The better question to ask, of course, is not what would Jesus think if he were to walk into our worship space some Sunday morning, but rather, can we typical Sunday morning Catholics, recognize Jesus in our churches as the early Christians recognized him after the resurrection?

I think there are two ways to answer that question and the answers are in the scriptures for this Second Sunday in Easter season.

The first answer comes from the Acts of the Apostles the book that describes what those early Christian communities looked like. The first thing you will notice is that they were not Mega Churches where three or four thousand folks gathered. They were simply small gatherings of perhaps a couple dozen families, from the same neighborhood where everyone knew each other and surely felt committed to each other: Poor and rich, famous and not so famous, even of different nationalities.

How does that compare to the church, the Christian community, we are part of? Can I find Jesus present in that person sitting next to me even though I may not know his or her name or even recognize his different nationality? After all, we both go by the name Christian, do we not? That should be enough to bond us into the community of Jesus.

Secondly, that reading from Acts says that the early Christians celebrated Eucharist in a very simple way: They devoted themselves to the breaking of the bread and to prayers. They also shared what common goods they had. So, the question: Despite how different our Church looks today, despite all the elements that have been added to our liturgy over the years, can we still recognize Jesus in this community? Can we find him again in the simple act of the breaking of bread and prayers?

The third element mentioned in that reading is that those early Christians were a happy lot. They “ate their meals with exultation!” The question is: How happy do we seem to be on a typical Sunday? Do these Christians gathering for the ten o’clock Mass look like they believe in the resurrection? Could a stranger recognize them as joyful people if he or she happened to drift in on a Sunday morning?

I realize to, of course, that a lot of history has happened in our Church over the years, but my point is that it would be a nice idea for all of us to compare ourselves to those early Christians, perhaps even to simplify our worship so that Jesus would continue to become evident to us when we gather.

Now we turn to that nice little story of Thomas, “the doubter,” who had such a hard time being convinced that it was still the same Jesus he met on that day after Jesus’ death and resurrection.

I have always had a certain compassion for Thomas: He refused to take things for granted. He knew that Jesus had been killed and now he is told that Jesus is still living! It might take a lot to convince any of us that a friend of ours, whom we knew had died, has suddenly reappeared alive. “Give me proof,” we’d say, just as Thomas said: “Let me touch, please.”

It’s so easy, of course, two thousand years after the event to say: “What’s the matter with this guy?” What should it take to convince him? Remember, however, we have two thousand years of reflection on all this, lots of theology. It’s so easy for us to simply say: “Hey, just believe; it’s ok.”

The more important question to ask, however, is not the one about Thomas, but rather to ask: Is our faith in the risen Jesus strong enough to find Him not in the flesh or the wounds as Thomas was asked to do. Rather the question to ask is this: Can we still find Jesus in the symbols that the early Church has left us, those signs that say, Jesus is present, but not necessarily in the flesh, in a human way?

How much of an effort do we make, for instance, to pay careful attention to the gospel, the words of Jesus, as they are proclaimed on a Sunday? Has the Mass, the Eucharist gotten a little “threadbare” for us over the years, a little “same-same” after having celebrated it Sunday after Sunday? Like those early Christians, can we still get excited about coming together on Sunday? Are we still convinced that it is worth the effort to throw our whole being into this one wonderful hour of prayer? Can we allow these sacred moments simply to become the “same-old-same –old” week after week?

Finally, like Thomas, the apostle, perhaps we should insist that all we are really hoping for during that hour on Sunday is to be back in touch with Jesus. It worked pretty well for Thomas. With a little effort, it should work for us too.

The scriptures: Acts 2: 42-47; 1 Peter 1: 3-9; John 20: 19-31