***
Someone said recently, “This was the Lentiest Lent I’ve ever had.”
The Coronavirus stripped us of so much – social interaction, physical touch, even the Eucharist.
Although our 40 day Lenten journey ended last week, it feels like we’re still stuck in it.
Globally, two-million people have contracted the Coronavirus. Over 130,000 have died from it. Millions of Americans have lost their jobs. Our children remain at home. The economy has tanked.
***
At its peak, the virus was killing one New Yorker every three minutes.
Making matters worse, families can’t be at the bedside of their loved ones, console each other in person, or even gather to bury the dead.
How are we supposed to embrace the joy of Easter when death seems to be winning?
Celebrating life seems out of place.
Right now, we mourn the fact that people are suffering; that people are dying alone; that so many have lost their jobs; that there still is no vaccine or cure.
Let’s be honest with ourselves, hasn’t this felt like a half-hearted Easter?
It’s an Easter filled with joy and sorrow.
***
The first Easter wasn’t much different.
Look at Doubting Thomas.
By now, the other disciples have seen the Risen Lord. But Thomas missed him, because he was grieving by himself.
“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side,” he says skeptically, “I will not believe.”
If I were Thomas, I would’ve doubted, too!
Think about it.
His heart’s been broken by the death of Jesus, and now his pride’s been wounded. He’s been left out. Why would Jesus appear to the others, but not to him?
It sounds like a cruel joke.
How many of us feel like Thomas, stuck on Good Friday? As if the Risen Lord has excluded us from Easter joy?
***
But notice how Jesus appears to him.
He’s resurrected but still wounded.
“Put your finger here,” Jesus says, “and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”
Jesus’ body has been scarred; ripped open. Although Jesus isn’t bleeding, Thomas can still slide his finger right into Jesus’ side.
I wonder if Jesus winced, if he squinted his eyes and pulled back a bit when Thomas touched him, showing him that his wound was real.
The Risen Jesus appears to be a paradox. He’s wounded and resurrected.
But that’s precisely the point.
***
Good Friday and Easter Sunday aren’t two separate books. It’s not like we close one and open the other. They’re part of the same story.
They happened to the same person.
This wounded, resurrected Christ shows us that it’s okay to mourn and to celebrate this Easter; to cry and to hope; to be sorrowful and to rejoice; to be wounded and resurrected.
We are people of Good Friday and Easter Sunday.
We can admit the catastrophic losses our world has endured – including our own personal grief – while still rejoicing in the promise of the resurrection.
As the old saying goes, “All’s well that ends well.”
***
In the interim, in the midst of this crisis, we turn to the Risen Lord who offers us his peace.
In fact, this is the first word that Jesus says to his disciples after his resurrection, “Peace.” In Hebrew, “shalom.”
Shalom doesn’t only mean the end of war or the end of the Coronavirus; it also means inner peace; harmony; wholeness; prosperity; health.
It what Jesus offers us now. It’s also what we extend to our neighbor at Mass during the sign of peace.
Shalom.
The fact that we cannot physically offer each other the sign of peace at Mass right now reminds us of how many people don’t feel it but need it.
So, who am I in this Gospel?
Am I Doubting Thomas, filled with skepticism and grief? Or am I one of the other disciples who’s experienced the shalom of the Risen Lord?
***
Whether or not we feel it, shalom begins with an open heart, a heart that is not, “unbelieving but believes.”
***
Yes, it’s been the Lentiest Lent ever.
But perhaps the Lentiest Lent leads to the most Easterly Easter, because our Easter joy doesn’t only stem from the fact that Jesus is risen.
It stems from the truth that Jesus died … and then was raised from the dead. He is a God who’s felt both our suffering and our joy.
He’s a God who shows us, “All’s well that ends well.”
