By his wounds
Divine Mercy Sunday
The encounter between the Risen Lord and one particular disciple, Thomas, features each year in the Gospel reading given for the Octave Day of Easter.
When the risen Lord appeared to his disciples in the evening of Easter day St John tells us that he “showed them his hands and his side”. He was showing them the wounds of the nails in his hands, and the place where the spear pierced his side. The Lord was showing them that He is the same One who was crucified. He was revealing that he was glorified in his human body, the very body that had been crucified.
Thomas, we are told, was absent, and when his fellow disciples informed him that the Lord had appeared to them, he could not accept their testimony. One imagines that the conversation which ensued included a declaration by the other disciples that they had seen the wounds, evidence that it was truly the Lord. It may have been this that led Thomas to declare: “Unless I see the holes that the nails have made in his hands and can put my fingers into the holes that they made, and unless I can put my hand into his side, I refuse to believe”.
He could not accept that Jesus was risen from the dead. He demanded proof. He insisted on clear, incontrovertible evidence. He would not believe unless he was personally satisfied. He did not want only to see the marks but he had to touch the wounds to be assured that they were real.
In a way, Thomas reflects the sceptical attitudes of our day: I will only accept what I am satisfied with. The decline of faith today is due to this pervasive pseudo-scientific mentality that demands concrete evidence. If I cannot prove something to my own satisfaction then I will not accept it.
The Letter to the Hebrews says that faith is an act of trust in things not seen (Heb 11:1). The act of faith is a deeply human act of openness to things beyond the limits of human understanding. Yes, it is in the end an act of trust, but an act of trust that is justifiable and reasonable, like trusting that someone does indeed love us. This is difficult for so many today whose perspective is locked within the limits of their own minds. Their perspective to tied to what they can see, feel and touch. Yet we are more than this. We are not just minds, or for that matter just wills. We also have a soul which gives us an openness to the realm of the spirit. In the human person these dimensions of us are not mutually exclusive, but rather complement each other.
At this moment Thomas lacked faith. He fell back into the limits of his humanity. Despite all that he had witnessed in his time with Christ, he defiantly refused to believe something which was outside his expectations and experience. In this Thomas is like the modern sceptic, the person who has closed his mind to the possibility of the extraordinary acts of God, the person who summarily dismisses anything that is outside the narrow confines of their minds.
One week later, the Lord appears once again in his risen state. He directly addresses Thomas and invites him to put his hands into the holes the nails have made and put his hand into his side.
It is a powerful moment as the Lord confronts his lack of faith. Thomas is humbled and then makes a profound testimony of his submission: “My Lord and my God.” The Lord, in an act of kindness and patience, offered Thomas the chance to come to faith.
Today is designated Divine Mercy Sunday. It was introduced into the Liturgy in the year 2000 by Pope St John Paul II, following the instruction given by the Lord which St Faustina reported. Pope John Paul II had long been a supporter of the authenticity of the appearances in the 1930s to this Polish nun.
The Divine Mercy image is a contemporary expression of what the Lord did for his apostles on Easter evening and again one week later for Thomas: the Lord appeared and showed his wounds. The image before us shows the wound of the heart illuminated with healing rays of light. The image reflects what St Peter, quoting the Prophet Isaiah, declared, “By his wounds we are healed” (I Pet 2:24).
In speaking of the impact of meditating on the wounds of Christ, St Faustina said in her diary, “As I was praying before the Blessed Sacrament and greeting the five wounds of Jesus, at each salutation I felt a torrent of graces gushing into my soul, giving me a foretaste of heaven and absolute confidence in God’s mercy (Diary of St. Faustina, 1337). From the wounds of Christ grace flows upon the soul.
The glorified Lord carried the marks of his passion. His resurrection did not obliterate these signs of his great act of self-sacrifice. We cannot know who Jesus is without contemplating his wounds. We cannot understand Jesus without understanding the significance of his wounds. His identity is tied to his passion and death. He is the Lamb of God, the sacrificial lamb, as John the Baptist testifies, who takes away the sins of the world.
His wounds are the marks of his act by which humanity is reconciled to God. His wounds are a testimony to the mercy of God towards humanity, a mercy beyond our comprehension.
Today let us take a moment to meditate on the image of the Divine Mercy and contemplate the wounds, observing the healing rays flowing from the wound in the heart. As Thomas came to faith after being shown the wounds, so the Lord is appealing to us to gaze like Thomas on the glorified Lord with the marks of his passion, and come to deeper faith. Let us make St Thomas’ declaration our own: “My Lord and my God”.
Archbishop Julian Porteous
Sunday, 11 April 2021.