Acts 5. 27 – 32
John 20. 19-31
Easter II
Fr Alex
Today’s Gospel reading picks up exactly where last week’s left off. On Easter Day we heard of the tearful Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb in the early morning, and her amazing encounter with the risen Lord Jesus.
Then she ran with joy to announce to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” and to tell them of Jesus’ words to her.
Now it is evening, on that same day; but we find the disciples not celebrating with Mary in Easter joy as we might expect; instead they’re huddled in fear, behind locked doors.
I’d like to think about those doors this morning. We could understand, perhaps the first mention of these locked doors. No doubt word has got around that the tomb is empty; maybe the authorities are after the disciples, to question them or worse; and to find out where this troublesome body is and dispose of it once and for all.
So in their fear they hide away, they shut the doors and lock them.
But what are locked doors to the one who has broken the bars of death? Despite the locked doors, despite their fear and confusion, their Lord comes to them: and he gives them the blessing of his peace, and the gift of his Spirit.
It’s a great comfort to us in our own discipleship, that even in our doubt, our fear, our insecurity, Jesus breaks into those dark situations and brings the blessings of his peace.
But what have the disciples done with these great blessings? Not much, it seems. A week later, when Thomas is with them, they’re still hiding away in the house. John doesn’t say the doors are locked this time; but they’re still shut against the world.
I’ve been thinking about those doors this week because of something the late Pope Francis reflected about this very thing. As you know it was his funeral Mass yesterday.
He spoke about the image of Jesus standing at the door and knocking. The traditional reading of this image is Jesus knocking to be admitted, to come into our hearts, to enter our lives: just as in our reading today he passes through those locked doors to enter the disciples’ house.
But, Francis said, what if Jesus is insistently knocking at the door, not to come inside; but for us to come out instead, to join him in the world outside?
I think that is a profound message for us on this Second Sunday of Easter, as we dwell with this passage today.
Jesus comes to the disciples and gives them his peace; not so they might feel a bit better about themselves while they hide away in safety, but so that they may unlock their doors and go out into the world.
After all, how can they retreat and hide themselves away, when their Lord and Master has burst free of the confines of the tomb, to fill the world with his life?
Of course, it’s easy to say such a thing, but difficult to put into practice. It’s part of the human condition to doubt, to fear; to want to preserve what feels like safety and peace by keeping ourselves out of danger, away from controversy and confrontation, like those disciples in the locked house.
And Jesus knows how that feels: he felt all of it in the Garden of Gethsemane. In becoming one of us, he understands our human limitations. But as the Son of God, he also knows our incredible potential; and he knows we can achieve so much more than we think we can.
We see this, most beautifully, in the way Jesus deals with the disciples when he comes to them the second time; and especially in his dialogue with Thomas.
Poor Thomas gets a lot of stick for refusing to believe what the disciples have told him; but of course he’s reacting in just the same way as they did. They refused to believe Mary Magdalene until they had seen the risen Jesus and his wounds, hiding themselves away in fear.
And even after this first incredible visit, the disciples are still hiding away. But when Jesus has to prove himself for a second time, he doesn’t condemn them; he barely even rebukes Thomas, not really. Rather, with infinite patience, and with love for his doubting friend, he shows him his wounds, and he blesses them again with his peace.
He takes their weakness and transforms it into a witness to his love, his mercy; his glory. Just as on the cross, his divine power was revealed and made perfect in his human weakness, in his suffering and sacrifice for the world; and just as it is only by his wounds that we may recognise the risen and glorified Christ.
What Thomas and those fearful and bumbling disciples will go on to do, once they finally throw open their doors and follow Jesus into the world, will demonstrate the truth of that transformation.
We can be assured that when our Easter joy begins to fade; when we struggle to sustain our faith in the challenges of life; when we doubt, when we fear: even in those moments, and perhaps especially in those moments, Jesus may still work within us the transformation of his risen life.
Even in our own weakness, we may become witnesses to his love, his mercy, and his glory: and we too can do miraculous things, with him.
And so in the great comfort that we may take from today’s passage—for us, just as for the disciples, there is also a challenge: what will we do with the blessings we have received?
Will we, who receive his peace and glimpse his glory again today in this Mass, keep it to ourselves: or will we go outside the doors with him, and share it with the world?
What are the doors we lock around ourselves? What might it look like in our own lives to walk out into the world with Jesus? Amen.