One week after the women and the disciples saw the risen Christ, there was still an atmosphere of fear in that house. Fear of the Jews, but also fear of themselves, of their own cowardice, of how they behaved on the night of the betrayal. It feels like there is no air.
Despite our unreliable hearts, Jesus stands among us. It comforts me that if he finds the door closed, he stays, waiting patiently, even if I take my time to open it.
“Shalom,” he said, dispelling any fear and insecurity. He breathed on them, saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit – behold, I send you!”
But Thomas was not there; he didn’t feel the Holy Spirit, he was still stuck on Good Friday, and the death of Jesus on the cross left his heart paralyzed: “Unless I see and touch, I will not believe.”
Poor, dear Thomas, who has become proverbial! He wants guarantees, and he is right, because if Jesus is alive, his whole life will be turned upside down.
Jesus invites us to believe through simple actions: look, put, touch. Thomas recognizes Christ’s wounds as symbols of love and surrenders to the peace Jesus offers, which comforts our fears and defeats.
Ultimately, Thomas transitions from disbelief to ecstasy. Whether he touched the Risen One matters less than his declaration, “My Lord and my God.” This sense of belonging is vital; without it, I would not exist.
Blessed are those who believe without seeing—a bliss I now feel is my own.