2nd Sunday of Easter C - Homily 4

 Homily 4 - 2016

It is easy to domesticate the crucifixion, and the resurrection. For the disciples, Jesus’ crucifixion had taken them completely by surprise. They had abandoned Jesus when he was arrested, and had locked themselves up somewhere, terrified out of their minds, totally confused, bereft of faith. Not one of them was interested enough, or game enough, to accompany the women who went to the tomb on the Sunday morning to anoint the dead body. As for resurrection, no one even dreamt of it. And when Mary Magdalen returned from the tomb and claimed to have seen and talked to the Lord, they would not hear it.

Then, Sunday night, he stood in their midst. His first words to them were “Peace be with you!” Given their behaviour, that is remarkable! Next, he “showed them his hands and side”. Why did he do that? More surprisingly, he then commissioned these bewildered men to continue the mission his Father had given him to forgive people’s sins and draw them into community.

We think of Easter in terms of triumph, of vindication. Preach forgiveness! Was that a response of victory? or of capitulation? Of triumph? or of surrender? And the forgiveness he had extended to them with his “Peace be with you!” was forgiveness that prescinded even from repentance, forgiveness with no conditions at all. Forgiveness is tricky. I am not sure that most of us get it. Either we highlight sin, and are coy about forgiveness; or we highlight forgiveness and minimise sin. We struggle to hold both in focus and to give due weight to each.

But look again at the Gospel. The world’s sin had callously conspired to brutalisingly murder an innocent victim, a victim, no less, than the Son of God. Jesus “showed them his hands and his side”. Jesus firmly confronted them with the stark evidence of sin’s reality – no soft-pedalling. Yet, in the next breath, he repeated his message of peace for his spineless friends, and gave them the mission to bring forgiveness to the world that killed him. He denied neither sin nor forgiveness, and squarely faced both.

Genuine, life-giving forgiveness expresses the capacity to face the destructive reality of sin without any minimising, and, at the same time, the deliberate decision to accept and respect the inherent human dignity of the perpetrator. To hold opposites in tension without denying or avoiding either does not come automatically, but is a factor of human maturity. “Either/or” thinking is the way of children and adolescents. Most adults get stuck there as well, and mature no further.  Genuine forgiveness is beyond them. “Both/and” thinking, if it comes, comes later and is the hallmark of wisdom. It is born, I think, in the context sometimes of suffering, often of love – love received and love given. 

The Church’s purpose, is to tell the world of God’s unconditional forgiveness. It is our mission as disciples. Yet, in the present climate even to suggest forgiveness can seem like the betrayal of the victim – and perhaps, when not understood properly, would be just that. It can sound like special pleading, a veiled avoidance of responsibility. 

What then? We need, at least, to live forgiveness – as best we can. And to do that most of us need to learn it, even to understand it, before we can practise it. Forgiveness brings us into the realm of gratuitousness, of sheer gift – offered and received. It moves beyond justice to mercy, beyond debt and its cancellation to love, relationship and truly shared intimacy. Our learning can take practical shape in accepting and respecting the human dignity of those with whom we disagree or who don’t like us. We can discipline ourselves to listen, and to listen compassionately, suspecting that the voice of criticism, the shout of anger, is often the cry of pain. As members of a pilgrim Church, we need to find the humility to say, and to mean, “We hurt you. We were wrong. We are sorry.” Like the crucified Jesus, we must be open to carry the world’s pain in ourselves.