Homily

The Gospel that was announced to us seems to set the time of believers on the Easter events. Easter sets the pace of the disciples’ lives. And this has been so since the very beginning. In fact, after having appeared to the disciples on Easter day, the risen Jesus once again appears among them eight days later. We could say the following Sunday. This time Thomas is there as well. And so, from Sunday to Sunday until this day, uninterruptedly for two thousand years, Jesus’ disciples have gathered together in every corner of the world in order to live the encounter with the risen Lord.
The Apostles had stayed closed in, behind locked doors, in the Upper room because they were afraid of losing their lives and tranquillity or what little they had left after Jesus’ death. They were sad and resigned; so much so that they had mocked the women, who with both fear and joy had gone to see them in order to announce Jesus’ resurrection. However, that day, the Lord opened their hearts and overcame their disbelief. The evangelist writes that at the sight of Jesus the disciples became joyful and were filled with the Holy Spirit. They were deeply transformed by a new and irresistible interior energy. They were no longer the same. And at once they said to Thomas, “We have seen the Lord!” But Thomas did not want to believe what they told him, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Thomas was not a bad or mediocre disciple, nor was he a cold rationalist, someone who only considers what is concrete and factual, and who lives by experience only. He was not a positivist who does not let himself be overwhelmed by emotions and feelings – as did the women of whom the Gospel narrates. Thomas was, in actuality, a man with strong feelings. When Jesus decided to go to see his friend Lazarus, despite the danger of death, Thomas was the first to say: “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” And when Jesus spoke about his departure, Thomas asked on behalf of all the rest: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Thomas was not a man who was unable to feel. Nonetheless, he had concluded that the resurrection Jesus had spoken about was only talk, just words. So, when the other ten announced the Easter Gospel, he answered with his own talk, his own “creed”: “Unless I see … put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” It is the “creed” of a man who is not bad but even generous. Yet, to him, only that which he sees and touches is real. It is the creed of many men and women who are more egocentric than rational. It is the creed of those who are prisoners of their own limited perspective, prisoners of their own sensations, closed up only in what they can see and touch. These people do not believe in what they are not able to touch, they do not believe in what is far from themselves and their interests. It is the “non creed” of a world of self-centred people, who can easily become lazy, violent and unjust. Yes, because egocentrism always leads to closing one’s self off and becoming incredulous. For this reason, Thomas’ creed is often our own.
Eight days after Easter, Jesus returns among the disciples. This time Thomas is there, too. We could add that we are also there. Jesus, after having repeated his greeting of peace, invites Thomas to touch his wounds. Actually, it is Jesus who touches the incredulous heart of this disciple calling him by name and saying to him: “Do not doubt but believe.” These words, which are full of love and tender reproach, make Thomas fall to his knees. He did not need to touch the wounds because his heart was touched by the Gospel. Sure, he saw the Lord still marked by the wounds. Maybe it was the sight of the wounded body of Christ that channelled the Lord’s words into Thomas’ heart. Jesus says to Thomas: “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side.” Yes, if we want to encounter the resurrected Lord, it is necessary to put our hands on the many wounded, sick and weakened bodies of the people we meet. The victory over our own disbelief and that of the world begins right here: by listening to the Easter Gospel and touching the wounds on Jesus’ body, which is still wounded in the bodies of many men and women both near and far from us. So Easter joy is born. The apostle Peter reminds us of this: “Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy” (1 Pet 1:8).