They say that no good deed goes unpunished. Today's reading from Acts depicts the irony of the human mindset at just about any time in history. What leads us to react negatively to someone who is doing good? Is it that they are not part of our party — be it the Sadducees, the Republicans or the Democrats? Is it that they did the good thing in a way that we didn't like or was in competition with us? Perhaps we just don't like the person and nothing they do can seem good to us.

Peter and his companions were arrested for doing a good deed — for healing a cripple. As Peter explains why he did what he did, we see how he was interiorizing Jesus' way of being. As Acts tells the story, Peter claimed no glory or power for himself, but explained that all he did was done in the name of Jesus. 

That obviously rankles the powers who had recently approved of Jesus' execution. They thought they were done with him — but not only did his newly audacious disciples declare that he lived, they acted like him and went about doing what he did. Instead of dying, the Jesus movement was spreading!

This story offers a prelude to the Gospel of the good shepherd. The selection we read today says nothing about the good shepherd abandoning 99 and going after one. Rather, here we meet the pastor who says that he will do anything — even give his life — for his sheep. 

Jesus contrasts a good shepherd with one who works for pay rather than for love of the sheep. Folks like that aren't necessarily bad, but they aren't much good when evil strikes and divides the flock. 

A key to understanding the good shepherd is that she or he (many women tend sheep) knows the sheep and they know their shepherd. That knowledge is more than the ability to recognize a voice or a familiar figure. 

The knowledge Jesus is talking about — now referring to people — is an intimate, interior knowledge. Those who know one another like this are bound together from their insides out. Jesus claims that their mutual relationship mirrors his relationship with God the Father. They exist in one another more purposely, consciously and lovingly than unborn children live in their mothers' wombs. 

The First Letter of John describes this relationship with God by calling us children of God. It echoes John 1:13, explaining that we are born, not in the natural way, but by God's own decision. 

In a sense, we might understand our being born of God as the process and goal of our lives. In nature, we are born as God's creatures, part of the creation that naturally exists in God. Being born of God or being children of God adds unfathomable quality to that natural state of blessedness. 

Now we turn back to Peter.

Peter claimed that he did what he did "in the name" of Jesus. This isn't about magic words or power. This is Peter's way of saying that he lives in Christ and Christ in him. Peter has known the earthly Jesus and the risen Christ and he has made a choice to live in Christ. 

It's a new and humbling state for him. At last, like Paul, he could say, "I live, no longer I, but Christ in me" (Galatians 2:20). 

This is what Peter preached to the religious leaders. He proclaimed that the resurrection of Jesus Christ opened up a new route to God. He wasn't simply talking about a new belief; he was explaining the Spirit-given power that allowed him to enter ever-more purposely and consciously into the very life of God, participating in the unity of the one flock continually being gathered by the Good Shepherd.

Today's readings invite us into long and oft-repeatable contemplation and action. They invite us to stand alongside Peter and search our hearts until we can explain why it is that we do what we do and what kind of power we are exercising. 

Jesus' image of the good shepherd is another variation on the theme we hear throughout John's Gospel: The Son of God became flesh in order to draw us into unity with God and one another, a unity that can be called eternal life.

For Peter, as for us, taking in and taking on the effects of the Resurrection is the task of a lifetime. We accomplish it at least as much in action as in contemplation. While we can believe much about Jesus, the real invitation is to believe "through him and with him and in him," becoming ever-more identified with him by loving whom he loves and allowing him to work through us.

As it starts out, today's Gospel seems redundant, repeating last week's scene in which Jesus appeared among the disciples. But there are some key differences. 

First of all, today's event took place while the disciples from Emmaus were explaining how Jesus had been with them on the road and at table. Secondly, Luke says nothing about locked doors. Finally, and most significantly, the disciples were disturbed by Jesus' presence, not the danger posed by their adversaries.

Disturbance, astonishment and fear are normal responses to an encounter with God or angels. (See Luke 1:12 and 1:29-30.) If a sunset can be literally breathtaking and the miracle of a newborn's life can move you to soul-shaking awe, how much more an encounter with God? Anyone with good sense would be overwhelmed at such an appearance. If not, or if the one appearing does not say, "Do not be afraid," the visitor is probably not a heavenly being.

Jesus asks the disciples, "Why are you troubled? Why do questions arise in your hearts?" Doesn't that sound like the most naive question in the world? 

Then Jesus went on to explain that his earthly end recapped all that he had lived among them. He had told them that evil would unleash all its power in the attempt to eliminate him. But when it did, they apparently concluded that their years with him had been a beautiful, challenging, but impossible dream. That was their state when he stood among them.

Not only did Jesus show them the scars of his confrontation with evil, he assured them that he was real. They couldn't grasp that until he "opened their minds to understand the Scriptures." 

Like all of us, the disciples had their own ideas about God's power and the role of a savior. Although their time with Jesus had been wonderful, they had succeeded spectacularly at evading his scandalous teachings about a savior in solidarity with all who suffer and a God who does not intervene in history by direct divine power. 

How many times had Jesus talked about being great by serving as the lowliest? They failed to grasp the fact that he was not just talking about what he was doing at the moment, but about the very character of God, who invites but never compels us to anything.

