John 20:19–31 ESV – Bible Gateway

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This Gospel passage is used on the Second Sunday of Easter for each liturgical year. The use of these verses goes back to before the liturgical reform of the lectionary and is the same reading still used for the Tridentine Rite of the Church. The reason being is that it details also the second appearance of Jesus to the Apostles “eight days later” and so is perfectly fitting for the Second Sunday of Easter.

Confession is very much the Sacrament of Divine Mercy. So it’s fitting that on this day we will both recall the appearance to Thomas that took place eight days after the resurrection and the institution of Confession which is the Sacrament of Divine Mercy. [1]

The Apostles gathered together are basically hunkering down for the duration. Gathered together in a locked room. “Proper residences were equipped with bolts and locks. Bolted doors would prevent anyone from entering (a heavy bolt could be slid through rings attached to the door and its frame).”[2] They are in fear, in fact, fear for their lives. As John writes “For fear of the Jews, they were hiding out.” They would have been afraid of any knock on the door. Jesus mysteriously comes and stands among them. Such an awkward moment as they both fear and rejoice at seeing Jesus again.

John Bergsma comments on this:[3]

The last time he saw this band of eleven men, he was looking at their backs, in the dark, as they all ran away from him rather than accompany him through his suffering and death (Matt 26:56). But Jesus does not mention this. He does not say, “Hey guys! Guess you didn’t think you’d see me again! Thanks for sticking by me there, in my hour of need.” Instead, he overlooks their dismal infidelity, and the word of Jesus is simply, “Peace be with you.”

Jesus would say “Peace be with you.” twice in this first encounter and again during the second one. They really need to let their fear go and for the peace of Christ to settle on them. Jesus is completing the commission he started at the Last Supper when he breaths on them and gives them the ability to forgive and retain sins.

When Jesus does this it recalls the book of Genesis when it says that “God breathed into the clay,” “breathed into the nostrils of Adam and he became a living being.” So what Jesus is doing here is, in a sense, inaugurating once again the new creation. But in this case the power that is being revealed through that action is not the Sacrament of Baptism as with the man born blind, but here it is the power to forgive and retain sin that will be passed down in the Church through the Sacrament of Reconciliation, through the Sacrament of Confession.[4]

The Council of Trent says:

“The Church has always understood—and has in fact defined—that Jesus Christ here conferred on the Apostles authority to forgive sins, a power which is exercised in the sacrament of Penance. ‘The Lord then especially instituted the sacrament of Penance when, after being risen from the dead, he breathed upon his disciples and said: “Receive the Holy Spirit.…” The consensus of all the Fathers has always acknowledged that by this action so sublime and words so clear the power of forgiving and retaining sins was given to the Apostles and their lawful successors for reconciling the faithful who have fallen after Baptism’ (Council of Trent, De Paenitentia, chap. 1).

Now we come to the Apostle Thomas who is now with the other Apostles on this second encounter with the risen Christ. We don’t know why he was not there the first time. Yet it is to our edification that he wasn’t.

St. Gregory the Great[5]

It was not an accident that that particular disciple was not present. The divine mercy ordained that a doubting disciple should, by feeling in his Master the wounds of the flesh, heal in us the wounds of unbelief. The unbelief of Thomas is more profitable to our faith than the belief of the other disciples. For the touch by which he is brought to believe confirms our minds in belief, beyond all question

When he joins up with them he is told the story about how Jesus came upon them although the doors were locked. There is one distinct difference between how the other Apostles acted and how Thomas acted. When Mary Magdalene informed the Apostles, Peter and John ran to the tomb. Based on witness testimony they were willing to believe that this might be true and dashed off to verify it. Thomas on the other hand heard testimony from his friends and did not believe them. He not only discounted his friends but was not even willing to see how this was consistent with what Jesus told them ahead of time. He demands empirical proof, but when Jesus offers him that very proof—he no longer demands or needs it.

