Any of you who have had a family member die know that as well as being a time of grief, it is also a time of confusion. Everyone seems to be sure what Grandpa would have wanted or what Uncle Joe would say – even when they cannot agree. Everyone has his own idea of what should be done and how. Squabbles can break out about all kinds of things from funeral arrangements to who gets which nick nack from Grandma's parlor.

So it was with the apostles that week after Jesus died and then rose. They had heard what he told them during his life. They knew they were supposed to go out to the world with his message – but there must have been all kinds of arguments of how to do that – and when to start. In today's Gospel reading we hear about one apostle who didn't even believe that Jesus had risen.

How was all this resolved? The Bible tells us – "On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you".

All the arguing, all the squabbles ceased when Jesus arrived.

St. John was careful to mention that Jesus came even though the doors were locked because the apostles were afraid. Their doors were locked. Just as their minds had been locked against Jesus message so much of the time, so much so that at one point he looked at them and yelled – how long must I put up with you! Just as their hearts were closed against his message – when just a week before his crucifixion they were arguing over who would get the seats of honor in his throne room, or when Judas betrayed him for a few pieces of silver.

But Jesus came. He found a way in. St. John does not tell us how. Did he walk through the wall like a ghost? Did he beam in like one of the characters in Star Trek or SG1? Or did he just find an open door, or somebody who recognized his voice and opened for him when they heard him approaching? We don't know. All we know is that even though they had locked themselves in that upper room, even though they had so many times closed their minds and hearts – Jesus found a way in. And once he was in, there was peace.

Oh that didn't mean all their troubles disappeared – far from it. But it did mean that they found the calm center – the grace poured into their heart – that enabled them to be faithful in spite of troubles.

This week we have seen two deaths. One was surrounded by controversy. A defenseless woman was starved to death by order of the state. The state which protects the right of a woman to kill her unwanted unborn baby, now protects the right of a husband to kill his unwanted wife. Fights, threats, law suits, and a media circus were all part of Terri Schiavo's last hours. No one came out of that tragedy unscathed.

The other death took place in a quiet alcove in the papal apartments. John Paul the Great succumbed to the ravages of age and Parkinson's disease and passed serenely from this world as thousands stood beneath his window praying for his soul.

Perhaps John Paul, who used his own illnness and all the humiliation that had to bring with it, to teach us something about the value of the old and the infirm, and the value of suffering, used his death to teach us something too. He was allowed to pass from this world in God's good time – surrounded and cared for by those who loved him. He was not rushed into eternity. He was not considered an inconvenience, but a father.

It is far too soon to draw all the conclusions and make all the comparisons which undoubtedly could and will be made between these two deaths. We all have a lot of thinking and praying to do.

I ask you in the coming weeks to reflect on these two deaths, to thank God for John Paul and the years we were privileged to have him as our Hold Father, and to pray for his soul. I ask you to pray for the soul of Terri Schiavo, for her family which went through such pain, and for her husband who has so much for which to answer.

And I ask you to pray to God for our nation, that from these two deaths we learn the lessons that will turn us from becoming a culture of death to become a culture of life.