Second Sunday of Easter 2025
John 20:19-31
Our gospel tells us that when Jesus made his first appearance in the locked room Thomas was not with them. We don’t know why. We do know that the apostles were afraid for their lives because of their association with Jesus -- Maybe that was Thomas’ motivation. Or maybe he was like those disciples on the way to Emmaus -- he’d given up when Jesus was crucified; he was heading home trying to beat the traffic. In any event he is there now, listening to his brother disciples telling him with great excitement that Jesus is alive again. They are talking about how the Lord gave them authority to forgive sins, authority to spread the good news. And they were very afraid when this first happened but now their courage has returned, and they are essentially proposing that Thoams take their claims on faith.
Thomas comes across in the few places we meet him as someone who asks questions -- When Jesus tells them he is going away but one day they would follow him, he exclaims, “Lord, wew don’t know where you are going; how can we know the way”? And in another palace when Jesus gives his prediction that he will suffer and be crucified, Thomas says, “Let us go and die with him.” Thomas has speaking parts in the scriptures, but he clearly isn’t one of the favored three -- Peter, James and John; and he isn’t one of the favorite five -- those three plus Andrew and Philip. And yet during Jesus’ life Thomas is faithful. But Jesus is dead, Thomas thinks, and the apostles are blowing smoke. But when I hear Thomas’ words, “Unless I put my fingers in his hands and my hand in his side, I will not believe” it may sound like doubt, but I think there is some anger there as well. If Jesus has appeared to the ten, why did he leave Thomas out?
And I feel like that sometimes. I read about great saints and small saints, and how the Lord worked miracles in their lives. Some saints were holy almost from birth; others were great sinners. But when you read their biographies, it’s as though they were given a special privilege -- an apparition; a miracle of some sort; an impossible healing -- whatever it was, it kick-started them on the way to become saints. Even Mary, his mother, saw an angel who assured her that she was full of grace, beloved of God, destined to be remembered for all time. I sympathize with Thomas. I think he is angry and hurt.
In the time after the crucifixion Jesus was betrayed. Peter swore that he did not know the man. The other apostles were nowhere to be found when Jesus drew his last breath, except the apostle whom Jesus loved. His mother and a couple of other ladies that followed him were there at his cross, but the vast majority of his friends were gone. From 2000 years later and from all the Easters we’ve celebrated personally we can’t possibly appreciate the emotions those apostles experienced when they met the risen Christ. So why does Jesus return to these men and women who betrayed him, who didn’t believe him, some of whom witnessed impossible miracles, some of whom heard the voice of the father at the transfiguration.
That’s kind of what Mercy Sunday is lal about. Jesus loves us so much that despite our failures, despite our doubt, our betrayal, he wants to form a loving relationship with each one of us. And that’s a message that comes through loud and clear in the post resurrection stories. He is so changed that many don’t recognize him at first. But he calls Mary’s name, he breaks the bread, he cooks a fish on the fire by the lake and in those moments he is recognized. That is the first step towards forming that relationship, and Jesus takes that step. It’s no different with Thomas. Jesus says, in effect, “if that’s what it will take for you and I to have this relationship, then so be it. “Put your fingers in my hands, your hand in my side, and believe.”
And that’s one of the reasons this is Mercy Sunday. Sister Faustina, whose writings so influenced John Paul II, had a mystical insight. She writes that at death Jesus calls the soul to himself not once but three times. If the soul remains unresponsive, God grants it a final grace, a special light by means of which the soul begins to understand God’s effort. The soul knows this is a final grace, and if it shows even a flicker of goodwill, the mercy of God will accomplish the rest.
The writer of the fourth gospel refers to Thomas, also called Didymus. Thomas is a nickname in Aramaic which means “the twin”. Didymus in Greek means the same thing. Maybe the gospel writer means for us to see ourselves in Thomas, our twin, who doubts, who is hurt, who is angry. But the Lord’s great mercy overcomes all of that in order to call Thomas to himself -- and he calls you and I to himself as well, and will do so as long as there is any effort on our part, however poor and weak our effort is. His mercy has no limits and that’s what we celebrate today.
