To begin, I would invite you to try suspending in your hearts and minds all the history and faith development that followed the Crucifixion and burial of Jesus. Imagine all you know is that Jesus lies buried behind a large rock in a crypt. Like most people you know that the younger preacher lost his campaign. The Jewish and Roman authorities seemingly were victorious in ending the vision that was sweeping power away from them. As a faithful follower, one of his disciples, you are gathered together with you colleagues more in fear and hiding than in conviviality or celebration.
Suddenly he is standing before you. The women were right! The two Emmaus "day dreamers" were not off in space somewhere. What must be in your heart and mind as you hear: "Peace be with you." Here we go again! Is this a magician playing trick with us?
It seems that Jesus had to come to the disciples on quite a few occasions to convince them that the mission was not over either for himself or you. He was preparing to return to the Father but he was also sending you with the gift of the Holy Spirit, sending some to forgive sins.
The spirit or drive of Lent is over. The temptation is to return to the way things were before we began our Lenten journey. Yet, if we prayerfully study what we read in the Scriptures about the days after Easter Sunday morning's revelations began, we should be wanting to know more about Jesus, more about ourselves. Like a sponge soaking up water, we can fill ourselves with the joys of our redemption. All the promises have come to pass. Whether in a cemetery, on a traveled road out of town, at a hastily prepared shoreline breakfast or in the sanctuary of an upper room, Jesus made it known: "I am with you even now."
How wise was Pope John Paul II to focus the Sunday after the Resurrection day on the gift of the divine mercy of the risen One. Directing our thoughts to the moments of his mercy, we come to know how blessed we are. And just for a moment recall with me the extraordinary accounts of his mercy. Remember the moment when Peter, the specially chosen one, didn't have the guts to acknowledge his friendship because the pressures of an inquisitive woman were far stronger. Remember the scene in today's gospel: Thomas couldn't accept what others were trying to teach him to believe. Remember the great band of The Twelve who could not remain loyal to him, who failed to remain faithful to the promise they would follow no matter what. Remember Friday afternoon: the sounds of a jeering crowd, the sharp sounds of steeling hammering on steel, the jabbing pain of a spear in the side, the bitter refreshment on a sponge to quench a thirst --- all of these moments to humiliate and ultimately to reject one man's teaching and preaching.
None of these pain-filled moments were harbored by the One hanging on a cross. All was forgiven: "Father, they just don't know what they are doing." Mercy at its most divine moment: forgive them.
And you or me? How do I respond even though we know the rest of the story --- our personal forgiveness, our being pardoned for the sins in our lives. It is a day when we can surrender to the greatest invitation ever received: "Follow me, I love you. I have died for you to set you free."
