Window of Life
(Acts 2:42-47; 1Pet.1:3-9; Jn.20:19-31)
In today’s Gospel, Jesus’ disciples have locked themselves in the Upper Room. They’re scared of the world outside and of what might happen to them.
We all know about locked doors. We lock them when we feel vulnerable or want to hide, and also when we don’t know what to do next.
But note how Jesus enters that locked room. He doesn’t break the door down, nor does he scold them or accuse them of anything. He simply walks in and says ‘Peace be with you.’
Today, on Divine Mercy Sunday, we are all reminded of the story of St Faustina Kowalska, the humble Polish nun who met Jesus Christ in 1931.
At the time she lived in a convent in the city of Płock (pronounced ‘Pwotsk’), north of Warsaw. She worked in the bakery and kitchen, and helped the sisters who supported poor and troubled girls.
Sr Faustina was in her room when Jesus first appeared to her. He arrived quietly, dressed in white with one hand raised in a blessing and the other hand touching his heart, from which shone two bright rays – one red, one white.
Jesus asked her to paint that image of him, along with the words Jesus, I trust in You. This is the picture of Divine Mercy that has since spread all over the world.
Today, in Sr Faustina’s old convent a special window has been built into a wall near her former room. It’s a baby hatch, called a Window of Life, through which an unwanted child can be left by a desperate parent.
When the hatch closes, a bell rings inside and trained staff come quickly, giving the child lots of love, protection, and hope for a future. No questions are asked; only care is given.
This window helps us to see today’s Gospel more clearly.
The disciples locked their doors, because doors are about control and about who belongs and who doesn’t. But Jesus doesn’t break these doors down. Instead, he mercifully opens a window – creating a space inside for peace, forgiveness and new beginnings, and their lives are transformed.
For windows are about trust, vulnerability and letting the light in.
We can see this in Mark’s Gospel, where a paralysed man is brought to Jesus. The house is so crowded that every door is blocked, so his friends lower him down through the roof instead. In effect, they create a window of life.
Jesus doesn’t complain about the damage. Rather, he sees a strong faith, and through that opening mercy enters: ‘Your sins are forgiven… Rise, take up your mat, and walk,’ he says (Mark 2:3-12).
Whenever access to mercy is blocked, the Gospel finds a window.
This is how St Vincent de Paul understood charity. He knew that good intentions are never enough, and that mercy must be organised, reliable and discreet. It must also reach people where they are, especially when shame or fear make them invisible.
For Vincent, mercy was never showy; it was about creating quiet, dependable openings through which dignity and life can spread.
This is how the Window of Life baby hatch works. It’s not loud or judgmental. It simply insists that mercy must always make space for life.
Today, from Poland to India and the U.S., there are dozens of these special windows across more than twenty countries, giving hope to abandoned children.
On this Divine Mercy Sunday, Jesus is asking us: what doors have we locked in our lives, and where should we be opening a window instead?
Most of us will never build a physical Window of Life. But every Christian life is meant to become one. A window of patience for someone who is struggling. A window of welcome for someone who feels excluded. A window of mercy where judgement would be much easier.
The image of Divine Mercy itself helps us here. It’s not meant to trap God inside a frame. It’s more like a window, opening our hearts to who God really is. As the risen Christ steps forward with his wounds, his mercy flows towards us. And beneath the image are the words that say it all: Jesus, I trust in You.
That’s the posture of someone standing at an open window: vulnerable, hopeful and willing to receive mercy rather than hide behind locked doors.
In today’s Gospel, as Jesus enters that locked room, he shows his wounds, and says, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he sends his disciples out.
For having received mercy, they – and we – must now go and share it with others.
When fear locks the doors, God always opens a window – offering us peace and forgiveness, and the courage to live as people of mercy in a wounded world.