The weekday Mass gospel readings over the last seven days presented various accounts of Jesus appearing after his resurrection to the members of his community. The common theme was their confusion and disbelief. Having witnessed Jesus’ unbearably cruel torture and death, followed by his burial, his disciples and close followers were lost and fearful, their dreams, hopes and expectations shattered to pieces and scattered. It was perfectly encapsulated by Clopas escaping Jerusalem for the village of Emmaus: “we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” He then produced a comprehensive description of the confusion that reigned supreme among Jesus’ followers that day: “Some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, and when they did not find his body, they returned, saying they had even seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.” The interesting thing is that Clopas was telling all that to Jesus’ face, but, blinded by his grief and fear, he didn’t recognise Him and continued on his escape route.
Other disciples of Jesus didn’t fare better. As he heard today, John, in his gospel, reported: “On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors [were] locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews.” It was an understandable, instinctive human reaction to the events that had taken place only two days earlier. They were terrified they would be next for the chopping block. So they locked the door and hoped for the best. But what did they actually hope for? They certainly didn’t remember any of Jesus’ many assurances that he would rise from the dead. Most likely, they were considering their options for life after Jesus’ failed project. In that moment of confusion, fear and hopelessness, symbolised by the locked door, “Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’” These words were designed to lift their spirits and disperse their fears. But, as if to prevent any misplaced belief that all was back to normal, Jesus “showed them his hands and his side,” the wounds inflicted on him by his crucifixion and the soldier’s spear. We know it from the following story of the Doubting Thomas who declared: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Having shown the disciples his wounds, “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you.’” The reminder of the horror of his crucifixion – the showing of his wounds – was sandwiched by those calming words. Jesus had said something similar at the Last Supper, just before he and his disciples left for the Garden of Gethsemane: “My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” The unique feature of the Christian faith is that it turns inevitable, inescapable suffering into a source of spiritual power when it’s connected to the suffering of Christ. It’s been the driving force behind generations of Christians spreading the Good News all over the world, starting with the most successful apostle, Paul, who declared in his First Letter to the Corinthians: “When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling.”
The closing of the episode in which Jesus appeared to his scared disciples, hiding behind the closed door, reveals the source of such spiritual power and courage. He told them: “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Unlike on Pentecost, no spectacular sound or visual effects accompanied the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. It took a while for Jesus’ words to take effect in his disciples’ hearts – the doors were still locked a week later when he turned up to talk to the Doubting Thomas – but eventually the Holy Spirit changed them into fearless witnesses to Jesus. It reminds me of Pope John Paul II, who prayed in his native Poland, governed by the openly hostile communist regime in 1979: “Let your Spirit descend. Let your Spirit descend and renew the face of the earth, the face of this land.” Against all human hope, ten years later, almost to the day, the communist regime was gone, and Poland was set on the path to democracy and freedom. When we face demanding or downright scary challenges in our lives, we can draw hope and faith from that inexhaustible source of strength, the Holy Spirit given to us at our baptism and confirmation: “Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth. O God, who have taught the hearts of the faithful by the light of the Holy Spirit, grant that in the same Spirit we may be truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolation. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
