Dear brothers and sisters, good day!
Today, on the last day of the Easter octave, the gospel recounts the first and second appearances of the risen Lord to the disciples. Jesus comes on Easter while the apostles are locked in the upper room out of fear, but since Thomas, one of the Twelve, is not present, he returns eight days later (cf. Jn 20:19-29). Let us focus on two protagonists, Thomas and Jesus, and first look at the disciple and then at the Master. It is a beautiful dialogue that these two engage in.
First of all, the apostle Thomas. He represents all of us who were not present in the upper room when Jesus appeared, and we had no further physical signs or arrivals from him. Like him, we sometimes find it difficult: how can we believe that Jesus rose from the dead, that he accompanies us and is the Lord of our lives, without seeing him, without touching him? How can we believe? Why does Jesus not give us some more evident sign of his presence and his love? A sign to help me see better... Well, we are also like Thomas, with the same doubts, with the same reflections.
We should not be ashamed of this. In recounting Thomas's story, the gospel tells us that Jesus does not seek perfect Christians. Jesus does not seek perfect Christians. I tell you: I shudder when I see some Christians, some Christian groups, who think they are perfect. The Lord does not seek perfect Christians; God does not seek Christians who never doubt and always boast of certain faith. When a Christian is like that, something is wrong. No, the adventure of faith, like Thomas's, is made up of light and shadow. Otherwise, what kind of faith would it be? It knows moments of comfort, growth, and enthusiasm, but also moments of fatigue, loss, doubts, and darkness. The gospel shows us Thomas's "crisis" to tell us that we must not be afraid of the crises of life and faith. Crises are not a sin, they are a way, we must not be afraid of them. Often they force us to humility, as they strip us of the idea that we are right, that we are better than others. Crises help us realize that we are in need: they awaken in us the need for God again, and thus allow us to return to the Lord, to touch his wounds, to experience his love again, as we did the first time. Dear brothers and sisters, it is better to have an imperfect but humble faith that always returns to Jesus than a strong but conceited faith that makes us proud and arrogant. Woe to them, woe!
And what is Jesus's attitude in the face of Thomas's absence and his journey, which is often our own? The gospel says twice that he "came" (v. 19, 26). First and second time eight days later. Jesus does not give up, does not tire of us, is not afraid of our crises, our weaknesses. He always comes back: when the doors are locked, he comes back; when we doubt, he comes back; when we need to meet him and touch him up close like Thomas, he comes back. Jesus always comes back, always knocks at the door, and does not return with powerful signs that would make us feel small and incapable, even ashamed, but with his wounds; he returns and shows us his wounds, signs of his love, which has married our weaknesses.
Brothers and sisters, especially when we experience fatigue or crisis moments, Jesus, the Risen One, wants to return to be with us. He is just waiting for us to seek him, to call him, even to protest like Thomas and bring him our needs and our unbelief. He will always return. Why? Because he is patient and merciful. He comes to open the basement of our fear and our unbelief because he always wants to give us another chance. Jesus is the Lord of "second chances": he always gives us another, always. So let us reflect on when we last - let us remember a little - in a tough moment or a time of crisis, closed ourselves off, barricaded ourselves in our problems, and left Jesus outside the door. And let us promise that next time we will seek Jesus in our fatigue, that we will return to him, to his forgiveness - he always forgives, always! Let us return to the wounds that healed us. In this way, we will also become capable of compassion, approaching the wounds of others without stiffness and prejudice.
May the Virgin Mary, Mother of Mercy - I like to remember her on the Monday after the Sunday of mercy as the Mother of Mercy - accompany us on the path of faith and love.
