Questions:
Those disciples were in a locked room because they were afraid. Are there doors to my heart that are locked?
What role does fear and self-preservation play in my tendency to lock myself away spiritually or emotionally?
What role does fear of change play in my unwillingness to let others in, even Jesus?

Did you ever make a promise that you ultimately were unable to fulfill?
How hard was it to face the one you disappointed?
Was your relationship ever the same?

If you were in Jesus place, what would you have said to those followers (like Peter, and like Thomas) who said they would follow him to his death? And didn’t?
Did Jesus response surprise you?

Scholars have said that the shalom means much more than the word “peace” What does the word shalom mean to you?

How do you define mercy?
Where, in this passage, is there evidence of God’s mercy?

Have you ever been called upon to receive mercy from someone else?
How hard was it to do so?

Have you ever been called on to extend mercy to someone else?
Was this mercy grudging, or condescending, or even insulting toward the recipient?

What is the role of understanding and compassion in extending mercy?
Where is the power dynamic in giving/receiving mercy?
Did Jesus reflect that?

Jesus greeted the disciples in the gospel twice with the words “peace be with you”. What is “peace” for me?
Has there ever been a lack of peace in my life?
Is there a lack of peace now?
How do I deal with his?

Thomas was called “the twin”. Could that refer to both his trusting and his skeptical self?
Can we be both believing and disbelieving at the same time?

When Thomas was separated from the community, he found faith more difficult. Has this been my experience?

Is it sometimes difficult to trust the assertion/testimony of another?
Can I sympathize with Thomas?

Do you think Jesus was judging Thomas?
What is the role of judgement in the practice of mercy?

Like Thomas, do I ever place conditions on my faith/belief?
Am I open to where God’s spirit may be recognized?
Is it enough to say “I believe”? or “My Lord and My God”?

What in my personal life tests my faith?
What strengthens it?
What weakens it?

Is there a climate of unbelief in our society?
What in our culture undermines trust/belief?
What supports it?

Who, in your experience, has not had proof to back up her belief, trust and optimism, but forged ahead anyway?
Are we asked to do this in our own daily lives in any way?

What does your relationship with Jesus do to sustain you in your fear and lack of trust/belief that, in the words of Julian Norwich: “All will be well”?

The emphasis on the wounds of Jesus in this gospel reinforces our recognition of the humanity of Jesus. Is it hard for me to identify with Jesus’ true humanity?
Do I really believe that Jesus is like us, with wounds of love, wounds of hate, and signs of suffering?

What do I see as “wounds” that the Church (the body of Christ) has received from the world, past and present?
What do I see as the ”wounds” that the Church has inflicted on itself?
What do I see as the “wounds” that the Church has inflicted on others?

“Blessed are those who have not seen, but believed.”
Does this imply somehow that we should have no doubts, or is this praise perhaps for John’s community who have never seen Jesus but believe in him, even despite their doubts and fears?
By extension, could it apply to us who have not seen, who may have doubts, yet choose to believe in the ultimate goodness that is Jesus?

Do you sympathize with Thomas or you find fault with his doubts ?

What do you think was the reason Jesus showed Thomas his wounds?
Do you think this shared experience brought Thomas closer to trusting and believing Jesus?

Have you ever been reluctant to show another your personal “wounds”?
Why?

Can sharing one ‘s woundedness ever be manipulative?
How do we avoid this tendency when imparting or receiving information about wounds that have been sustained?
Is it hard?

This story is a major example of how Jesus broke into the lives of his friends. Can I let him break into mine?

CLOSING PRAYER

Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.

Lord of mercy, be with me in my daily life. Help me to extend mercy, forgiveness, acceptance and “shalom” to others as you have done so to me. Keep me open to the new truths about yourself that you are revealing to me each day, if I can but listen. Help me to share my wounds and help me to acknowledge the wounds of others, just as you did for Thomas.

FOR THE WEEK AHEAD

Weekly Memorization
Taken from the gospel for today’s session: Peace be with you.

Meditations
A Meditation in the Ignation Style/Imagination, freely adapted from “Sacred Space”, a service of the Irish Jesuits: I imagine that I am one of the disciples there in the room when Jesus first appears. How shocked am I? Am I fearful? Comforted? Does everyone in my community “see” that this is really the resurrected Jesus? Does it happen to each of us all at once, or is there a different pace of recognition for each of us? In my role as disciple in the upper room, am I at all hesitant to believe what I am seeing? How do I feel when Jesus says: ”Peace be with you”? What does it feel like when Jesus breathes on me and tells me to receive the Holy Spirit? Do I have any idea what he is talking about? When Thomas returns, do I rush to tell him what excitement he has missed? How do I feel when he rejects my testimony and demands some sort of proof? Do I feel this is this a rejection of Jesus or a rejection of my own personal experience of Jesus? When Thomas actually does encounter Jesus himself, he seems to forget his former need for proof. Did Jesus look into his heart and see the need that was there? Why do I think Jesus shows Thomas, and the rest of us his hands and his side? Do I feel connected, through those wounds, to our shared history? In my own life, do I ever feel that my experience of Jesus is special to me, and feel superior to those whose belief is harder won or even non-existent? In my own faith experience, do I hope that God looks beyond my first reaction, my hasty words, and sees the need in me for love, for reassurance, for comfort? I sit quietly in Jesus ‘ presence and listen for his voice, being open to whatever he offers me. I resolve to give Jesus not just my intellectual belief, but to give him my heart, because he has already given me his.

