In considering this reflection I was tempted to approach this Gospel as I have seen it presented so many times before, with a focus on “Doubting Thomas” and on the value of believing without seeing. Poor Thomas gets a bad rap with this approach; sure, even Peter doubted the resurrection when the women returned to announce the empty tomb. We often forget, too, that in Thomas’ absence a week before, the other Apostles had the benefit of seeing Jesus in the flesh. Would they have doubted had they not? What increasingly strikes me most in this Gospel, is the incredible intimacy of the moment when Thomas comes face to face with the risen Jesus. It is so beautifully tactile, placing his fingers and hands into the very wounds of Jesus, then believing. Without hesitation he falls to his knees and makes the profound faith statement, “My Lord and My God.” This is a theological and Christological declaration of the divinity of the wounded Jesus standing before him. Thomas’ new understanding of who his master truly is now aligns with the high, descending Christology of John’s Gospel.

The risen Lord did not manifest in a remarkable, magnificent revelation of his divine nature, nor does he come in a majestic demonstration of his glory in front of multitudes. He does not reveal himself, risen and glorious, to the powerful or the wealthy. Instead, he appears unexpectedly and quietly in a locked room where his followers gather in fear and confusion to hide, reflect and make sense of catastrophic recent events. Jesus enters a room where fear, grief, confusion, and broken hearts are the reality. His greeting is telling and profound, “Peace be with you.” This peace is a gift from God, flowing out through Jesus’ wounds and born of Christ’s self-giving agape. This resurrected Jesus is not a perfected version of his human form, but his scourged, broken, and wounded reality. In many ways the internal doubts, grief and conflicts the apostles carry are reflected and shared with Jesus in his wounded human form. He does not hide the evidence of his suffering; his suffering remains an intrinsic mark of his humanity. This is the truth of the incarnation, and how as “God made flesh” he shares in our suffering in the most personal and intimate way possible.

The appearance of the wounded Christ to his frightened apostles draws me into deep reflection of times where I feel that I have encountered Christ in my life. Christ has touched me in the most intimate and personal ways through my encounters with those I considered wounded, damaged, or marginalised. In reflection, most surprisingly, these encounters occurred when I was helping people who I considered in need of help. Through my own misunderstanding of the nature of these encounters, I thought that I was being Christlike to those in need. The truth though, is that in encountering those who I considered marginalised, damaged or in need, it is I who have encountered Christ. Through these amazing people, Christ has reached out and touched my soul in ways that left me changed. Canadian artist Timothy Schmalz’s the ‘Homeless Jesus’ is a beautiful sculpture of a homeless man on a bench. On closer inspection you come to the realisation that this homeless man, is none other than Jesus Christ, who bears the very same wounds that Thomas demanded to see and touch before he believed. The risen Christ who appeared in the room with the disciples is encountered in every person we meet, especially where wounds are present.

How often do we come to the aid of those in need thinking that we are answering Christ’s call to serve, only to find that what we are really doing is addressing a need within our own soul? A search for something deeper? In 2019 I was the lead teacher on an immersion trip with Year 12 students to the Philippines. It was a trip so full of richness, service, and moments of profound faith that it strengthens and nourishes my soul to this day. As that trip drew to a close, we visited the Sisters in the ‘Good Shepherd Home’ in Cebu. This incredible place provides a long-term residential program focused on rehabilitation, healing, and counselling for young women who are survivors of human trafficking. To assist these women with their rehabilitation we met in small groups, and they discussed the truth of their experiences and struggles in life. The stories we heard elicited such an emotional response from us that it took all my self-control not to become a weeping mess. As they shared their stories, I held back my shock, sorrow, and pity for what these girls and young women had experienced. It was only when one young woman, let us call her Leah, looked me in the eyes, and asked, “Thank you for listening to our stories. What do you think,” that I gave in to the deep sorrow and grief that had been building. At that moment I wept. The tears flowed and the sobs started, and I felt ashamed of my weakness in comparison to the strength and resilience of these young women. At that moment, Leah ran to me, embraced me and she whispered, “I am okay. Please be happy that I am okay now.”

I now see that this young woman, Leah, wounded and tortured in life; with her wounds shared and open for us as she shared her story, was our encounter with Christ. A Christ whose wounds are clear and visible for all to see. A Christ who shares in our vulnerability, our fragility, and our weakness. A Christ who embraces us in our weakness and whispers to us. What Leah said could quite as easily have been, “Peace be with you.” I was the one in need of healing and God’s grace, and this young woman made God’s love clear, real and present. In so, so many ways I was healed.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, the Church invites us to gaze upon the risen Christ whose wounds are not erased, but become the very source of mercy poured out upon the world. Therefore, we do not only find Christ when he appeared to the apostles in that quiet, hidden room, we can find Christ today in everyone who carries wounds. We too can be Thomas, willing to see and touch the wounds through which Christ reveals himself to us today. We need to be open to meeting Christ in the wounded and the scarred. We need to be ready to meet Christ and to utter those words in our hearts, “My Lord and My God.”