Mercy Sunday--Sunday after Easter

A religious sister in the Catholic Times gives readers a meditation on Mercy Sunday, the week after Easter. 

The resurrected Jesus shows His wounds to His disciples. He repeats this twice. The Lord “came”, stood among the disciples and showed them the wounds on His hands and side. This reveals that the resurrection is not an event that erased the cross, but a presence of love bearing wounds. 

The disciples’ fear and Thomas’s doubt begin to crumble in the face of these wounds. The nail marks and the spear wound in Jesus' side are not traces of failure, but signs revealing the truth of the resurrection. Through these wounds, the disciples recognize that the resurrected One is the very one who was crucified, and their fear turns into joy. Furthermore, these wounds become the decisive turning point that transforms Thomas's doubt into faith.

That evening, the risen Lord comes to the disciples who had locked their doors in fear.  Eight days later, He comes again for Thomas, who remained in doubt. The fact that the risen Lord came to the same place twice tells us that the resurrection does not end as a single past event. Jesus is not one who abandoned His disciples and left, but one who comes again to give hope. He does not give up on those who are afraid or doubting, but enters among them even when the doors are closed. The Lord is one who still comes to us in this way today.

The coming of the Risen Lord holds profound significance for the disciples. Although the disciples neither invited the Lord nor were prepared to welcome Him, the Lord sought them out first. The Lord's love transcends human preparation and qualification. Furthermore, the fact that He came "even though the doors were locked" reveals the Lord's transcendent presence, which no barrier can block. Moreover, the Lord "stands among" the disciples, ensuring that faith in the resurrection does not remain merely an individual experience but becomes a community faith. He also embraces even Thomas's doubts, demonstrating His patience and mercy, which exclude no one. 

Today, Divine Mercy Sunday, reminds us of this very truth. Why did the Lord ask Thomas to touch His wounds? It was not to test Thomas. Moreover, it was not a rebuke for his unbelief, but rather an act of mercy inviting his doubts.  Jesus' wounds are the door of God's mercy opened to the world. To Thomas, the Lord's wounds must have been a place of pain left by failure and frustration. However, the Lord causes faith to be born right there. Finally, Thomas says, “My Lord and my God”. 

This confession is the culmination of the faith that the entire Gospel of John has led, and the most perfect language of faith in the resurrection. Thomas no longer demands proof. It does not even matter whether he touched the wounds. To him, Jesus is no longer 'Him', but becomes 'my Lord'. As the Apostle Peter says, “God has made us born again in His great mercy,” giving us a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This new birth does not mean a life without wounds. Faith in the resurrection is the courage to confess, “My Lord and my God,” even while carrying doubt and wounds. 

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who believe without seeing.” Although we have never seen Him, we love Him; and even though we cannot see Him now, we believe in Him and live within His mercy. Today's Gospel asks us: Are we still demanding evidence, locking the doors of our hearts in fear and doubt? However, the Risen Lord does not turn away from us; He comes to us by crossing the closed doors of our hearts. On Divine Mercy Sunday, we remember that Jesus' wounds are within the wounds of those who suffer today. The Lord's mercy, which does not turn away from their wounds, leads us to the faith of the Resurrection.

The Old Testament Law of Holiness

What Is the Old Testament Law of Holiness? An article in the Catholic Times offers readers some insight into this teaching from a scripture professor emeritus.

Salt symbolizes the unchanging covenant with God and prevents corruption, as stated in Scripture: “You shall season every grain offering with salt” (Leviticus 2:13). It leads us to meditate on the Law of Holiness, whose essence lies not merely in the regulations themselves but in the sanctification of humanity. 

Let us take a moment to explore the “Law of Holiness” found in Leviticus chapters 17 through 26. Also known as the Code of Holiness, the laws of holiness are based on the words, “I, the Lord your God, am holy; you must therefore be holy” (Leviticus 19:2). The Israelites, the people chosen by God Himself, have a duty to participate in the holiness of the Lord God. “You must consecrate yourselves and be holy.” (Leviticus 20:7)

The core of the Holiness Code lies in the continuous sanctification of the people of Israel. So, what exactly does the sanctification of God’s chosen people entail? First, whether slaughtering an animal or offering it as a sacrifice, one must not consume its blood. “If anyone eats any kind of blood, I will set my face against that person and cut them off from their people. For the life of every creature is in its blood.” (Leviticus 17:10-11)

At that time, blood was viewed as the life (soul) of every living creature. Eating blood or handling it carelessly was seen as an attempt to usurp the place of God, the Lord of all living things, and was therefore considered an act of blasphemy against Him.

