Second Sunday of Easter, April 24, 2022
/What is faith? What is the role of doubt in faith?
John 20:19–31
In the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, the doors were closed in the room where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews. Jesus came and stood among them. He said to them, ‘Peace be with you,’ and, after saying this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples were filled with joy at seeing the Lord, and he said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so am I sending you.’
After saying this he breathed on them and said: ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you retain anyone’s sins, they are retained.’
Thomas, called the Twin, who was 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 answered, ‘Unless I can see the holes that the nails made in his hands and can put my finger into the holes they made, and unless I can put my hand into his side, I refuse to believe.’
Eight days later the disciples were in the house again and Thomas was with them. The doors were closed, but Jesus came in and stood among them. ‘Peace be with you,’ he said. Then he spoke to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; look, here are my hands. Give me your hand; put it into my side. Do not be unbelieving any more but believe.’
Thomas replied, ‘My Lord and my God!’
Jesus said to him: You believe because you can see me. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.
There were many other signs that Jesus worked in the sight of the disciples, but they are not recorded in this book.
These are recorded so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing this you may have life through his name.
Brief Analysis and Comparison of the Resurrection and Post-Resurrection Narratives >>
MUSIC MEDITATIONS
Christ in Me Arise—Trevor Thomson
Our God is Here—Chris Muglia (Praise and Worship)
We Remember--Mary Haugen
Come Thou Font of every Blessing—Mormon Tabernacle Choir
OPENING PRAYER
Dear Lord, often we are ordinary persons, knotted up in our own worries and concerns that we cannot see your presence among us. Our doubts and fears often get in the way of our peace and growth. Help us to believe, more, to trust more, to rejoice more in your love and your company.
COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY
Adapted from “First Impressions” 2019, by Father Jude Siciliano, O.P., a service of the southern Dominican Province:
My first response to today’s gospel is, “Thank God for Thomas.” We are a long way removed from this event. As a modern person reading different resurrection accounts, I note variations in the details. I tend to want more accuracy in the stories so that I can show them to others and say, “Here, this is what really happened, all the witnesses agree.” That kind of coalescence of details would satisfy my need for neatness and my penchant for order. I would feel reassured. But would some newspaper report of the events two thousand years ago build my faith, help me believe when in crisis, keep me going over the long haul of discipleship? I wonder.
What we have instead, are stories filled with chaos and confusion. Everyone seems caught off guard by the resurrection. It was a surprise to them as they struggled to deal with something that was completely beyond their experience. So, Thomas’ skepticism sounds real to me. I would have responded similarly, because I respond that way these days. My doubts and struggles don’t go away, but are there despite my faith. I like it that someone I can identify with was on the scene, attempting to throw the cold water of “reality” on what must have been an ecstatic group of disciples. Since I wasn’t there, I want someone to speak my case. Thomas, who missed the first appearance in the upper room, stands in for us who are long removed from these events. His need for help in believing speaks our own needs as we survey a world that acts so contrary to resurrection and new life.
In addition, my own church appears to lack the vibrant faith of a resurrection-based community of believers. If we believe in the resurrection, why aren’t we a more alive community at Sunday worship? Why aren’t we, in a time of multiple military engagements, more outspoken witnesses for the shalom-peace Jesus wishes for his friends in the upper room? Our society needs a strong community’s voice to speak critically to a world of prejudice, fear, hatred, exploitation and oppression. Recent clergy scandals chip away at my resurrection faith as well. I stand with Thomas, hearing about resurrection, but sometimes feeling very removed from any vibrant manifestation of its reality. I am glad Thomas spoke up. I am glad he wrestled, as I do, with doubts. I am even happier that the risen Christ took all this into consideration and made that extra appearance–a return trip to the upper room- just to help a disciple work through his doubts and arrive at faith.
