I didn’t hear any of the stories that were about a man finding Jesus’ bones.
Or find any article on the internet that gave evidence that Jesus was a ordinary man.
Or hear any anti- Christ songs, lately.
Yet, there I was. In a state worse than Doubting Thomas could be in.
I went to church every Sunday, attended all the necessary services, confessed to a man I didn’t even know well, and said my prayers, daily.
I never questioned the power of God, His existence, or any other of the ‘what, why, how and where’s.
So I should be pretty okay to pass this Holy Saturday, shouldn’t I?
I’m a God fearing, obedient, non-questioning Catholic.
There’s nothing more I can do.
In our church, we usually have a cross with a wooden Jesus nailed to it put up on Good Friday. The service in the evening is almost 3 hours long, the usual mass along with unveiling the body of Jesus on the cross, ending with getting him down, and setting him in a tomb, where we get to go pray and pay respects.
On Holy Saturday too, people sit outside the made up tomb and pray, ask for forgiveness, and bless and praise the Lord. I went there too. I actually went to decorate my family grave with flowers. But then passed the tomb, and sat outside. Not praying. But wondering.
I wondered. Or rather, I asked, what is it that makes these people around me come here and sit for hours together and pray to you? What do they pray for? What do they ask? Do they get the things they ask for? And if they don’t, why day after day, they still come here, to this church, or even in their houses, pray to you? Maybe if you could show me what makes them so determined, maybe I could be like them too. See what they see. Not blindly doing things because people say I’m supposed to do it. But do it because-
By now my feet were already walking into the tomb. Jesus lay there, inside an enclosure. Garlands all over him, flowers, and coins. I stretched my hand forward through the little gap in the enclosure and touched his palm.
But because I Believe.
The touch felt real. And it was real, because it was wood. But what was more real, was the spirit inside me that awoke. The answer that I acquired from my own thoughts.
Thomas did whatever he had to do as a disciple. Just as we do whatever we have to do as Christians. And we think our duty is done. That we are being good Christians. But are we really? Is it enough to just do without consent?
“Blessed are those who cannot see and yet believe.”
I’m sure none of us want to be one of those who ask to put their hand into the savior’s side, and see the holes in his palms. But since we are humans, and we are feeble, we surely sometimes make mistakes. But we all have a chance to overcome it, to undo it.
And what better day, than on the day our Lord rose from the dead, and freed us from our sins?
When I came out of the tomb, I was different person. I mean… I was the same person.. only who believed and had faith.
“^Bro, you need to get out of there, ASAP. Will be waiting for ya, on the other side.”
(What I said when I got out of the tomb.)