Ah, poor Thomas, late to the party and thus left out of rejoicing. I will not believe, he asserts, even though all the others say that Jesus is risen and has returned. We are sometimes slow to catch on. There is no proof that Thomas needed to put his finger in Christ’s wounds in the end but he does believe when he encounters the Risen Christ. I am sure he is never the same, as many of us who are healed of our disbelief and fears.
One of the lines from the latest movie version of A Wrinkle in Time that struck me was by the Persian poet Rumi as quoted by Mrs. Who: The wound is the place where the light enters you. I could not help but think of the Canadian poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen’s lyrics: There is a crack in everything/That’s how the light gets in. Our wounds are our greatest teachers in some ways if we allow them to be. Christ offered his wounds to us as an example of how they can be transformed.
St. Ignatius was wounded in battle in Pamplona and brought back to his home of Loyola to recover. His forced recuperation was the beginning of his conversion experience. His wound healed his soul. The light permeated him as he lay in bed reading the lives of the saints. His dreams of being a knight dissipated as his faith caught fire.
Our wounds are scary–perhaps that is partially why Jesus greets his followers with peace be with you. They have never experienced the Resurrected One and would naturally be frightened to see him alive but his wounds are part of his glorious identity now. What if we were to accept our wounds as part of our glorious nature and allow them to transform us and those around us?
Which wound does the light need to enter for you?
Do you believe that the wound you carry can transform you and others?
Resurrected-Wounded-One, show us how to accept our wounds and use them to help heal ourselves and others. May we always know that the light will transform the darkness. Amen.