All acts of sexual relations outside of marriage, the offering of children as sacrifices, and bestiality were strictly forbidden. “Whoever commits any of these abominations—whoever does any of these things—shall be cut off from his people.” (Leviticus 18:29)

Leviticus goes on to emphasize the need to honor the Lord God and one’s parents, as well as to love one’s neighbor as oneself. “I, the Lord your God, am holy; you must be holy. Each of you must honor your mother and father. You must keep my Sabbaths.” (Leviticus 19:2–3)

We see the penalties for very serious sins. “If anyone sacrifices their child to Molech, that person shall be put to death.” (Leviticus 20:2) We see regulations regarding the sanctity of the priesthood and the maintenance of dignity. “Priests shall not shave their heads, trim the corners of their beards, or make cuts in their bodies… They shall not profane the name of their God… A priest is a holy person to his God.” (Leviticus 21:5-7)

There is also a commandment to treat offerings with reverence. “Tell Aaron and his sons: Handle the holy offerings that the Israelites present to me with care, so that you do not profane my holy name.” (Leviticus 22:2)

A Power that Gives Life

The Religious Peace Scholar of the Catholic University of Korea, in the Ark's Window column in the Catholic Times, reminds us that all things change.

To change means to move, and to move means that a force is acting to cause that movement. In physics, the physical quantity (such as length or time) applied to an object when moving a bicycle or lifting a stone is called “force.”

Force also has directionality. The force used to push a cart and the force used to pull it are equal in magnitude but differ in direction. There is a gravitational force that pulls objects toward each other, and there is a repulsive force that pushes them apart. The same force can be used to build a building or to bring it down.

There are forces that give life and forces that take it, even when their magnitudes are the same. There are also forces such as political power and financial power. These are forces that shape human relationships through money, status, and honor. Military power manifests as the offensive or defensive capability of an individual or a group. A nation’s strength is also determined by its power, wealth, and military might. These are the forces that ordinary people in the real world take for granted.

These forces share a common trait: they compete by prioritizing magnitude. Since superiority is determined by size and intensity, hierarchies emerge, and discrimination is accepted as normal. People strive to suppress others and rise above them. Everyone competes to build up their own power. Yet the more they do so, the more anxious those building it become. The paradox of “security anxiety”—where the pursuit of security paradoxically breeds anxiety—is an inevitable consequence for everyone, not only those who are accumulating power for their own sake.

And that is not all. The demands of a results-oriented society that urges us to create two more after making one, the shackles of neoliberalism that champion free competition, and the contradiction where “human intelligence” is pushed aside the more artificial intelligence is developed—these contradictions continue to amplify. Short-sighted humans use this power to enjoy short-term gains, only to find themselves enslaved by it before they even realize it. They even drive non-human beings into a world of death. Is there any hope? What kind of power should we pursue, and in what direction?

Physicist Michael Faraday (1791–1867) believed that all forces were merely various forms of a single, universal force. He viewed a vast reality—existing prior to and independent of objects yet lacking the properties of objects—as the source of change in the physical world. From this, he developed “Field Theory,” which posits that this “field of force” manifests as individual natural phenomena. In other words, lowercase “forces” emerge and move within the capitalized “Force”.

However, while physics explains the structure and principles of force, it does not inquire into its value or direction. In contrast, there are those who question the value of force and seek to move in the direction that values other points. Movements aimed at finding and embodying the right values within the force that moves all things have also persisted. Religion is a prime example.

Jesus said, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matthew 5:45) This is a call to recognize the values of universality and fairness within the vast field of God’s power, and to transcend discrimination and alienation.

Since there is no dichotomy of good and evil, or justice and injustice, within God’s power, there must be no more killing of others. Both the great and the small, the many and the few, are part of God’s perfect world. God is the source of life, sustaining all living things. We are called to realize this principle and move toward a path of sustaining all life, rather than killing others. This is likely the message of the Solemnity of the Resurrection of the Lord.

Resurrection is not a selfish concept reserved for those who kill others to save themselves. A life that reveals the fundamental truth that God’s sun and rain shine upon and fall upon everyone is a life of resurrection. This is because God is a power that gives life, not a power that takes it.