New Testament scholar John Barclay writes:

“There was no halfway house about Thomas. He was not airing his doubts just for the sake of mental acrobatics; he doubted in order to become sure; and when he did, his surrender to certainty was complete. And when a man fights his way through his doubts to the conviction that Jesus Christ is Lord, he has attained to a certainty that the man who unthinkingly accepts things can never reach.”

One consideration from Brant Pitre, regarding what Jesus asks Thomas:

Since ancient Greek manuscripts do not use punctuation marks, it is not clear whether Jesus’ words to Thomas in 20:29a are a question or a statement. The NABRE translates it as a question, Have you come to believe because you have seen me?, which hints at disapproval that Thomas needed tangible proof to believe. However, it is also possible to translate it as a statement, “You have believed because you have seen me,” in which case Jesus does not disapprove of Thomas’s faith but simply declares that Thomas has arrived at full Easter faith because of the tangible proof that has been given him.

The Catechism [6] in paragraph 156 says:

156 What moves us to believe is not the fact that revealed truths appear as true and intelligible in the light of our natural reason: we believe “because of the authority of God himself who reveals them, who can neither deceive nor be deceived.”[1] So “that the submission of our faith might nevertheless be in accordance with reason, God willed that external proofs of his Revelation should be joined to the internal helps of the Holy Spirit.”[2] Thus the miracles of Christ and the saints, prophecies, the Church’s growth and holiness, and her fruitfulness and stability “are the most certain signs of divine Revelation, adapted to the intelligence of all”; they are “motives of credibility” (motiva credibilitatis), which show that the assent of faith is “by no means a blind impulse of the mind.

• Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

My References

A leading Catholic theologian has revealed a strong “lament” that has emerged from the “listening phase” of the Church’s global synodal process.

Catholics, it turns out, are desperate for their priests to preach better homilies.

…

Professor Rowlands is one of the few people to have read every single documented submitted to the synod office from the worldwide church as a result of the listening phase.

That is a pretty severe Lenten penance to have read every single one of them.

But one strong, universal theme that emerged from the listening phase was concern about the quality of sermons.

“The quality of homilies is a major, major universal feedback across the Church – people lamenting, either sermons that are just too hurriedly prepared or sermons that are too abstract and intellectual, or sermons that lack any kind of real meat and content to them.

“So there’s a kind of lament from across the world that we would like better homilies that genuinely feed us spiritually. Well that doesn’t require a policy change in Rome to make that happen.” Source

This is probably a lament across all times and space regarding homilies. This is a complaint that will never be remedied. We can not really expect a perfectly crafted homily that speaks to us for many reasons.

One thing to remember is that a homily that we might consider too abstract or not speaking directly to us might be exactly what another person needed to hear. Talking to others in my parish, I remember occasions where somebody is left dry by a homily I thought was fantastic on every level, preferring the style and content of another priest. A salutary reminder that it is not “all about us” and that we should be thankful for our priests, regardless.

It is too easy to sit back critiquing topics of homilies because it does not address your particular hobby horse, usually what you see as somebody else’s sins. Often we don’t want to be preached to, but confirmed in what we already accept. Priest also vary in personality, style, learning, level of insights, etc. We should accept this as long as the homilies are orthodox and seek to reduce our own barriers to what is being preached. I am not perfect in this myself. There are homilies where I zone out intellectually and I have to remind myself to take what nuggets I can.

Another problem is that we put too much onus on the importance of a homily. The average weekly Mass going Catholic will hear 52 plus a few days of other Solemnities during the year. If you expect that roughly 10 minutes during the week as being the full catechesis you need, you are expecting too much.

Some priests are going to be more effective homilists than others, and no amount of preparation and training will overcome. Writing to the Synod complaining about homilies is not going to move the needle.