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action: (From “Justice Bulletin Board,” by Barbara Molinari Quimby, Director of Social Justice Ministries, Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral, Raleigh, N.C.) When I came across these meditations that Pope Francis prepared for a spiritual retreat in 2016, I thought that each of us could find help for our own spiritual journey toward being recreated in the image of Jesus, an image of mercy.

1st Meditation: Nothing unites us to God more than an act of mercy. . . for it is by mercy that the Lord forgives our sins and gives us the grace to practice acts of mercy in his name. Mercy impels us to pass from personal to the communal. We see this in the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, a miracle born of Jesus’ compassion for his people and for others. Something similar happens when we act mercifully: the bread of mercy multiplies as it is shared. Mercy joins a human need to the heart of God, and this leads to immediate action. We cannot meditate on mercy without it turning into action. . . Mercy engages our whole being -- our feelings and our spirit -- and all other beings as well. Mercy gets its hands dirty. It touches, it gets involved, it gets caught up with others, it gets personal.
2nd Meditation: Saint Bernard has two fine sermons on the Lord’s wounds. There, in those wounds, we find mercy. Bernard pointedly asks: “Do you feel lost? “Are you troubled? Enter into the wounds of the Lord and there you will find mercy.”
3rd Meditation: Being merciful is not only “a way of life”, but “the way of life.”

POETIC REFLECTION

This is a lovely meditation (from a site called “Eleison”) on a poem by Denise Levertov, late a professor of English at Stanford University, who converted to Catholicism while she was here in her sixties and who wrote a Mass for the Day of St. Thomas (also called Mass for the Sunday of St. Thomas). This poem is taken from a book called the Stream and the Sapphire, which chronicles her journey from unbelief to faith.

Especially on this Sunday I am reminded of the poem “St. Thomas Didymus” by Denise Levertov. In her poem she exquisitely expresses both Thomas’ doubt as well as the beautiful revelation of the risen Lord. She draws a parallel between Thomas’ doubt and the epileptic’s father who exclaimed, “I believe Lord, help my unbelief.” Often, like Thomas, I struggle with doubts of my own. I often doubt that God will tend to me and provide for me as I walk the narrow way. I fear loneliness, rejection, isolation, and unhappiness as the result of my life choices. However, I find much comfort in knowing that like Thomas I can express and speak aloud my doubts and like Thomas not be rejected for my doubt but met by the Risen Lord so I may cry, “You are my Lord and my God.”

St. Thomas Didymus by Denise Levertov
In the hot street at noon I saw him
a small man
gray but vivid, standing forth
beyond the crowd’s buzzing
holding in desperate grip his shaking
teethgnashing son,
and thought him my brother.
I heard him cry out, weeping, and speak
those words,
Lord, I believe, help thou
mine unbelief,
and knew him
my twin:
a man whose entire being
had knotted itself
into the one tight drawn question,
Why,
why has this child lost his childhood in suffering,
why is this child who will soon be a man
tormented, torn twisted?
Why is he cruelly punished
who has done nothing except be born?
The twin of my birth
was not so close
as that man I heard
say what my heart
sighed with each beat, my breath silently
cried in and out,
in and out.
After the healing,
he, with his wondering
newly peaceful boy, receded;
no one
dwells on the gratitude, the astonished joy,
the swift
acceptance and forgetting.
I did not follow
to see their changed lives.
What I retained
was the flash of kinship.
Despite
all that I witnessed,
his question remained
my question, throbbed like a stealthy cancer,
known
only to doctor and patient. To others
I seemed well enough.
So it was
that after Golgotha
my spirit in secret
lurched in the same convulsed writhings
that tore that child
before he was healed.
And after the empty tomb
when they told me He lived, had spoken to Magdalen,
told me
that though He had passed through the door like a ghost
He had breathed on them
the breath of a living man-
even then
when hope tried with a flutter of wings
to lift me-
still, alone with myself,
my heavy cry was the same: Lord,
I believe,
help thou mine unbelief.
I needed
blood to tell me the truth,
the touch
of blood. Even
my sight of the dark crust of it
round the nailholes
didn’t thrust its meaning all the way through
to that manifold knot in me
that willed to possess all knowledge,
refusing to loosen
unless that insistence won
the battle I fought with life.
But when my hand
led by His hand’s firm clasp
entered the unhealed wound,
my fingers encountering
rib-bone and pulsing heat,
what I felt was not
scalding pain, shame for my obstinate need,
but light, light streaming
into me, over me, filling the room
as if I had lived till then
in a cold cave, and now
coming forth for the first time,
the knot that bound me unravelling,
I witnessed
all things quicken to color, to form,
my question
not answered but given
its part
in a vast unfolding design lit
by a risen sun.