On the evening of Easter, Jesus appears to the apostles gathered inside a locked room for fear of the Jews. He greets them, “Peace be with you!” Peace is the first gift of the risen Lord. It is the first fruit of the resurrection.
Peace is the one thing that Israel had always yearned for throughout their history as a people. Peace is what humanity ceaselessly seeks and which remains elusive to this day. Peace, in truth, is the deepest desire of every human heart.
Today the risen Christ offers us peace – his peace. Earlier, he had told his disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you.” (Jn 14: 27) What is this peace?
After greeting his apostles Shalom, Jesus breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The peace that Jesus had promised and now gives is the Holy Spirit. Who is the Holy Spirit? The Holy Spirit is the love between the Father and the Son. To receive the Spirit is to receive the love of God. Hence, it is only where God (who is love) is received that there is peace.
It is interesting to note that in today’s gospel reading, Jesus appears twice: on Easter Sunday and the following Sunday. In both occasions, he shows the apostles his wounds and his side. The resurrected Lord always shows his wounds whenever he appears. Why? Bishop Robert Barron volunteers an answer. He says that the wounds of Christ are a reminder of the world’s opposition to him. Remember what Peter said to the Jews at Pentecost? “Jesus the Nazorean was a man commended to you by God with mighty deeds, wonders, and signs… This man, delivered up by the set plan and foreknowledge of God, you killed, using lawless men to crucify him.” (Acts 2: 22-23)
The wounds of Christ are a reminder of sin. They remind us of our own sin and its deadly consequences. Like the Jews, we too killed Jesus by our sin. This is the truth about sin and its unspeakable horror.
One of the most frightful experiences I had in midlife was when I found myself capable of justifying anything. I could break the commandments and every one of my vows, and I could always find some reason for doing so. I could easily use psychology, philosophy or even theology to rationalize my actions. “I’m just meeting my needs, my basic human needs… After all, it was you, Lord, who put these needs in me… I never mean to offend you, Lord… It’s nothing personal, Lord.”
In hindsight this kind of moral moratorium was the most frightening and dangerous experience I ever had. In fact, I came to a point of nearly falling down completely, if not for God’s mercy. It was sheer grace, a grace so amazing, “that saved a wretch like me, [who] once was lost and now am found.”
“It’s nothing personal, Lord.” But in a relationship, everything is personal. In a relationship, everything means and everything counts. The least gesture can cause great joy or pain to the beloved. When we are in relationship with God, everything is personal because love makes us vulnerable.
Hence, when God decided to love us, he risked himself becoming vulnerable. The great, transcendent and unreachable God has become vulnerable because he loves me.
The Chinese character for love is made up of four images: a hand from above, an inverted plate, a heart, and another hand from below. The meaning is simple. When I love I pour my heart to your hand. I give myself to you as a gift. Love is total surrender. What happens if you do not accept my heart, if you withhold your hand? My heart falls and breaks.
Thus, the symbol of God’s love is a broken heart, a bleeding heart – the Sacred Heart. By sin God is made vulnerable, he is truly offended. The vision of the mystics and the experience of the stigmatists vividly depict and confirm the vulnerability of God.
And yet despite the despicable and dreadful consequence of our sins, Jesus offers us his peace. We killed God and he returns in forgiving love. God’s love is infinitely greater than our greatest sin. Such love is called Divine Mercy.
Jesus breathed his Spirit to the apostles and through them commissions the Church to bring his forgiveness to all. “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” Likewise, Jesus breathes his Spirit to each of us, so that we may bring his forgiveness to those who have wounded us. For only then will we receive his peace.
In his book, “The Gift of Peace,” Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago, narrates his most painful experience. He was accused of sexual misconduct by a young man, named Stephen. The news was much publicized by a ruthless media which caused him untold suffering. The accuser eventually withdrew his accusation and acknowledged that it was false. At that time, Stephen was dying of AIDS. The cardinal visited the young man and gave a bible in which he wrote words of loving forgiveness. Then he showed the young man a hundred-year-old chalice which he received from someone as a gift who wanted him to say a Mass for Stephen. The cardinal celebrated the Mass with Stephen there and then. The cardinal describes this meeting as the most profound experience of peace and reconciliation he ever had in his life.*