I suspect the early church, rather than denigrate Thomas as the weak link in the chain of faith, saw this story as a treasure. From the beginning there were naysayers who denied the resurrection and held the central belief of the church up to ridicule. For them the first community could point to Thomas, who also was a naysayer and attest, here is one who also doubted and then came to believe. Jesus’ passing through the locked doors of that room suggests he wasn’t and isn’t restricted by any place and time. So for us gathered at worship, we invite that same Christ to come to us, see our doubts and struggles and reassure our faith, we who haven’t seen, but try to believe. The risen Christ greets his frightened followers with a greeting of peace—“Shalom.” This was more than a “hello,” more than a “calm down, get a grip.” Remember earlier in this gospel Jesus promised his peace, “Peace I leave with you....” Today he bids his peace to them twice. They will take his peace into the world, empowered by the Spirit he breathes on them. We are reminded, as Jesus breathes on his disciples, of God’s breathing into the humans God formed from clay in Genesis. We are being created anew, with the life and breath of the Risen One. Now his followers will be able to live and preach his message of peace. God’s shalom was the promise made through the prophets. God would create a new community of believers who would practice forgiveness and harmonious relations, they too would be bearers of shalom, as Jesus was.
We are not merely looking back on one historical moment. Rather, whenever Christians practice forgiveness, overcome death in its daily guises–hatred, deceit, indifference, contention, violence, prejudice, etc —then the Spirit of Christ is alive and well in believers and the resurrection is expressed again in this moment and this time. We can’t “prove” the resurrection to non-believers, not even with this story of doubting Thomas. But we certainly can be fingers pointing to it whenever we are signs that the life of Christ has not been extinguished, but is enfleshed in his modern followers.
Most of us gathered for worship this Sunday probably don’t share the disciples’ fear. They feared for their lives; they had seen what had happened to Jesus. As his followers, they could expect similar treatment, so they locked themselves in to keep danger out. While we probably don’t have their limiting fears, we may have their initial doubts. They had heard Mary Magdalene’s report of the empty tomb (Easter Sunday’s gospel) and her meeting with the risen Christ (20:10-16). But her report was not enough to overcome their doubts. This may be the way Jesus’ message about not being afraid applies to us—he could be telling us not to be afraid because of our doubts. Don’t let our doubts paralyze us; instead of drawing on them, we must lean more on the faith we do have. In addition, we don’t stand alone in these doubts, we belong to a community whose members also struggle with their doubts. Our community worshiping around us today doesn’t consist of some doubters and other believers; it is comprised of believers who wrestle with doubts. Thomas with his doubts, surrendered to belief before the risen Lord. In fact, even seeing the risen Christ wasn’t initially enough for Thomas to have full faith.
Faith, it seems from today’s story, has to go beyond seeing and touching with our physical senses. Instead, like Thomas, the risen Christ encourages a leap of faith, “...do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas is a reminder today that our journey of faith includes doubt. We are fortunate to be among those Jesus called “blessed.” We have trusted the gospel news of the resurrection, have embraced it as our faith and have gone about living as people who draw life from a Spirit that had been breathed into each one of us.
If the resurrection has been told in any other way, we would have felt distant from it. Struggling with our incompleteness, the darkness of faith and the hurts we have experienced and observed in others, the last thing we need is a resurrected savior who comes to disciples all spanking clean and spruced up! This would have made him too removed from our lives. Instead, while he is resurrected, he still shows signs of his dwelling among us—his wounds. It was through his wounds, not in spite of them, that he was identifiable to those left behind. It was through these same wounds that we received our life. Our wounds do not set us apart from Jesus, indeed, they are signs of our union with him. And his wounds assure us we shall not be defeated by all that assails us. When Jesus enters the locked room where his frightened disciples are holed up in fear, he doesn’t come in a blaze of glory, surrounded by angelic powers and blinding light. He comes with his wounds---the wounded savior comes to his wounded disciples. Like us, his sojourn has dealt him heavy blows, he too has been battered. Since we all have wounds, Jesus shared even that with us. He wasn’t a casual visitor who just passed through our lives, an observer not fully involved.
