Second Sunday of Easter: Divine Mercy
As you know, each evangelist tells the Good News a little differently. But one thing that is consistent in all accounts is the simple and hard fact that Jesus was largely left to suffer alone in his darkest hour. Another consistent detail given in all four Gospels, is that after his Resurrection, Jesus appeared to his disciples, and he began to clean up the mess. St. John tells that on the night of his Resurrection the disciples were huddled together in fear, behind locked doors. Try to imagine that moment: hanging heavy in the air, along with their fear, were deep shame and sadness.
Then without warning, Jesus appeared. He stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.”….he showed them his hands and his side and repeated, “Peace be with you….” Not only momentarily frightening, it must also have been unbelievable to their eyes. Here’s the thing though: His first words were an expression of reconciliation, followed by displaying his glorified, yet still visible, wounds. St. Gertrude (D. 1302) once described seeing those wounds in a vision, characterizing them as “radiant jewels”. That’s beautiful, but how odd it must all have seemed to those frightened and shame-filled disciples.
Like the father in the Prodigal Son parable, who embraced his son after having been dismissed and disregarded, Jesus, in the same way, went to those who left him alone in his suffering, and embraced them with love.
Let’s be honest, when people hurt us deeply and personally, our response tends to be one of the following: We hope they’ll feel guilty and acknowledge their wrongdoing. Or we might decide they no longer deserve to be part of our lives—we cut off contact. Or we might even consider doing something in retaliation—often times insults, intended to hurt—as a way of showing how badly they hurt us.
But none of that is what the father of the prodigal son did and it’s not what Jesus does. Jesus sought to restore things, to reconcile. He didn’t demand apologies. He didn’t abandon them or lash out. To restrain oneself from those impulses is not easy. But as people who, by virtue of our baptism, share in the life of the Resurrected Jesus, we’re called to live like him.
I don’t have a universal answer for resolving all our disputes or for dealing with all our hurts, but I will say that Jesus’ response probably challenges us on the principled stances we tend to take: teaching others a lesson by giving them the silent treatment or holding on to grudges. Some of us have family members who have done foolish and hurtful things, and as a result we haven’t spoken to them in years. Sometimes we’re so fixated on the one who hurt me and how they hurt me, we don’t even bear in mind how we make it harder on everyone else entangled in this messy web.
On this Divine Mercy Sunday, we’re asked to ponder and meditate on mercy—as it’s been stated, the greatest of all God’s attributes—a gift we tend to take for granted all too easily. We do so, so that we might be transformed by it, but also so that we ourselves might become a truer reflection of that beautiful mercy, to the world itself, as well as those connected to us personally.
Again, I have no universal response for all family squabbles. I’m not suggesting that we sweep all matters under the rug, or just get along at all costs, especially when real hurts have taken or are taking place. Nor am I suggesting that we resign ourselves to those who are truly abusive. There’s more to be said on all that.
But perhaps Jesus’ loving response to his betraying friends, challenges us to work through our grudges, our principled stances; occasions when we insist upon apologies (which by the way, may reasonably be warranted), or we are tempted to return injury as a way of conveying our pain. Life is too short and too often ends without warning, to remain separated any longer than necessary or furthermore to give harbor to the poison in our hearts. It may be time to get over ourselves, to find a way to engage those from whom we’re separated, and let healing begin—to live in the 8th day of creation.
It’s interesting that the resurrected and glorified Jesus still bears wounds. Even as he embraces his disciples in peace and love, the wounds reveal a difficult history that is not forgotten. But those wounds come to be recognized as signs of his love. St. Bernard of Clairvaux (D. 1153) once said, “Through these sacred wounds we can see the secret of his heart….Where have your love, your mercy, your compassion shone out more luminously than in your wounds, sweet, gentle Lord of mercy?” Lord, as you are merciful to us, help us to be so with others.