The Meaning of Sunday!

‘Sunday’ in Remembrance of the New Creation Begun by the Resurrection is an article presented in the Catholic Times.

Sunday is the ‘eighth day,’ the day following the Sabbath, and signifies the new creation that began with Christ’s resurrection. 

Sunday is a day of rest. If asked about its origin, many people would likely answer, “Because God created the world and rested on the seventh day.” However, the day that commemorates this “seventh day”—the Sabbath—is Saturday, not Sunday.

As you well know, the third commandment of the Ten Commandments is “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” Yet, if we look at the Bible, the Ten Commandments state, “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8). The Bible tells us to keep the “Sabbath,” so why are we keeping “Sunday”?

The Sabbath is a day to praise God and to remember God’s work of creation. There is another reason why the Sabbath was established. The Bible tells us, “Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. This is why the Lord your God commands you to observe the Sabbath” (Deuteronomy 5:15). The Sabbath is, in fact, a holy day that commemorates “God’s salvation”.

Some of you may be thinking of “Passover.” That is correct. Just as Jesus, as the “Lamb of God,” became the sacrificial offering and fulfilled the Passover through the Eucharist, so too was the Sabbath fulfilled through Jesus.

In fact, the Sabbath was used as a pretext by those who opposed Jesus to attack Him. This was because the miracles Jesus performed and the activities of His disciples were seen as violating the Sabbath regulations. To such people, Jesus taught, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27), thereby proclaiming that Jesus, the “Son of Man,” is the “Lord of the Sabbath.”

The Bible records that this event—in which Jesus, the Lord of the Sabbath, conquered death through His resurrection and saved us from sin—took place “as the Sabbath was ending and the first day of the week was dawning” (Matthew 28:1). The Church teaches that “the day following the Sabbath, the ‘eighth day,’ signifies the new creation that began with Christ’s Resurrection,” and that “for Christians, this day has become the first of all days, the first of all feasts, the Lord’s Day, and Sunday” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2174).

The Sabbath has been replaced by Sunday, which reminds us of the new creation that began with Jesus’ resurrection. Therefore, from the early Church onward, believers have kept Sunday holy rather than the Sabbath. This is why the Sabbath of the Ten Commandments was replaced by Sunday.

St. Ignatius of Antioch, a Church Father of the early Church, states, “Those who lived according to the old order have now gained a new hope; they no longer observe the Sabbath but live by observing the Lord’s Day,” adding, “Through the Lord and His death, our life has sprung forth on this day.”

Sunday is the Lord’s Day, the day Jesus rose from the dead. On this day of new creation, how are you being reborn?

Happy Easter!

 

 

The empty tomb is a mystery that is filled with emptiness. St. Augustine deeply understood the mystery of this “empty tomb.” The fact that the tomb is empty does not mean that Christ simply vanished, but that He rendered the realm of death null and void. In short, death has been conquered by death. Although John, the disciple whom the Lord loved, arrived before Peter, he stood outside the tomb and did not enter. This was both a sign of respect for his mentor, Peter, and a prudent spiritual attitude, waiting for the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies. Peter, who followed behind, entered the tomb without hesitation.

Here we find an important symbol: the “linen cloths” and the “face cloth” lying inside the tomb. St. Gregory the Great explains, “The fact that the linen cloths were neatly arranged proves that no one had stolen the body.” A thief would have hurriedly taken only the body, but the Risen Lord left the garments of death neatly arranged. This is clear evidence that the Lord has conquered death and has taken on a body of eternal life that will never die again.

“Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in. And he saw and believed” (John 20:8) speaks of an inner transformation from external signs to inner conviction. St. Thomas Aquinas emphasizes that this “seeing and believing” was not merely a confirmation of a physical emptiness, but the moment of spiritual realization of the biblical promise. This is because, up until that point, they had not fully grasped the Scripture’s teaching that Jesus must rise again from among the dead.

We are no different. What do we see in the tomb of our lives—that is, in the emptiness of despair, suffering, and wounds? If we see only “nothingness” and “loss” there, we remain outside the tomb. However, when we courageously step into that empty space, just as Peter and John did, we realize that, while traces of death remain, life has emerged and is present with us. This is the perspective of a believer who witnesses the Resurrection.