Whenever we experience them in our lives, our wounds don’t have to defeat us. They link us to one another and to the risen Christ. His resurrection helps us bear these wounds and gives us hope that we are being healed of them. But even before complete healing happens, we know that in our own woundedness, we meet Christ, who comes through any barriers we may set up to cover our hurts. He would be with us where we are most protective and locked up---and there bring us his peace.
WEEKLY MEMORIZATION
Taken from the gospel for today's session….
My Lord and My God
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:
Jesus entered that room through locked doors. Are the doors of my heart locked to Jesus?
Jesus saw something in Thomas’ heart that others missed. Do I believe that Jesus sees into the deepest regions of my poor and doubting heart?
If Thomas had to get away from the group for a while to process his grief and loss, he might not have been quite ready emotionally to believe a new reality when he has just begun to come to acceptance of the old one. Are there times when we are afraid to trust in joy or good news for fear we will be disappointed and devastated all over again?
In this gospel, all of the other disciples in that room, except Thomas, had seen Jesus for themselves. What Thomas was asked to do was take their testimony and believe it. Do I ever question the credibility of the witnesses to Jesus I find in scripture?
Am I Thomas's twin?
Thomas is the quintessential modern man, skeptical of easy answers and cheap grace. Have I ever said "I believe it when I see it."?
How unrealistic is it for me to believe what I have never seen?
Is it only honest to admit this?
75% of our knowledge comes from accepting the word of others. We tend to have a hard time accepting that about which we are already skeptical or accepting that which we do not like to hear. Have I ever resisted the truth of a situation because it made me uncomfortable?
Have I ever resisted the truth of a situation because it required me to change?
How many of us like Thomas, make grand statements of principle, but have trouble following through?
Can I speak to Jesus honestly about my fears and my doubts?
Can I ever admit to Jesus that I sometimes have trouble believing?
Thomas might have been so devastated by the death of Jesus that he was afraid to hope in the resurrection. Have I ever been in a situation in which I felt that it hurt too much to hope?
Have you ever had a religious experience that was out of the ordinary?
How did you respond?
How did this experience affect your life?
Has there ever been a time in your life when you felt hopeless or lost?
Was Jesus present in this experience?
Has it ever been difficult for you to believe in the fact that Jesus lives? Have you ever doubted the possibility of life after death?
Have I ever had a strong intimation of the power and majesty of God?
When?
How did it change me?
Most walk through life so far with doubt on one arm and faith/trust on the other. What are my doubts or fears?
In what or whom do I trust?
Thomas's doubts grew when he was away from the community. When we doubt, we tend to give up, go away, drop out. Has this ever happened to me?
Did I seek out other doubters or did I look for ways to stay strong and live with those doubts together with others going through the same things and hanging in there?
How does my community of faith support me in my doubts or fears?
How do I hang on to my beliefs in a climate of skepticism and cynicism which is so prevalent in our culture today?
Do my doubts multiply in a climate of unbelief?
Can I admit my doubts or do I mask them with bravado?
What are some of the wounds I have sustained during my life?
Have they permanently disfigured me, or has the healing power of Christ and of human love made those scars badges of honor?
Does Christ enter into human experience through his own wounds?
Did you notice that Jesus' response was to welcome Thomas into his very wounds, his sorrow?
Do I think Jesus understands my doubts, my fears, and welcomes me home?
Too often we judge ourselves harshly because we remember " Blessed are those who have not seen and believed?" Well, good for them! But do I understand that I am loved and accepted by God, no matter where I am in my faith journey?
Like Thomas, we sometimes set conditions for our belief and trust in God, demanding that He hear our prerequisites for belief or acceptance. Why is this such a human trait?
Do we sometimes behave this way with others in our lives?
Is there a climate of unbelief in our society? What in our culture undermines trust/belief? What supports it?
Did I skip over the part int his gospel where Jesus says: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you”?
