A relative or friend of yours is going through a difficult time: an illness, the loss of a job, a breakup. You want to pick up the phone and call, you begin to write a card, you think about making something to bring over. But you hesitate. What do I say? What can I do? How can I possibly make this situation better?
So you back off. You don’t want to say the wrong thing. You don’t want to appear to pry. You don’t want to make things worse.
But somehow compassion trumps your doubts about you ability to help; your love and concern are stronger than your fear of dong or saying the wrong thing. So you make the call, write the note, bake the casserole. And you somehow find the right thing to say, or you realize, wisely, that nothing needs to be said. Your listening ear, your compassionate shoulder, your concerned presence are more that enough.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus appears to his disciples and shows them his hands and his side; later he invites the doubting Thomas to touch the marks make by the nails and the gash from the soldier’s lance. Easter does not deny the effects of Good Friday nor erase the wounds of crucifixion - but Easter is God’s compassion moving us beyond crucifixion to healing and wholeness. We all have scars from our own Good Fridays that remain long after our own experiences of resurrection. We learn from our scars. Our “nail marks” remind us that all pain and grief, all ridicule and suffering are transformed into healing and peace in the love of God we experience from others and that we extend them. Jesus tells Thomas and his brothers not to be afraid of nail marks and scars and fractured bones and the crushed spirit and the broken heart. Compassion, forgiveness, justice - no matter how clumsily offered - can heal and mend. In the light of unwavering hope, with the assurance of God’s unlimited grace, even the simplest act of kindness and understanding is the realization of Easter in our midst.
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