The Resurrection is the eternal light that illuminates our inner being. The spiritual writers of the Philokalia, the spiritual treasure of the Eastern Orthodox Church, do not confine the Resurrection to an event that occurred two thousand years ago. For them, the Resurrection is “the rekindling of the inner light through the purification of the heart (Hesychia).” St. Gregory of Sinai says this: “The Resurrection of Christ must take place daily within our souls. When the heart, once bound by passions, begins to shine through prayer, that is the moment when Lazarus rises within us, and the moment when the Lord opens the tomb and emerges.”

The Resurrection is not an external spectacle, but a spiritual event in which the Lord breaks through the tomb of “self-centeredness” within us. The Philokalia advises: “Guard your heart. For that is where the Lord was laid to rest, and at the same time, the place where He will rise.” When we quiet the turmoil of our hearts and abide in God’s presence, the light of the Risen Lord will shine upon our souls brighter than the sun.

What, then, should we carry as we step out of the church? The linen cloths of the empty tomb proclaim that the Lord is no longer bound by the power of death. Salvation has already been accomplished, but it was only on Easter Sunday morning that we fully realized this. Let us live as witnesses of the Resurrection. Let us leave behind the habits of sin and the shrouds of hatred in the tomb. The Resurrection is not a memory of the past but “the power of the present that transforms me.”

The Resurrection begins when I forgive my neighbor. When I reach out to those in despair, the heavy stone of the tomb rolls away. Let us welcome the Risen Lord into our hearts today and run out into the vast field of the world. Just as the Lord went ahead of us to Galilee, He is already waiting for me in the midst of my daily life. 

The Pain of Holy Week and Love

The writer of this article on the website Catholic News Now and Here has studied liberation theology and engaged Buddhism and is exploring social spirituality. He serves as a research professor at the Institute for Theology at a Korean university while participating in a Christian network advocating for a world free from discrimination and hatred. 

As spring arrives ahead of Holy Week (Passion Week), Good Friday, the world is groaning in the flames of war. For some, every week is “Holy Week”—no, every single day is a “cross,” and they are suffering. A recent paper published in the international medical journal *The Lancet Global Health*, titled “Violent and Nonviolent Deaths in the Gaza Conflict,” estimates that between October 7, 2023, and January 5, 2025, approximately 75,200 Palestinians in the Gaza Strip died from direct war violence, including about 22,800 children and adolescents under the age of 18. Based on field investigations in Gaza, this figure is actually 34.7 percent higher than the official statistics of the Gaza Health Ministry, directly contradicting long-standing claims by Israel and the United States that the ministry’s statistics are false.

The exact number of casualties from Israel and the United States’ attacks on Iran remains unclear. However, the Iranian human rights organization HRANA announced that from February 28 to March 23, at least 1,443 civilians were killed, including at least 217 children. These figures likely include around 100 elementary school children from Shahzareh Tayebeh Elementary School in Minab who were killed on the first day of the war by a U.S. Tomahawk missile strike.

What matters is not abstract “numbers,” but concrete “people.” In response to accusations from perpetrators that the death toll has been exaggerated, the Gaza Health Ministry has published on its website the names and personal information of the deceased in both Arabic and English. This is a way for the victims to assert their existence and for others to mourn their absence. Reading through the names of children and adolescents on that website, one imagines their youthful faces. For children born into war, living in war, and dying in war, “life itself was war.” Many of them likely perished without ever knowing what life outside of war was, or why they had to die.

Witnessing such horrific war and ecological devastation fills us with overwhelming fear. One common human response to such fear is “paralysis.” When the pain is so great that it feels impossible to escape, people choose “numbness.” This applies not only to their own suffering but also to the suffering of others. Fearing that feeling others’ pain might endanger their own lives, people shut the doors of their senses. This is what Dorothee Sölle criticized as “apathy toward suffering.” We may feel a moment of compassion when we see news of others’ pain, but fearing the burden of that pain, we quickly retreat into our daily lives. We treat others’ suffering as unrelated to us, excusing ourselves by saying there is nothing we can do.

For Christians, Holy Week is a time to meditate on the suffering and love of Jesus Christ. Jesus’ suffering was the result of love, and his love began with a non-dual sensitivity to the suffering of others. One day, as Jesus and his disciples approached the town of Nain, they encountered a funeral procession for a young man—the only son of a widow. Seeing the woman who had lost both her husband and her only son, Jesus felt “compassion,” approached her, and said, “Do not weep,” comforting her before bringing the young man back to life.