Pope Benedict XVI wrote in his post-synodal apostolic exhortation Verbum Domini:

The homily is a means of bringing the scriptural message to life in a way that helps the faithful to realize that God’s word is present and at work in their everyday lives. It should lead to an understanding of the mystery being celebrated, serve as a summons to mission, and prepare the assembly for the profession of faith, the universal prayer and the Eucharistic liturgy.

Pope Benedict could deliver the Platonic form of a homily that meets these conditions, but how receptive are we if we hear a well-crafted homily on the day’s readings? Is it always the fault of the homilist if ten minutes later we have forgotten the message of the homily along with the day’s readings?

Besides, if you feel you are not being nourished spiritually from homilies, you are hearing—what are you doing to feed yourself spiritually? What efforts are you making regarding spiritual reading, Eucharistic Adoration, or finding devotions that help you?

One last point is that even when we hear a less than ideal homily, we are still hearing the Word of God read to us. Instead of complaining about the perceived quality of a homily, maybe we could spend some time in gratitude for the priests we have who give us the Sacraments and their service.

John 11:1–45 ESV – The Death of Lazarus – Bible Gateway

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We have another marathon passage from the Gospel of John on this the fourth Sunday of Lent and in this case a story unique to John. We were introduced to the sisters Martha and Mary of Bethany in the Gospel of Luke and John expects that we already know them and the story of Mary anointing and wiping Jesus; feet with her hair. Their brother Lazarus was not previously mentioned. The sisters send word to Jesus about their brother, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” I like to reflect on this regarding in his earthly life how many friendships he had and all those he dearly loved that are anonymous to us. From his childhood on up he would have had many such friendships and to this day this continues for us. I think I should use the phrase, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” more in my own intercessory prayers for those who are ill since the Lord indeed loves the person I am praying for.

I don’t know if Jesus’ initial reply that Lazarus’ illness does not lead to death, but to the glory of God, was sent back to the sisters. It seems likely to me it was, and they must have pondered over it when their brother died. Perhaps Martha reflected on the aspect that ultimately death is conquered and the belief in the resurrection of the dead. Based on her later interaction with Jesus, they reflected on this and were strengthened.

After waiting two days, he tells his disciples that they are returning to Judea, which they had recently left because of the danger they were in. The disciples remind him of the threat, and Jesus gives them what seems to be an enigmatic reply. A reminder to them he is the light to the world and that anywhere they go with him they will not stumble as they are safe with him. In the context of the rest of the parable, a safety not necessarily protective of illness and death, but protection against a second death from sin. Jesus further makes the point as he did at the start of this passage that Lazarus’ death will lead to belief and ultimately to his glory.

By the time they reach Bethany, which is very near to Jerusalem, Lazarus has been entombed for four days.

Dr. John Bergsma explains the significance of the number of days:

…the Jewish understanding was that the first three days of death were an intermediate state, in which the soul stayed close to the body. But after three days, death was final. It’s a bit like Billy Crystal’s routine as Miracle Max when examining the dead body of Wesley in The Princess Bride. “There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead!” In this case, Lazarus is all dead.[1]

When Martha gets word that Jesus is near, she goes out to meet and talk with him about her brother. I can imagine both her grief and her joy as she tries to understand Jesus’ delay. Joyful to see him, especially as her faith has increased.

Peter Kreeft has some very insightful thoughts on this:

Now we see these same two sisters acting out their parts again. Mary quietly stays in the house while Martha busily runs to meet Jesus down the road—which is good, and shows faith in Jesus; but Mary has the greater faith. She waits until Jesus calls her, and then she immediately comes: at his desire rather than hers. On the previous visit of Jesus to their house, if Jesus had told Mary to leave him and go into the kitchen to help Martha, she would gladly have done it. It’s not a question of prayer versus good works; it’s a question of “Thy will be done” versus “My will be done.” That’s the difference between the greater faith and the lesser faith. Like Martha’s busy works, our desires and hopes and loves are many, but Mary’s is only one: Jesus himself. That’s why Jesus has to redirect Martha’s faith and hope from the future resurrection of the many to the present one, the one who is “the resurrection and the life.” Lazarus was only a large part of her life, and of her love, and of her hope; Jesus was to be all of it.[2]

