"Who is this Jesus who can walk through doors but keeps the wounds on his hands and feet and side? [...] we don't have to be afraid of our woundedness."

This was a bit from last Sunday's homily where the gospel was on doubting Thomas (John 20:24-29?). I was very touched though, by the idea of not being afraid of our wounds. So often we try to hide and cover them up, and we try to make people believe that we're perfect, but our wounds are after all, things to be proud of no?

They scream "I have been through battle, and come out hurt but not defeated." You have thrown your words at me - sticks and stones to break my bones. I've emerged black and blue. But the tearful gashes in my heart have found a way to knit themselves together and mend. My soul is an irregular patchwork of skipped stitches, a sight to behold, but we never have to be afraid of our woundedness.

Jesus walks through the doors of our hearts, the ones closed off to people, because we fear - there are who've hurt us so many times that we cry when we think of them. Yet he quietly enters, shows us his wounds, and tells us "peace be with you." Perhaps there will be peace to come in spite of our woundedness. No, we never need be afraid of our wounds.