Awed and joyful as they were at Jesus' appearance, it still took them a long time to realize that if they were to be his, they would share in his own vulnerability. His hands and his feet told part of the story. His wounds put the wrath of evil on display, at the same time proclaiming that no evil, no suffering, no war or disaster can overpower the goodness of God.

This truth also told them that nothing they could ever do or say or think could stop God's love for them. As we see in today's first reading, Peter eventually came to understand that. Thus, he could reproach the people who had supported or been unconcerned about Jesus' crucifixion: "You denied the Holy and Righteous one, preferring a gangster. The author of life you put to death — not imagining that God would vindicate him by raising him up from the dead."

Peter followed that by saying, "I know you and your leaders acted out of ignorance."

Now that was a miracle! Peter accepted the fact that Jesus had mercy on his persecutors, saying that they knew not what they were doing (Luke 23:34). Peter had come around, finally understanding that the Messiah would suffer. 

Peter also realized that God can transform suffering, sin, brokenness and blindness into new experiences of grace if only we open ourselves to the Spirit. 

What does this tell us today as we see an overabundance of revenge acted out in Gaza and the ferocity of death-dealing evil in Ukraine and other countries like the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mozambique, India and Syria — to name only a few of far too many? 

Jesus told his disciples to be converted — that is, to assume a new vision of life. He wanted them to believe exactly what his cross revealed: The powers of oppression, hatred and clinging to dominating power will fail — not only in the end, but every time an innocent person stands up to them. That is why Jesus and his followers are so dangerous to the "great powers."

By appearing, Jesus invited the disciples to move beyond fear and incredulity and to begin to act on the belief that the only lasting power is love — and that such love disturbs the violent more than any weapon ever can. 

Faith in the Resurrection calls us into a bold new way of loving, knowing that with God's help such a love can never be conquered.

Seeing is believing. Is that today's theme? Perhaps.

Folks hear today's Gospel and think of Thomas the doubter. What about thinking of Thomas as the guy determined to walk the walk and not just talk the talk?

Consider it. How was Thomas to comprehend the meaning of what his companions told him when they said, "We have seen the Lord?" He knew these men and their tendency to believe what they wanted.

Maybe things would have been different if Thomas had conversed more with Mary Magdalene. He knew that he and the rest of the guys had steered clear of the cross while Mary and other women remained with Jesus in helpless, silent solidarity. (John is the only evangelist to put a male disciple there; that was "the beloved disciple" who plays a rich, symbolic role throughout his Gospel.)

On the other hand, Mary and her companions went seeking in spite of the hopelessness of the situation. They became the first witnesses to the Resurrection, thus, our sequence asks, "Speak, Mary, declaring what you saw wayfaring." 

And she responds, "Christ my hope is risen, to Galilee he goes before you!"

While the majority of the disciples hid in fear behind locked doors, Mary had gone out to find hope in the midst of tragedy. Whatever Thomas was doing, he was not hiding with the others. Was he, too, "wayfaring"? Was he looking for more than the others had offered him? 

What they said sounded delusional — and this was hardly the first time that he thought that way about their ideas. Doesn't it make sense that if the disciples really believed that Jesus had risen, they would no longer be in hiding, that they would be different?

At this point, Luke's description of the early community offers us some insight. Luke is bragging on the early community and the deep solidarity that flowed from their faith. Even if Luke exaggerates, he's holding up an ideal for us.

Luke tells us that after believing in the testimony of the apostles, the community responded by acting like people who had discovered the meaning of their lives and for whom nothing else mattered. Luke said that they were of one heart and mind. 

They demonstrated this by considering themselves such a unified community that everyone would seek what another needed. No one could even imagine hoarding; that would have undermined their new identity. Their love and concern included all: They were one. This was their new identity in Christ.

Thomas didn't see anything like that in his friends in those first days after Jesus' resurrection. He didn't see them changed. Nothing about them told him that they were living a new reality.

Then, while Thomas was with them (explaining his disappointment?), Jesus again appeared in their midst and blessed them with peace. Looking to Thomas he said, "Come, look at my wounds, touch the scars and signs of death and see that even this extreme of evil did not win. I accepted all this believing that my Father would transform everything. Now, let's continue the transformation, beginning with you — all of you."

What Jesus offered them was nothing less than what he had prayed for in John 17:21, 23: "May they be one as you and I are, I in them and them in me that the world may know that you sent me." 

The concrete sign of their new unity was that the Holy Spirit drew them into community where they overcame narrow self-concern and judgment. Forgiveness of one another functioned like allowing a wound to heal, of ceasing to pick at a scab. Forgiveness was the only medicine that would allow their whole body to heal. 

Like Jesus, everyone who had been injured would have scars — but those scars could become signs that injury was not the final word among them. 

When Jesus appeared, he bequeathed them his own mission: "As the Father has sent me, so I send you." Those disciples had seen how Jesus lived his mission – never focusing on sin, but drawing forth each person's greatest potential. That was now their call.

The invitation to believe in the Resurrection asks for a leap of faith that starts with our heart, our hands and our feet, not our intellect. If we believe in the Resurrection, in Jesus' victory over all evil, we will be liberated. 

When we proclaim, "Lord, by your cross you have set us free," we claim the freedom to love everyone as a part of ourselves, to learn the healing practice of forgiveness and the freedom that comes from the power of the Holy Spirit, who is the only one who can accomplish this in us.

When this happens, the world will be able to touch the reality of the Gospel in us and come to believe.