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Although Mary’s faith is greater, yet even that lesser faith of Martha’s is real faith. But Jesus increases it, and that’s our third point, the point of the dialogue between Jesus and Martha before he raises Lazarus. In this conversation with Martha, Jesus performs an even greater miracle than the one he does a few minutes later in raising Lazarus from the dead. He raises Martha’s faith. That’s a greater miracle than raising a dead body, because a dead body has no power to resist him but a live soul does. A dead body has no mind or will to think wrong thoughts or to refuse to believe; but a living human soul does. When God created the universe out of nothing, that was a great deed, but when he makes a saint out of a sinner, or makes a greater saint out of a lesser one, which is what he did to Martha here, that is an even greater deed, because nothingness had no power to resist his word when he commanded it to become something, as Lazarus’ dead body had no power to disobey his command to rise. But a human soul has free will and it can hold back; it can be double minded; it can be mistrusting as well as trusting.[3]

Dr. Brant Pitre makes a similar point:

And so when he asks Martha “do you believe in me?”, Martha makes a confession of faith that is almost as great as Peters in the Gospel of Matthew.[4]

Fundamentally, what this comes down to is that we often plan out how God should respond to our prayers and giving him the timeline we want, which is usually right now! Often we both step out in faith and in lack of faith. That even when we have a strong faith that it can be vivified and further enlivened. Jesus will bring more out of us when we more fully trust him. This is a letting go of self as we enter a deeper relationship of trust.

Returning to Dr. Peter Kreeft:

And the answer is that God is answering our prayers. God answers all prayers. But his timing is better than ours. We want instant answers, and they are not usually what is best for us. In his wisdom God knows this, knows that in the end it will work out better for us and for those we pray for if he uses his power in his time, not ours. There is no limit to his power. He can heal the sick, he can raise the dead, and he can convert the unbeliever. And there is no limit to his love: he wants what is really best for every single one of us, whether we deserve it or not. But he knows what we do not know. He works all things out for good in the end, but we do not see the end; we do not see the future. He does. If we trust his love, his power, _and his wisdom—_all of which are perfect and unlimited and infinite—he will do something better than we ask for, not something worse.[5]

Martha’s sister Mary comes out to meet Jesus and displays her faith and trust in him. She waits until Jesus calls her and they relayed the message to her.

John Bergsma reflects on Jesus’ reaction:

In response to Mary’s weeping and that of the other mourners, Jesus becomes “perturbed”—in verse 33 and also 38. The Greek word used here (embrimaomai) is very strong—“he became angry within himself.” What is the cause of Jesus’s anger? The brute fact of death in a fallen, sinful world? A lack of faith among the mourners? Commentators have not come to a satisfactory consensus. Surely, though, one of the purposes of St. John in reporting the emotion of Jesus is to stress his sharing in our human nature, including the depth of human emotion. It is often said that the Gospel of John portrays Jesus as most clearly divine among all the Gospels; at the same time, John portrays Jesus in some of the most deeply human moments of his ministry: “Jesus wept.”[6]

The Ignatius Catholic Study Bible, New Testament, looks at one possibility for Jesus’ anger:

Literally, “angered”. Though left unexplained, Jesus is probably angry with the Jews who are now weeping with Mary but who will soon betray him to hostile authorities (11:46). In other words, he foresees that the raising of Lazarus, while strengthening the faith of some, will also occasion the unbelief and treachery of others (11:53; 12:10)[7]

The raising of Lazarus was witnessed by so many people who had come to Bethany to mourn his death during a seven-day period. The reaction to this miracle appears to be mixed, especially as the news is passed around later. Sometimes we think or hear about God’s silence and we desire to witness miracles to give us strength or to show God’s power to others. This episode reminds us faith is not just generated by signs and wonders forced to believe and accept. We can reject the obvious when it does not fit are preconceptions or desires. The Israelites witnessed a great number of miracles, yet also easily fell away as they would return to their previous beliefs.

