The Second Sunday of Easter

Michael Patrick O’Malley, Jr. opened the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read in the obituary column that he had died. “How many Michael Patrick O’Malley, Jr’s could there be,” he thought and he quickly phoned his best friend James Finnerty. Did you see the paper?" asked O’Malley. "They say I died!!" Yes, I saw it!" replied Finnerty. "And where are ye callin' from?"

Poor old Finnerty! We don’t expect to get a call from the deceased. What would we do if someone we heard had died rang our door bell? Would you believe it? 

We don’t know why Thomas missed the gathering behind those locked doors on that Sunday Evening of the Resurrection. Maybe he was so disheartened that he needed to be alone or so grief stricken that he sought out his twin with whom to share his confusion and anguish. Maybe he was the designated person to pick up the Chinese Food for dinner. (Well, they had to eat.) We really don’t know the answer.

Today’s Gospel actually contains two of these post-Resurrection stores—one without and then one with Thomas present. Many sermons delivered on this Sunday focus on Thomas as the “Doubting Disciple.” Yet, in his defense, he absolutely refused to say that he understood what he did not understand. He was just being honest, and Jesus appreciated that virtue in his character.

Have you ever visited someone who lived in a big city, perhaps in a large apartment building that was not in the safest of neighborhoods or a very expensive high rise building? Most likely, you must get “buzzed” in on the ground floor after you have identified yourself.

Once you arrive at the apartment you may still need to verify your identity to the person who may have learned the hard way not to be too careful. “Who is it?” Then begins a long series of “click, click, click” and one bolt unlocks, then the chain, then the deadbolt, then yet another lock—all designed to keep the wrong person out and the person inside safe.

People have locked themselves in the invisible closet for all sorts of reasons as their coping mechanism, sometimes out of fear. Today’s Gospel also presents this image of a group of people who are cowering in fear behind locked doors.

It’s night, a dangerous time in most big cities. Candlelight throws huge shadows on the wall and they all huddle around a table, speaking in little more than a whisper. “Who’s next among us?” one of them asks. “Andrew? James? John?” What have they gotten themselves into, they are all wondering. Perhaps they also feared the scorn of friends and family for giving up everything to follow Jesus.

Then Jesus appears in their midst and greets them—not with a rebuke for their faithlessness or their lack of loyalty and support—but rather with the Shalom of God: “Peace be with you,” words that unlock doors.

I wonder if what really happened that day in Jerusalem is that Thomas, refusing to surrender to the fear which kept the rest of his friends locked behind bolted door, ventured out for fresh air, to clear his head from the devastating thoughts—and then had the courage to return to the community. And there Jesus met him exactly where he was—and did whatever  necessary to sustain and strengthen Thomas’ faith.

I think we might cut poor Thomas some slack. Instead of labeling him “Doubting Thomas,” a phrase still used for someone who is skeptical or distrustful about some story or news, might we think of his quandary as “uncertainty,” just not being able to fully grasp what his fellow disciples told him about the appearance of Jesus on Easter evening. Uncertainty is a part of living. It’s not comfortable but it is unavoidable.

Now, Roman Catholics in particular, and the entire world in general, await the election of Pope Francis’ successor with a great sense of uncertainty. Pope Francis emphasized that Christianity should be centered on compassion, inclusion, and service to the marginalized. He distanced himself from institutional power and focused on helping the poor and vulnerable.

Will the next pope be as compassionate, kind, but with no hesitation to challenge those who show intolerance or foster oppression or ignore the needs of the poor and marginalized? Or will he shape the course in a different, even retro direction, even undoing much of the good Francis did?

Last night I watched the movie Conclave for a second time. If you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to do so in anticipation of what the world will observe in the next few weeks. It’s streaming on Prime TV. The ending is controversial and a huge surprise.

Don’t expect the real conclave to end that way but do watch the movie to get a good idea of the process for electing a pope, the politicking that goes on in the days before a candidate is chosen—even though New York’s Cardinal Dolan told a reporter that doesn’t happen—and for the excellent acting in this movie with Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, and Isabella Rossellini. It won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay.

Addressing the cardinals just prior to entering the sequestered Sistine Chapel, the Dean of the College, portrayed by Ralph Fiennes, goes off his scripted homily and refers to the uncertainty of what the new pontificate may be. “Without uncertainty,” he says, “there is no mystery; and without mystery there can be no faith.”

Sounds delightfully Episcopalian to me. A good message for us on this Second Sunday of Easter. Can we imagine a pope who wishes to be called Thomas?