The expression translated as “compassion” in this story does not fully convey what Jesus felt in that moment. Different Bible translations render it as “pity,” “have mercy,” or “feel sorry,” but none fully captures his heart as he faced the grieving widow. The Greek word used in the Gospels, *splagchnizomai* (σπλαγχνίζομαι), goes beyond simple sympathy or compassion—it refers to a pain so intense it feels as though one’s intestines are being torn apart. It is a heart that feels others’ suffering so deeply that it is accompanied by physical pain—a heart that grieves and aches together with them. That is the heart of Jesus.

Reflecting on Jesus’ heart, one recalls the meaning of “tears” taught and embodied by Pope Francis during his lifetime. On April 16, 2016, when the Mediterranean Sea was called “the world’s largest mass grave” due to the deaths of refugees, the Pope visited a refugee camp on the Greek island of Lesbos, comforting and caring for refugees. He then returned to the Vatican with three Muslim refugee families, a total of 12 people. On the plane, the Pope showed reporters a drawing by an Afghan refugee boy. It depicted a sun weeping as it looked down on a sinking boat and refugees struggling in the water. Holding the drawing, the Pope said, “If the sun can cry, we can cry too.” People called this empathetic teaching the “theology of tears.”

Sölle described “apathy toward others’ suffering” as “the inability to love.” This means that sensing others’ pain and sorrow is both the premise and the purpose of love. 

 The world is filled with crosses. To grieve and suffer together with all beings nailed to these social and ecological crosses, with a heart that feels as if it is being torn apart—and to seek and act upon whatever we can do so that there will be no more unjust deaths—that is the heart of Jesus we must learn during Holy Week and especially today, Good Friday.

Joy and Sadness of Holy Week

One of the writers in the Catholic Times offers a meditation on the new life Jesus gives us.

Tim

As I’ve lived my life, I’ve found that there are now more people who have gone to heaven than those with whom I’ve formed new bonds. It seems that many of the people I loved and respected are now in heaven. In fact, since death is a reality we all face at this very moment, regardless of age, I look to Father Gerhard Loepf’s *Understanding Death, Resurrection, and Eternal Life* for some insight.

We often think of Jesus’ death as the final act of a transcendent hero. However, Father Röpke points out that Jesus’ death was one of utter “helplessness.” He was neither a superhero who made a dramatic escape from the cross nor a magician who could erase suffering in an instant. Like us—no, even more poignantly than us—He stood face to face with death. In that moment of utter helplessness, Jesus entrusted Himself completely to the Father. Through this very “surrender,” He personally demonstrated that death is an act of the deepest trust, a leap into the hands of God.

Death feels like vanishing forever into pitch-black darkness. But this book states unequivocally: The true name of death is “encounter.” The moment we close our eyes, we do not face darkness, but the face of the One who formed and loved us. Like the moment we finally embrace someone we have longed for, death is the most intense encounter where every fragment of life comes together and our true self is fully revealed. Therefore, death is not a source of fear, but perhaps the greatest source of anticipation.

Of course, we cannot simply be filled with excitement. For in that moment, we stand before the mirror that is God. A mirror before which nothing can be hidden. The mistakes I have made, my selfishness, and the moments I failed to love are laid bare. This is what “judgment” truly is. Yet it is not a courtroom drama where a judge bangs down the gavel. It is the feeling of shame we experience in the face of overwhelming love—that, in itself, is judgment. “Why couldn’t I have loved more?” This book tells us that this agonizing regret is itself the “purifying fire.” It is not a punishment but a healing. It is the process of shaping us into people of complete love.

Will we, having been resurrected, float around like ghosts? No. This book tells us that we are resurrected along with our “physical bodies.” This means that all the joys and sorrows I experienced in life, the people I loved, and the stories I built through hard work—all of it enters into God. The love and devotion we shared in this world, even the smallest efforts that went unnoticed by anyone, do not disappear. They all become the building blocks of resurrection and shine eternally.

There is another fascinating point. In God’s time, there are no clock hands as we know them. At the moment we take our last breath, we step out of the framework of time and enter the “eternal present.” That moment is the end, the Second Coming, and the Resurrection. We do not wait tediously in a cold grave for our turn; rather, the moment we die, we enter God’s Eternal Time.