Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 08 July 2026

It has been three days since Sunday when we heard Jesus calling us to “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Mt.11:28-30).

It is one of the shortest and most memorable passage in the gospel but, how do we really come to Jesus in order to rest and feel light?

The good news is, it is Jesus who actually comes to us first, inviting us to come to him to find rest and feel light. Exactly like at the meeting of the Risen Lord and Thomas the Apostle eight days after Easter as narrated to us by John. You will recall that last Friday was the Feast of St. Thomas the Apostle (June 3) when I presented in my homily Caravaggio’s painting called The Incredulity of Thomas done in 1602. This is the second time I have used a painting by this renowned Italian painter said to be the favorite of the late Pope Francis too.

Thomas “refused” to believe the Apostles’ news to him that Jesus had risen, saying that “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (Jn.10:25).

Many times we are like Thomas, a Didymus, with a twin in life like doubt and certainty, belief and unbelief, darkness and light.

Like Thomas, we say unconsciously that “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (Jn.10:25) because it is when we are suffering, when we are in darkness, when we are in doubt when we truly search and long for God and Jesus.

It is not that Thomas nor we could not believe that Jesus had risen or doubted Christ at all; actually, Thomas believed in Jesus that is why he came on the eighth day to await the Lord’s coming in the same manner that we still pray despite our “doubts”.

 Now a week later, his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:26-28)

See the artistry of Caravaggio in this painting, that characteristic play of light and darkness emanating from Jesus, illuminating Thomas and his elder Apostles Peter and John.

All darkness in life are diminished, even vanished completely when we bring everything and everyone in the light of Jesus Christ who comes to us to enlighten us, to illumine us from many darkness we go through in life like Thomas on that night of the eighth day of Easter.

But, there is more to the light of Christ that we can see in this Caravaggio painting.

Amid its stillness and silence, one could feel deeply Jesus Christ’s words last Sunday – come to me – echoed softly, personally, lovingly to Thomas. And to each one of us today.

John tells us that Jesus simply said to Thomas to “Put your finger here and see my hands, bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God” (Jn.20:27-28).

Okay, fine… it is just my imagination or my contemplation that I heard Christ’s words last Sunday echoed in this scene, “come to me and I will give you rest” but, there is something so beautiful and deeply personal with Jesus in saying or implying those same words here. You can hear it so close, so near you, not from afar especially when you consider its Filipino translation of “Lumapit kayo sa akin” or the informal “Halikayo at lumapit sa akin” that both indicate a separation of even a few feet away from Jesus who is calling us.

See the proximity of the four people in this painting. That is how close Jesus gets to us whenever he comes to us, inviting us to come to him in order to find rest especially in those dark moments in our lives, when we feel hurt and abandoned. When we are so stressed out as seen in those wrinkles on the foreheads of the three apostles!

Contrast their images to the serenity of Jesus. Most of all, see also the hands of Jesus, of how his left hand with the nail wound visible moving aside his garment so that Thomas and his companions may see further his pierced side.

Whenever Jesus comes to us, calling us to come to him to show us his wounds from the cross to remind us that before all our pains and hurts came, he was there first to suffer and be wounded and died for us.

And he has come to us again, calling us to come to him because he had risen, assuring us that all our wounds like his will heal eventually! That is when we experience rest. And being light in life.

But, what I love most in this painting is the way Caravaggio depicted the Risen Lord holding the hand of Thomas while probing into his side wound:

How lovely! Caravaggio must be in the highest heaven when he painted this part.

Remember when Thomas dared to say unless he sees the nail marks in the Lord’s hands and put his hand at his side, he would not believe?

Jesus knew it so well not only with Thomas but with each one of us, of our being a Didymus, always with a twin of doubt so that he does not merely appear but touches us to experience deeply, personally his loving presence through his wounds.

See how Caravaggio depicted the left hand of Jesus again with the mark of nail holding the very hand of Thomas, directing his finger into his pierced side. You could feel the sure grip as well as gentleness of the Lord’s hand in leading the finger of Thomas into his pierced side wound. So dramatic as if it is not enough for Jesus to being present but most of all, experienced as closest at possible.

Jesus touches us always, literally and figuratively by holding our wounded selves to experience his wounded self too. He does not only call us in words but leads us with his total self.

Christ’s invitation for us to “come to him” remains personal and personalized. Not mass produced like what is happening these days where speed and reach are the main considerations, not the person.

While writing this piece yesterday, one of the blogs I follow came out with a new article exactly about last Sunday’s gospel scene, claiming that if God texts us today, these very words to “come to me” by Jesus would be his “text message” to us (https://thedevotionalguy.blog/2026/07/07/if-god-sent-you-a-text/).

I believe so. Because text messages have become the closest things we can have of anyone in these days of social media. However, if ever you receive that text message from Jesus, run outside to meet him personally for surely, he had come. Amen. God bless you.