Homily for the Morning Mass on the Second Sunday of Easter

Captain Tom Moore. What a wonderful story that’s been this week. Approaching his hundredth birthday undertaking to walk 100 laps of his garden to raise what has amounted in the end to millions for our wonderful NHS. Not daunted by feelings of anxiety and fear of catching the virus which are obviously still in the air these days as we continue with lockdown. Rather channelling positive energy to spread a message of generosity, service, hope for the future.

And that generosity, spirit of service, hope that we will surely come to the end of the tunnel, is also so prevalent around and about. The generous members of our Parish, about 45 at the last count, who are ‘phoning round those on our database, trying to ensure no one is left out, alone and needing company through the telephone. Those continuing food service for the homeless over at St Patrick’s in Soho – I am shocked to hear that, despite the government’s assurance that all homeless would be housed during the outbreak, in fact only 25-30% have been; and those who are housed have no access to food: the generosity of the volunteers – including some from Farm Street - and of Claridge’s Hotel who have stepped up and provided 300 meals a day - has kept 150 people on the streets alive when everyone else seems to have forgotten them. The wonderful courage of nurses and doctors and NHS volunteers – when I was over at Great Ormond Street twice in the last couple of weeks I’ve witnessed that courage and generosity first hand. Yes, there are silver linings – gold linings I would say – as Pope Francis’ sentiments are borne out in a new humanity emerging from the tragedy of the present crisis.

And yet we are still locked down, locked in, and uncertain for how much longer. Fear, anxiety, and, yes, much suffering and grief, grief alone as it’s been so difficult for many to accompany their dying loved ones. These emotions, I’d like to suggest, were those too of Jesus’ followers in this Sunday’s Gospel. The doors of the first Christians are closed in fear of the Jews. They fear death, they fear suffering, and they are in confusion about where we go next.

Maybe your anxiety is not so much about COVID-19. But maybe this crisis has exacerbated it. It might be or might have been in a difficult relationship or family situation; about job security; about what the new future will be for you, for us as a society, when we come out of this. When we look at the experience of the first disciples, of the community of faith in the Risen Lord which was to become the Church, and we reflectively consider our own experience we begin to realise that what we have is something very human in common.

And it’s right now as the doors are closed, the shutters are down, that through the locked door in walks Jesus. And Jesus unlocks Thomas’ heart because he knows that experience well. He has been there in the depths of anxiety, fear, going all the way to the Cross. And through this encounter Thomas is able to come out of himself and simply recognise “My Lord and my God”.

But what did - what does that mean ? Well, what we’re celebrating at Easter is the power of God’s love for us – of God’s wanting to bring us freedom, salvation, meaning in our lives, calling us to closer friendship with Him and lives of closer service of Him – and opening for us the gift of eternal life – yes, in the resurrection of Jesus Christ – God made man – we see the power of the love of God, that total love which goes all the way through the cross, through the tomb, and is resurrected and glorified not despite but through those wounds. This love changes everything, we might say. And yet we also know, however true and deep, these pious thoughts can slip too sugarily off the tongue.

In fact the truth is also: nothing has changed. “My Lord and My God” is not the end of the drama – rather it can only be the beginning – the preface to – all too soon – walking out that door into the city, to taking the risk of bringing Jesus to the world around us. This will lead to humiliation, to capture, and ultimately for Thomas to martyrdom – the tradition of course was that Thomas went to the Asian subcontinent, to India, where he was put to death for following the Lord. From now on in his life, however, after this conversion experience, we can only summise what happened:& knowing his personality – perhaps some might say unfairly painted over the centuries – we might indeed imagine surely more doubt – more fear – more sense of betrayal – more confusion: maybe it’s all a scam and too hard to give my life to, to give up my life for – yes, like us, he’s a human being.

But the key is being called to bring Jesus to the world. And that life of the apostle is a call we are all presented with. Even in tragedy, even and in fact especially through the wounds we rediscover the Jesus, the God who is human present in us. We hear his call to be more loving, more generous, more perfectly human as he was. The Lord and God we discover is not God despite of but through his wounds - & there we see ourselves projected outwards towards others.

I invite you to go back to this Gospel this week. If we can place ourselves in it as Thomas or one of the other disciples. Look at Jesus closely as he looks at you lovingly. Feel our own doubts, fears, confusion. And look at the wounds. And ask for the grace to see, ultimately, in them the promise of new life, of a true resurrection faith which proclaims the Jesus right here among us who will, as with Thomas, ultimately break through that door to bring renewal in the lives of service of his faithful people.

Fr Dominic Robinson S.J.