Second Sunday of Easter. . .

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5y8vn997DM&t=353s

April 12, 2026

Second Sunday of Easter

Kelly

Sankowski

We were on the way to the hospital for the birth of my second son when we decided what his middle name should be. We decided on Thomas. Given that we met at a church named after St. Thomas Aquinas on the campus of a university founded by Thomas Jefferson, many people probably assumed he was named after one of those men. But he was actually named after the Thomas in today’s gospel, because we believe he has gotten a bad rap.

He has been known through the ages as “doubting Thomas” because he did not believe the apostles’ story about the risen Jesus appearing to them. He demanded to see it with his own eyes.

This has always seemed unfair to me, because he was only asking for what other people – the other apostles – already got. We have made this one moment of doubt his defining characteristic, and I don’t think any of us would like it if this is what happened in our own lives.

So, on this Divine Mercy Sunday, I would like to invite us to consider Thomas through God’s merciful eyes. For when we look at the whole context of his life, we see that it is not doubt that defines him, but rather courage, critical thinking, and a willingness to stand out from the crowd.

Earlier in the gospel of John, we see that Thomas plays an important role in another story – the raising of Lazarus. Jesus and his disciples had left Jerusalem because people had started to threaten to kill Jesus for saying he was the son of God. Then, they receive the message from Mary and Martha telling Jesus that their brother, Lazarus, was ill. When Jesus tells his disciples that he intends to go back to Judea, they challenge him, saying, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” (John 11:8). Thomas is once again a lone voice – this time, urging the others to follow Jesus. He tells them, “Let us also go to die with him” (John 11:16).

In John chapter 14, Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to prepare a place for them in his Father’s house, and that they know the way. Thomas, clearly thinking critically about this, asks, “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” (John 14:5).

And finally, the beginning of today’s Gospel passage tells us that Thomas was not with the other apostles when Jesus first appeared to them. Why not? We don’t know, but I wonder if it is because while the others were hiding behind locked doors out of fear, Thomas was once again courageous enough to still be out in the world, continuing the work of Jesus, even if it meant risking his own death.

The same characteristics that led Thomas to need to see the resurrected Jesus with his own eyes are the ones that gave him the strength to follow Jesus at a great risk, and to ask important questions to gain a deeper understanding of Jesus’s message.

When Jesus looks at Thomas in the second half of today’s Gospel, he doesn’t just see “the doubter”. He sees the whole person – the man whose courage and critical thinking have given him the strength to be one of his most ardent followers, but have also made it hard for him to believe in this improbable miracle. Jesus sees it all, and has mercy on Thomas. While he does point out where Thomas could have done better, saying, “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed,” Jesus also gives Thomas exactly what he needs: he lets Thomas touch his wounds.

This is also true when God looks at you. God sees the whole picture of your life - not just the weaker moments that others might define you by. God does not just see your impatience with your children, or the way you never can seem to remember to bring reusable grocery bags to the story. God does not just see the ways you fall short, the things that you are afraid of, or the long list of things in your head that you think you are doing wrong. God sees those things, sure, but God also sees the care that you have for your loved ones, God sees the way that you work for justice, even if it is imperfect, God sees the ways you have grown, and the ways you are still trying to do better. And God sees how all of that has brought you to this moment. In God’s infinite mercy, no one moment can ever break God’s love.

It strikes me that Thomas might be exactly the saint we need at this moment. The news cycle of this Lenten season was one of violence and war. When so many of us are either tempted toward greed and power or tempted toward despair at the state of the world, we need someone who is thinking differently. Someone who is courageous enough to challenge the status quo. Someone who doesn’t remain inside the locked doors of paralysis when problems seem too large, but is willing to continue doing the important work of building God’s Kingdom.

As we enter into this joyous Easter season, may the mercy and love of God empower us to be more like Thomas: to use the brain that God gave us to ask difficult questions, and to be courageous in our following of Jesus.

 

Painting by Caravaggio

It's all in the hands. . .

“The Kitchen Maid with the Supper at Emmaus” by Diego Valázquez  c.1620

The poet Denise Levertov was inspired by this painting to tell the story of the

Servant Girl at Emmaus.

 She listens, listens, holding her breath.
 Surely that voice
 is his—the one
 who had looked at her, once,
 across the crowd, as no one ever had looked?
 Had seen her?
 Had spoken as if to her?

 Surely those hands were his,
 taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
 Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?

 Surely that face—?

The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
 The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
 The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning,
 alive?

 Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
 don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
 But she in the kitchen,
 absently touching the wine jug she’s to take in,
 a young Black servant intently listening,

 swings round and sees
 the light around him
 and is sure.

-Denise Levertov

Emmaus -- In the breaking of the bread . . .

 

The Road to Emmaus ~ Caravaggio

 EMMAUS JOURNEY (Luke 24: 13-35)

All was chaos when he died.
We fled our separate ways at first,
then gathered again in the upper room
to chatter blue-lipped prayers
around the table where he’d talked
of love and oneness.

On the third day Cleopas and I
left for the home we’d abandoned
in order to follow him.

We wanted no part of the babble
the women had brought from the tomb.
We vowed to get on with our grieving.

On the road we met a Stranger
whose voice grew vaguely familiar
as he spoke of signs and suffering.

