St. Thomas' Mass

On the Feast of St. Thomas, I would like to share a poem by one of our Sisters who reflects on the Doubting Apostle's ongoing act of faith.

St. Thomas’ Mass

This is my Body—

That Body pierced for me,

Passing through doors of wood that day

And harder doors of my soul’s stubbornness.

His eyes were proof enough for me

That day he came

Drawing me from my hiding place of shame

Among the other ten.

I thought only of repairing then,

Fearing that His risen Heart

Could still bleed for me,

I said that which none had dared to say:

“My Lord, my God!”

This is my Blood—

That Blood outpoured for me

Now caught and held in this

Blessed cup, its opening

One round wound upon His Heart.

“Thomas, take you hand,”

Yes, daily I hold you and

Constantly probe those wounds.

My being and Yours united in

This mystery, yet I unperceiving,

So my faith too, You bless.

Take then, my people

My children of India,

Take and eat.

Blessed are you

Who have not seen

And have believed.