2nd Sunday of Easter 2025
Acts 12:5-16; Apocalypse 1: 9-19; John 20:19-31
As I began, as usual, writing this homily on a Monday, I am still reeling at the news of Pope Francis’ death, which I received via a Bidding Prayer at morning Mass. As well as praying for the soul of this great Pope, we must pray fervently for the guidance of the Holy Spirit, that this same Spirit may inspire the cardinals who must choose the new successor or St. Peter to guide the Church during the next few years.
I suspect that only the most naïve of individuals would deny that the sort of politicking depicted in the novel and film “Conclave” takes place. Our prayer must be that the Holy Spirit may cut through the shenanigans and ensure that we receive the Chief Shepherd that we need. There is, I am sure, something serendipitous about the timing of Pope Francis’ death, as he, like Pope St. John Paul II, died at Easter, as we celebrated the Lord’s Resurrection and triumph over death.
Turning to today’s readings, I would encourage you to take careful note of the first paragraph of the Gospel, and to consider to which day it refers. Clearly, it speaks about Easter Sunday, when the disciples were both disbelieving and fearful. Remember the timing when you hear that reading again at Pentecost, and recall that it is NOT speaking about Pentecost. Then, if anyone tries to claim, on the basis of that paragraph, that the disciples remained in fear until the Spirit came upon them at Pentecost, you may, with a clear conscience, knock them down and sit on their heads—charitably, of course.
The Risen Christ’s appearances on Easter Sunday banished their fears, and gave them new heart. It was to be another week, however, before Thomas shared in their experience and found his own scepticism overcome. For that, we should be grateful, for Thomas speaks for modern man and woman, the “man on the Clapham omnibus” beloved of early twentieth century writers, but having his origins in the English law courts. Today (perhaps always) people are sceptical about many things, whilst being remarkably credulous about many more, particularly if they appear on social media: “If it’s on Facebook, it must be true”.
In many ways, Thomas represents the Facebook generation. “I didn’t see it first on social media, so I won’t believe it. Prove it!” There is something deeply irrational in the belief that only what is provable can be true, coupled as it so often is with a willingness to believe all kinds of nonsense. Over and over again, the statement attributed to GK Chesterton, though not found in any of his writings, is validated: “When people stop believing in God, they don’t believe in nothing—they believe in anything”.
Thomas fits in well, with his refusal to believe in what he cannot see and touch. “Right!” says the Risen Christ, “See and touch to your heart’s content”. There is enough there to convince the sceptical Thomas, and to encourage us during those times when faith is difficult. It will not convince those who refuse to believe in Thomas, but at least it acknowledges the possibility of difficulty, of the struggle which faith may sometimes entail. Someone who had walked with Jesus, who had seen all that He did, and who had heard all that He said, could still have stumbling blocks to faith: we, therefore, should not feel guilty if our own faith is sometimes far from crystal clear.
Yet, as well as consoling us when we struggle, Thomas may perhaps offer us another form of encouragement. His declaration “My Lord and my God” takes the faith of the early Church a huge step forward, as it is the first unconcealed, unambiguous proclamation of the divinity of Christ. It also provides us with a prayer which demands from Jesus a response of encouragement. If we can pray “My Lord and my God”, as many of us were taught to do at the elevation of the sacred Host and the chalice, we are entitled to hope and trust that He will respond with the gifts of strength, of wisdom, and of courage for which we are crying out.
