Second Sunday of Easter, cycle A

John 20:19-31

Have you ever been responsible for someone coming into the church? I wish I could say that I had been instrumental in converting someone. But when I think about people I've known who have come into the Catholic church, it seems as though I haven't had much to do with it. There was one exception. When I was on the staff of the cancer center in Buffalo, a young physician training to be a cancer specialist expressed an interest in becoming a Catholic. He had been raised in a progressive Protestant denomination, and currently attended an Episcopalian church. We had many discussions about religion. After his two year fellowship he took a job out in Indiana. I didn't hear from him for a couple of years, and then one evening I got a call. He was having a party to celebrate his entry into the Catholic Church, and he called to thank me. For some reason he considered me the tipping point. I felt flattered, humbled, and grateful to God for using me. Maybe I've helped other people enter the Church. I don't know. Maybe I've helped lukewarm people become more devoted. But I think if I've done anything, it's probably to help people who belong to other denominations appreciate their Christian faith more – after all, during my career the people I hung out with belonged to all kinds of churches, even different faiths. And if I've helped people appreciate their faith more, it's not because I'm a great missionary; I'm pretty cowardly, but I do try to live like I imagine a Christian should live, and I never hide the fact that I pray and go to Church and believe what my Church teaches.

One of the things we Christians are supposed to do is witness our faith so that people are attracted to it. We are supposed to, as Saint Peter said, “always be prepared to give answer to everyone who asks you to give reason for the hope that you have.”

In the gospel today, we see two events. The first is when Jesus appears to the disciples after his resurrection. We are reading the gospel of John, but if we looked at the gospel of Matthew or Mark, they would have told us that the apostles were quaking with fear, because they believed they were seeing a ghost. John left out this detail. But the point is, the apostles ended up believing in the risen Jesus. As they told Thomas, “We have seen the Lord!”

But imagine how the apostles must have felt when Thomas, who has been with them for those three years, says “Unless I put my fingers in the wounds on his hands and put my hand into the wound on his side, I will not believe!” Here they were, telling their brother, their fellow apostle, their friend, that Jesus had risen from the dead and he doesn't believe them. But Thomas is not without faith or love or courage. After the raising of Lazarus, Jesus told his disciples that he was going down to Jerusalem to die, and Thomas said to the others, “Let us go down and die with him.” Certainly you couldn't question his commitment. He also said at another time, “Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Thomas wasn't someone who uncritically believed anything you told him. When questions came up, he wanted answers. And so maybe it's not a surprise that Thomas doesn't believe the other apostles. He has a critical mind. And that's not a bad thing.

Put yourself in Thomas' place. You've seen Jesus die. You've seen him rolled up in spices and pushed into a tomb. And now you are being told that he rose again? I sympathize with Thomas. Several years ago there was a young woman in a coma and the story went that she was in some way a conduit for miracles. People would gather outside her home and pray. I had a friend whose silver rosary turned to gold while she was praying, at least that's what she said. But you know, I didn't go. And I don't have any great desire to go to Lourdes or Fatima or Medjugore, because I always figured that if the Blessed Mother wants to talk to me, she knows where to find me. Thomas was not faithless; he was probably more faithful than the rest. He probably believed that if Jesus wanted him to witness his resurrection, Jesus knew where to find him.

And the other thing. Thomas might have asked himself, why are these guys still hiding from the Romans? After all, if Jesus really did rise from the dead, everything he taught was true, and he said a lot of things about how his followers would ultimately triumph over persecution. He said that the Holy Spirit would put the words into their mouths; He said that they were blessed if they were persecuted; he said do not be afraid; he made them apostles, which means, “the ones who are sent”. If Jesus really did rise from the dead, why were they still hiding in this room?

And then Jesus shows himself, and offers Thomas the opportunity to prove to himself that the Resurrection really occurred. And Thomas perhaps surprisingly, does not take up the invitation; in the gospel it does not say that he actually put his finger in those wounds and his hand in Jesus' side. He simply falls to the ground and says “My Lord and My God”.

So here is a very devoted, very holy man – a good Jew, a person who is thoughtful and not gullible. He has shown his devotion and his courage. And the apostles were still not able to convince him that Jesus had risen from the dead. And why was that? Because they did not show him Jesus. It was only when Jesus himself appeared to Thomas that the conversion took place, and Thomas from that moment on preached up and down the shores of the Persian gulf and on into India, leaving Christian communities all through that area.

We are supposed to be instruments of conversion. We are people who have been commissioned to bring the gospel to the people we know. And perhaps the lesson of the gospel this weekend is that in order to convert our friends and neighbors and members of our family, we not only need to tell them that we have seen the Lord, but we need to show them Jesus Christ. And if they see Jesus Christ in us, perhaps they too will fall at his feet and say, “My Lord and My God.”

This is Mercy Sunday. God is always offering us his mercy. And he offers other people his mercy as well – and we are often the instruments of that mercy, if we allow him to work through us.