By the time we reached our village,
every tree and bush was blazing,
and we pressed him to stay the night.

Yet not till we sat at the table
and watched the bread being broken
did we see the light.

Irene Zimmerman, osf
From: Woman Un-Bent

Let us join in prayer in these next hours . . .

Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR)

Let us join in prayer in these next hours as we wait to see what will happen to the threats by the United States of strikes on critical infrastructure in Iran and as our concerns mount for civilian lives and regional stability.

In this moment of uncertainty and anguish, let us pray for an immediate cessation of violence and threats that will bring further harm to that region of the world. May all world leaders receive an outpouring of wisdom, humility, and compassion so that they may work together for justice and the protection of all life.

We entrust all people -- especially those most vulnerable at this time -- into the loving mercy of God. 

An Eastering moment . . .

 

Mary Magdalene's Easter Prayer

I never suspected

            Resurrection

                        and to be so painful

                        to leave me weeping

With Joy

            to have met you, alive and smiling, outside an empty tomb

With Regret

            not because I’ve lost you

            but because I’ve lost you in how I had you –

            in understandable, touchable, kissable, clingable flesh

                        not as fully Lord, but as graspably human.

I want to cling, despite your protest

            cling to your body

            cling to your, and my, clingable humanity

            cling to what we had, our past.

But I know that…if I cling

            you cannot ascend and

            I will be left clinging to your former self

            …unable to receive your present spirit.

Author: Ron Rolheiser, OMI

Faith Unfolds: Easter Sunday 2026

 

April 5, 2026

www.johnpredmoresj.com | predmore.blogspot.com

Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-9

 

Today the church sings out in a joyful voice: Alleluia. Alleluia. Jesus of Nazareth has been raised by God from the dead. God has vindicated Him and He is the Anointed One – forevermore to be alive to us and for us. The Resurrection tells us that God knows our human suffering and that death and suffering are not the final words. Life with God is the message. Through the Passion of Jesus, we can see the humanity’s worst actions are never the final statement. Mercy wins. Mercy breaks forth as God transforms human suffering and injustice into life. 

 

In the First Reading, Peter testifies to the events of the Crucifixion and gives evidence of their authority to bear witness. They realize that faith is not an idea, but a testimony. Their faith demands proclamation, and so they are sent forth to speak to the very people who condemned Jesus to death. They testify to God as the giver of life who wants all people to raise their minds and consciousness to the divine project that is unfolding before them. 

 

In the Gospel, on the first Easter morning, we see that faith precedes our full comprehension. Peter and the Beloved Disciple at first do not see anything dramatic, just neatly folded cloths in an empty tomb, but something within them shifts. They come to believe that Jesus was raised from the dead. Faith awakens even when they do not yet fully understand. The Beloved Disciple has an “aha” moment, an instance of conversion, an interior shift in his consciousness. Then Peter understands and Mary Magdalene as well. 

 

This should reassure us that our understanding of the Resurrection is still incomplete. Faith never means full knowledge. It means we progress a little bit more along the way. We continue to evolve as we become “People of the Way.” If you have fundamental questions, then great, you are on the way. If you do not believe the whole package, then great, you are on the way. Faith is a journey that unfolds over time, and we need to ask our questions and tell our stories so we can witness the Risen Christ working within us. We can put it this way: The tomb is empty, but faith is not. It begins with questions and doubts. It grows through our searching, and like the first Disciples, it blossoms into belief, and one day we realize that we are standing courageously in front of others saying: We are witnesses to the Resurrection. Jesus lives. Jesus lives within us and is active in our world today – even when humanity does its very worst to each other. God is at work transforming our lives and calling us to be our very best selves. 

 

We celebrate the Resurrection today, but please know that you may not feel that Easter moment today or within the next week. This quiet joy may come months afterwards. Trust that it will come. As it was with the Beloved Disciple, a moment will come over you when you realize something shifts, you gain an insight, you breathe more easily, you feel settled and centered, you know that everything will be okay. It may be a new energy, a new life, a new love, a moment of reconciliation, a surprising moment of laughter, a time when someone who is estranged takes a tiny step back into your life, a moment of understanding. It might be a moment in which your dreams, creativity, and longings are rekindled. Respect these moments as ones in which God is reaching out to you, personally, offering you the Resurrection. God promises to be with you. God’s project for you is unfinished. God does not want you to stay in the tomb. Step out, see that God’s work for you is still in process. God has not forgotten you. Christ promises to come back for you. He will always hold a place in his heart for you. Happy Easter!

 

 

Disciple . . .

Mary Magdalene by Gheorghe Tattarescu

Poem: “Tell Them” By Edwina Gateley

Breaking through the powers of darkness
bursting from the stifling tomb
he slipped into the graveyard garden
to smell the blossomed air.

Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,
that I have journeyed far
into the darkest deeps I’ve been
in nights without a star.

Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,
that fear will flee my light
that though the ground will tremble
and despair will stalk the earth
I hold them firmly by the hand
through terror to new birth.

Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,
the globe and all that’s made
is clasped to God’s great bosom
they must not be afraid
for though they fall and die, he said,
and the black earth wrap them tight
they will know the warmth
of God’s healing hands
in the early morning light.

Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,
smelling the blossomed air,
tell my people to rise with me
to heal the Earth’s despair.