Via the Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture on “The Gospel of Matthew”:

The raising of Lazarus is the preeminent sign in Jesus’ public ministry, and like Jesus himself, it prompts different responses from people. Many of the Jews who had come to Mary saw the sign and began to believe in him—the outcome for which Jesus prayed before raising Lazarus (11:42). However, others went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done. This report prompts a meeting of the Jerusalem religious authorities, where they decide to seek Jesus’ death (11:53). The irony is striking: Jesus’ giving life to Lazarus leads to his own death. This is the dynamic that Jesus expressed in speaking about himself as the good shepherd: the good shepherd freely sacrifices his life (10:11, 15) so that his sheep may receive life (10:10).[8]

We have made much of Jesus’ reaction and his weeping over Lazarus. This is one aspect of the Incarnation to dwell on and a facet to think on in our own faith reaction to grief. Mary of Bethany has a strong and active faith and trusted implicitly in Jesus, and she wept in her grief. Jesus, knowing that he would raise Lazarus, weeps. He knows Lazarus will also experience physical death again later and raised up into eternal life. Those who have a strong faith can be perturbed by grief, as it can be felt as a lack of trust that Jesus will raise up their loved ones. Faith does not turn us into stoics, but helps us to love more deeply and to let process our emotional responses formed in grief. Let us join Jesus when he weeps.

One last reflection from Francis A. Schaeffer:

“To me, what Jesus did at the tomb of Lazarus sets the world on fire—it becomes a great shout into the morass of the twentieth century. Jesus came to the tomb of Lazarus. The One who claims to be God stood before the tomb, and the Greek language makes it very plain that he had two emotions. The first was tears for Lazarus, but the second emotion was anger. He was furious; and he could be furious at the abnormality of death without being furious with Himself as God. This is tremendous in the context of the twentieth century. When I look at evil—the cruelty which is abnormal to that which God made—my reaction should be the same. I am able not only to cry over the evil, but I can be angry at the evil—as long as I am careful that egoism does not enter into my reaction. I have a basis to fight the thing which is abnormal to what God originally made. The Christian should be in the front line, fighting the results of man’s cruelty, for we know that it is not what God has made. We are able to be angry at the results of man’s cruelty ❲and the abnormal world resulting from sin❳ without being angry at God or being angry at what is normal.”[9]

References

• The Word of the Lord: Reflections on the Sunday Mass Readings for Year A – John Bergsma
• Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings Cycle A
• Catholic Productions, Commentaries by Brant Pitre
• The Ignatius Catholic Study Bible꞉ The New Testament
• The Gospel of Matthew (Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture)
• St. John’s Gospel: A Bible Study Guide and Commentary for Individuals and Groups: Ray, Stephen K.
• Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

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1. The Word of the Lord: Reflections on the Sunday Mass Readings for Year A, John Bergsma, Fourth Sunday of Lent  ↩
2. Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings Cycle A, Fourth Sunday of Lent  ↩
3. ibid  ↩
4. Catholic Productions, Brant Pitre, Fourth Sunday of Lent  ↩
5. Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings Cycle A, Fourth Sunday of Lent  ↩
6. The Word of the Lord: Reflections on the Sunday Mass Readings for Year A, John Bergsma, Fourth Sunday of Lent  ↩
7. Ignatius Catholic Study Bible: New Testament  ↩
8. The Gospel of Matthew, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture, Edward Sri and Curtis Mitch  ↩
9. Francis A. Schaeffer, He Is There and He Is Not Silent, in The Complete Works of Francis A. Schaeffer (Westchester, Ill. Crossway Books, 1982), 1:301–2. Excerpted from St. John’s Gospel: A Bible Study Guide and Commentary for Individuals and Groups. Steve Ray, 2002  ↩