In
years past, on this second of the Easter Sundays, my homilies have
tended to zero in on the apostle Thomas - his skepticism and doubt and
his slow coming to faith.
This year, it's not the doubt of Thomas but
the wound in Jesus' side that is uppermost on my mind, the wound which
Jesus invited Thomas to reach out and touch. The death of our beloved
Pope Francis this past week has brought us close to the wounds of Christ
and we have touched those wounds and they have touched us - moved us,
brought tears to our eyes and to our hearts.
So, on
this, the weekend of Pope Francis’ funeral and burial, rather than
depend on any words of my own, I’m going to let Pope Francis talk about
those wounds. In a homily he gave on this very Sunday a year or two ago,
this is what he had to say:
In Christ’s wounds, like Thomas, we can literally
touch the fact that God has loved us to the end. He has made our wounds
his own and borne our weaknesses in his own body. His wounds are open
channels between him and us, shedding mercy upon our misery. His wounds
are the pathways that God has opened up for us to enter into his tender
love and actually “touch” who God is. Let us never again doubt God’s
mercy. In adoring and kissing the wounds of Christ, we come to realize
that in his tender love all our weaknesses are accepted.
This
happens at every Mass, where Jesus offers us his wounded and risen Body.
We touch him and he touches our lives. He makes heaven come down to us.
His radiant wounds dispel the darkness we carry within. Like Thomas, we
discover God; we realize how close God is to us and we are moved to
exclaim, “My Lord and my God!” Everything comes from this, from the
grace of receiving mercy. This is the starting-point of our Christian
journey. But if we trust in our own abilities, in the efficiency of our
structures and projects, we will not go far. Only if we accept the love
of God, will we be able to offer something new to the world.
And that is what the disciples did: receiving
mercy, they in turn became merciful. We see this in the first reading.
The Acts of the Apostles relate that “no one claimed private ownership
of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.” This
is not communism, but pure Christianity. It is all the more surprising
when we think that those were the same disciples who had earlier argued
about prizes and rewards, and about who was the greatest among them. Now
they share everything; they are “of one heart and soul.” How did they
change like that? They now saw in others the same mercy that had changed
their own lives. They discovered that they shared the mission, the
forgiveness and the Body of Jesus, and so it seemed natural to share
their earthly possessions. The text continues: “There was not a needy
person among them.” Their fears had been dispelled by touching the
Lord’s wounds, and now they are unafraid to heal the wounds of those in
need. Because there they see Jesus. Because Jesus is there, in the
wounds of those in need.
Dear sister, dear brother, do you want
proof that God has touched your life? See if you can stoop to bind the
wounds of others. Today is the day to ask, “Am I, who so often have
received God’s peace and mercy, merciful to others? Do I, who have so
often been fed by the Body of Jesus, make any effort to relieve the
hunger of the poor?”
Let us not remain indifferent. Let us not live a
one-way faith, a faith that receives but does not give, a faith that
accepts the gift but does not give it in return. Having received mercy,
let us now become merciful. For if love is only about us, faith becomes
arid, barren and sentimental. Without others, faith becomes disembodied.
Without works of mercy, faith dies. Dear brothers and sisters, let us be
renewed by the peace, forgiveness and wounds of the merciful Jesus. Let
us ask for the grace to become witnesses of mercy. Only in this way will
our faith be alive…. Only in this way will we proclaim the Gospel of
God, which is the Gospel of mercy.
Dear Pope Francis, you were one in a million –
and you were one of us. You breathed the same air we did. You walked
with us. You talked with us, never at us. You knew our joys and sorrows
– and yes, you touched our wounds. You left your mark on the Church, on
the world, and on each one of us. What can we say but thank you. Thank
you, and thank God for you. And from your new place with God, we know
you will never stop being there for us!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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