In December 2005 it was announced on the Irish news that a man called Denis Donaldson from Northern Ireland, one of Sinn Féin’s top men (Sinn Féin is the political wing of the IRA), confessed to having been a British spy for twenty years. People were amazed that this could happen. It seems that he could not live with his conscience any longer and so he came out into the open and confessed his double life. He then had to go into hiding, and sadly, though not surprisingly, he was killed four months later. God be merciful to him. I remember thinking at the time that he must have been living in terrible fear. Fear of being hunted down and killed. He had betrayed many, and now he would be afraid of what they would do to him. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
2000 years earlier on Holy Thursday night, out of fear the Apostles had all abandoned Jesus, who they believed was the Son of God. Judas had betrayed him for money. Peter tried to be faithful, but ended up publicly swearing that he never knew Jesus. They all betrayed him. Now after Easter they are locked in the upper room afraid. Why are they afraid? One: because they could face the same punishment as Jesus since they were his associates. Two: perhaps they were also afraid of what God would do to them. They had betrayed the Son of God. It is a very human response to be afraid of God when we feel we have betrayed him in some way, by the way we live, or by something we have done.
Then something beautiful happens. Jesus is suddenly standing with them in the room and he says: ‘Peace be with you.’ The first thing he does is to take away their fear. There are no words of condemnation for having abandoned him a few days before. There are no words of judgement on how they were unable to be faithful. Instead: ‘Peace be with you.’ ‘It’s alright.’
I don’t know about you, but I can certainly say that I have often felt that I have betrayed Jesus and indeed sometimes wish I was not a priest, when my own sinfulness gets the better of me. And in case you think I am just trying to be holy by saying this, I am not. I am a sinner. That is one thing that God has left me under no illusions about. Sometimes I think it would be better for me not to be a priest as I would not have to deal with what is sacred. I could run and hide, so to speak. Think of Peter when Jesus worked the miracle of the great catch of fish. Peter’s reaction was, ‘Leave me Lord I am a sinful man.’ Yet when Jesus appears to the Apostles, the first thing He does is to put them at ease. ‘Peace be with you.’
Each time in the mass when we recall this wish of Jesus to give us his peace—which is not just a universal prayer for peace, but a reminder of what Jesus said to his followers—He is saying, ‘Do not be afraid, because I am not here to condemn you, even if you deserve to be condemned. Peace be with you.’ God only wants us to come closer to him and to know that He is not going to act as we do to each other, with frowns or giving out. He knows what we are like. He knows that we betray him, but He still tells us to be at peace. I for one, find that very comforting.
Think too of Thomas who in his grief at the death of Jesus, would not take the words of others to convince him that Jesus was alive. When you are grieving you don’t want someone else to give you false hope, because it is too painful. And then when Jesus did appear to him He was so kind in helping him to believe. No giving out, but instead Jesus offered Thomas to put his finger into his wounds, so that he would believe. No condemnation for not being good enough; only encouragement. That is characteristic of the Lord: He always encourages us and assures us that He is with us to help us in every way.
Today we also celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday, which very much ties into this. The Lord is only interested in showing us his extraordinary mercy. And no matter how much we have sinned or turned our back on the Lord, it only takes the slightest reaching out on our part to open the flood gates of his mercy. That is what the Lord teaches us.
‘Peace be with you. Do not be afraid.’