What challenge is there for me in this statement?
Meditations
A Quote for the Week:
from Rainier Marie Rilke: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:
Thomas was forever known as “doubting Thomas” because he at first refused to believe his fellow disciples when they told him what they had seen. What we sometimes forget to see in this gospel is that Thomas went beyond what he saw in the person of Jesus in that upper room, and was the first to recognize that Jesus was more than his resurrected self, more than his wounds. He saw that Jesus was God. Thomas was not doubting at all in the Jesus who stood before him; in fact he was expressing a more radical faith than any of the others had uttered. Thomas was willing to let go of his doubts and fears because of his utter faith in the divine Jesus. Thomas had no proof of this divinity; his faith must have come from a special gift of the Holy Spirit which allowed him to see beyond the physical to the mystical. He could not do this on his own. In my own life, have I ever had doubts or second-guessed my beliefs and assumptions? How willing was I to accept a new and more radical reality? Have I ever, like the father of the epileptic child in Mark (9:24), prayed: “I believe; help my unbelief”? Do I realize that sometimes we have to take “ a leap of faith”to trust our own instincts, to trust others, to trust the process of living ad dying? How hard is that?
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? Why do I think Jesus shows me his hands and his side? 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?
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 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:
Read Psalm 116b,
10I trusted, even when I said, “I am sorely afflicted,”
11and when I said in my alarm, “These people are all liars.”
12How can I repay the LORD for all his goodness to me?
13The cup of salvation I will raise; I will call on the name of the LORD.
14My vows to the LORD I will fulfill before all his people.
15too costly in the eyes of the LORD is the death of his faithful.
16Your servant, LORD, your servant am I, the son of your handmaid; you have loosened my bonds.
17A thanksgiving sacrifice I make; I will call on the name of the LORD.
18My vows to the LORD I will fulfill before all his people,
19in the courts of the house of the LORD, in your midst, O Jerusalem.
Alleluia
Note especially line 15: "Too costly in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his faithful." Within our community and our world there are innocent children and adults who are the victims of poverty and violence caused by war, greed, and political divisions. Seek out an organization dedicated to change the world for the better, such as Pax Christi, Physicians without Borders, Catholic Relief Services or any organization supporting Ukraine and learn as much as you can about what one individual can do to change things. Resolve to do ONE THING this week to aid the cause of justice and peace, whether it is learning more about an issue, donating money, or actually giving time to an organization or even just an individual who might need your help in a time of personal darkness. Pray for the Ukrainian people and for the Russian people.
Literary Reflection:
Read and enjoy the following poem by Michael Kennedy, S.J.
Nail Holes
(2nd Sunday of Easter)
****
Of all the places
In the entire world Thomas was
Absent from the place where Jesus
Appeared and he must have wondered
Why in the world he chose to be gone
That night since he had decided he
Needed a break from the disciples
Who were trapped into a never
Ending contest of second
Guessing and so a week
Later Thomas made it
A goal that he would
Be present if the
Master came to
Them again
****
And as much as we
Admire and praise all the disciples
Perhaps our biggest thanks should
Go to Thomas for he showed the
Other disciples and us that
Asking questions with even
A skeptical mind was not
Only a good idea but
Probably mandatory as
The quick response of
The Risen Lord
Would seem to
Indicate
****
For Thomas gives
All followers of Jesus
Permission to question even the
Most central part of our faith
So that after all is said and
Done one of the center points
After that first Easter
Is quietly and simply
The nail holes
****
Literary 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).: 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, stewarding my sexuality. I fear loneliness, rejection, isolation, and unhappiness as the result of my celibacy. 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
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.
CLOSING PRAYER
From Sacred Space 2022, a service of the Irish Jesuits:
Help us, Lord, to be before you and to hear your word in this time of prayer. You know the needs of our minds, You have heard our words. Now, let us listen to your voice and know your presence. We lay aside our demands and receive what it is you offer to us.
