The Imitation of Christ

Second Sunday of Easter

"... bring your hand and put it into my side" (John 20:27)

Reflection

Nicknames, we all have them. Sometimes they are favorable, sometimes not. Because I was a skinny kid, the family named me ... PatStick.  No comment.

The apostle Thomas figures well in today's Gospel account.  We call him the “doubting” Thomas due to his search for proof of the Risen Christ.  But he has another nickname, “twin” (Didymus).  Some say he was the spitting image of Jesus, according to legend.  Both nicknames can be food for reflection.  His doubt is important for us, but so is his being a twin.

Many think doubting is wrong, a challenge to church teaching, a sense of questioning authority.  No it isn’t wrong. To doubt is a natural response to unsatisfactory answers, so it invites a deeper relationship with the true source, Jesus, a dead man who is no longer dead.  Who wouldn't seek for more behind that miracle?

Understandably, Thomas just lost his “reason for living” (Jesus). No wonder he doubts.  It is not hard to see why.  Many of us have doubted life or God himself, when we have been “hurt” by others or have suffered a loss.  We are also hurt by losses of trust: I hate to say it, but some priests have often been the immediate cause to doubt holiness and trust in the Church.  

Government leaders cause us to doubt the media and faith in justice.  Global factions cause us to doubt whether we can ever learn to live with differences.  It is easy to lose our faith in people, institutions, and even Jesus, as Thomas did.

But Doubt is not the end of today’s story.  Thomas has another nickname.  Thomas the twin is invited to touch Jesus and even examine his wounds.  Jesus brings him so close that Thomas makes one of the most profound and succinct statements of faith: “My Lord and My God.”  Doubt can lead to a faithful following (or imitation) of one your admire.

For us teachers, it is natural to doubt and stretch your spiritual wings.  We encourage our students to do as much with science and literature.  And we assure them that questions are not the end, but the means by which we open more spaces in our minds and hearts.  Easter invites you to reach out to touch God in a different way, pose your questions and let God open you to a new way of life. 

Be a doubter like Thomas, but strive to be a twin as well. Stand close to His side and mirror His life to yours.

The struggle to believe is a part of that genuine witness, so that people can see we are indeed alive Christians who do not worship doctrine and simple answers, but we worship a real person alive and living here.   

We Christians take our faith seriously enough to stick with the questions and draw closer to the Lord.  And in that faith, we too can be twins of our Lord and our God.

The Face of Christ

Easter Sunday

"While it was still dark ..." (John 20:1)

Reflection

Is Easter a feast of the day or of the night?  Many of us attend the Easter Vigil, which happens at night.  Those who stay up until maybe 11 pm know that Easter is all about the dark. But for some, Easter is about the morning.  Our clothes are bright, and at every turn we see the faces of happy kids:  chocolate, peeps, and jelly beans.  It’s 11:00 am.  Easter is all about the light of day.  Let’s not judge Easter by what time it is.  This feast doesn’t depend on reading the face of a clock, or a child, but on seeing the face of Christ.  That’s what we long to do.  See the face of Christ.

Martin Buber was Jewish philosopher and author who died in 1965.  In his book, Tales of the Hasidim, he recounts this tale about a rabbi and his students.  There is an ancient story told of a rabbi who gathered all his students together outside very early in the morning while it was still dark.  He told them to pay attention, watch the horizon.  Because he had a very important question to ask them. How could they tell when night had ended and the day was on its way back.

One student answered: could it be when you see an animal and can tell whether it is a sheep or a dog? No he said.  Another student offered: could it be when you look at a tree in the distance and can tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree? No he said. After a few more guesses, the students demanded an answer.  Well then what is it?  How can you tell when night is over and the day begins? 

It is when you look on the face of any woman or man and see that she is your sister, and that he is your brother.  Because if you cannot do this then no matter what time it is -- it is still night.

Is Easter a feast of the day or of the night?  It depends whether you are able to see through the dark.  See the face of Christ.

As we heard in today’s gospel the Easter story begins very early in the morning. “On the first day of the week, while it was still dark …”

The first day recalls the first day of creation.  Remember the first line of Genesis, which was our first reading last night: In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss.

Easter is a kind of parallel to Genesis:  it is the first day of the "new creation."  Recall when Jesus died, darkness covered the whole world.  The darkness symbolizes the forces of evil that opposed the light of the Lord.  The darkness allows to realize, there’s more to life than this. The Prodigal Son realized that before he turned and headed back home.

On Easter we make a turn, in the dark, with hopes of finding the light of the risen Christ. In that light we see him and recognize each other as brother and sister in the Lord.  The world takes on a different look. color.  Hope.  Joy.

It is that light which enables us to tell that night has ended and day is on its way back. It is a matter of the heart. 

Turning on the light helps us realize that we had been in the wrong places and we had been a bit too content with not really seeing.  The light calls us to quit looking at people as mistakes, objects of hate, and lost causes. From hanging around the graveyard.  Easter calls us to keeping looking for light. 

Where did this Gospel story take place?  In the dark of a tomb. The story begins with someone whom many had written off as a lost cause. Mary Magdalene. When she reaches the tomb she sees that the stone is rolled away, and she interprets this to mean that Jesus‘s body must have been stolen.  That’s a dark thought.

She somehow found it easier to believe in the nighttime looting of graverobbers than the nighttime working of God.  But grace moved her back to be with people. Mary Magdalene found hope by returning to the community.

She tells the apostles her story.  When Peter and John hear the story they immediately start running for proof.  John runs faster than Peter, reaches the tomb first, looks into see the clothes lying on the ground.  Peter goes in and sees the clothes folded and in order.

But notice the difference in these two. John goes in and sees the same evidence as Peter does. 

But John is moved to believe that Jesus is risen. He sees more than just discarded clothes, he sees through the dark with the eyes of faith.  His is a love that sees through the dark.

That is the free gift you receive on this Easter morning.  You have the new ability to see people.  Living people.  You can see through the dark.  On this Easter morning, let’s ask that rabbi’s question to ourselves.

How can we tell when the night is ended?  And the day begins?

- When you are able to see through the darkness of prejudice and fear, and see others as brother and sister.

- When you are able to focus your eyes less on your own sufferings and pains, and more on the compassion for those who suffer worse.

- We can tell that the night is gone and the day is on its way back when we can look on each ordinary day as a gift from God. 

- A new opportunity to learn love, and live. Try observing the ordinary, so as to behold the extraordinary.

Maybe then on this day and into tomorrow, we too can catch a glimpse of the face of Christ.