It was a privilege to cook some sausages recently. Yep,..a little gang of us gathered outside a supermarket and cooked some sausages. It was a rip-snorter of a day even if the weather wasn’t exactly tropical.

One of us cut the onions, another made sure the sauce bottle squirted, another was in charge of the cash, while I simply turned over the sausages until they went some very interesting colours. Thanks to the lack of my culinary skills some of them went a little darker than perhaps I might have liked.

Then there was a little catchphrase. Not “Hi my name’s David. I’ll be your Masterchef for the day.” Rather it went “Would you like onions,… sauce … tomato or BBQ…?? Thanks for that, have a great day.”

We made more cash than what I thought we would have and that was nice. But that was not the most important thing. We cooked a lot of sausages and people ate them and everything and that was marvellous. But that was not the most important thing either. We were well supported by the supermarket and by the community…  and by each other . Ah, …now we’re getting close to what was really the most important thing.

The most important thing was a relational thing. The encounters with people I knew and the ones where I just got to do my little mantra of ‘Sauce, onions and Thank you’. That was by far the most enjoyable and the most essential part.

Welcome back … welcome home…A reflection for Easter 7

Have you ever wondered what the homes were like in Jesus’ time?

We are often told that people went to each others’ home but we are not told about the corner spa, the wall paper or the front fence.

For example

Jesus heals Peter’s Mother in law at Peter’s house.

Or perhaps a little more on the up market side of town.

Matthews house when Jesus goes to the dinner party.

Did it in fact have 3 bedrooms, flushing loo, extensive manicured garden, swimming pool and room for a pony?

And there was the upper room of a house where the Eucharist was given to us.

I’m beginning this inspection of real estate because today’s gospel is all about where you live. In fact if you had to reduce today’s gospel today down to just a couple of pertinent words on the self cleaning oven in the shiny newly renovated Masterchef kitchen you would probably be left with two words

Indwelling and unity.

When you read today’s gospel carefully you begin to understand an awesome, terrifying and boggling truth.

That the closeness and the love that Jesus has and enjoys with his Father is the very same closeness and love that you and I are called to have and to enjoy with God.

Furthermore,  it is the very same closeness and love we are called to have with our brothers and sisters. Now when it happens it is marvellous and exhilarating.

But… when we fail to have that unity, or we fail to show it to the world, then we let our brothers and sisters down, we let God down,

and most painfully of all we let ourselves down

For John nothing was more important than this unity, this indwelling business. He is writing against the backdrop of the internal divisions within the Church and he is writing about the persecution on the church from without.

So you and I, must live the same unity that Jesus and his Father have.

That sets the bar dizzyingly high and there have been times when we have blundered, fizzled and fallen over well before we even got to the bar. When this has happened our community is quite right to call us out.

A long time ago we might well have thought of those who happened to grow up in another denomination as pesky Presbyterians or those revelling Roman catholics.

I wonder might happen if we began to think of them as our separated brothers and sisters… or if we are very courageous, thought of ourselves as the separated ones. Wouldn’t that turn things on their head and what would it call us to do?

The work of reconciliation begins with us and it does not begin by trying to sort out our theological niceties and academic intricacies. Rather it begins by building relationships, getting to know each other and discovering with joy that there are things we can easily agree on. Then we begin the very important and vital work to discover how to support and encourage each other along the road.

Jesus prays today’s gospel reading just before he is arrested and taken away. He is about to break free from the constraints of time and space as we know them and he is about to embrace eternity and heaven.

When we know that unity with God, with our brothers and sisters and within ourselves, then we are truly indwelling with each other and God. Then we too break free from time, space, sin and disappointment. When we accomplish this very special type of unity  and indwelling, we too will have already begun to embrace eternity and every part of us will be infused and bursting with divinity.

Jesus put it this way.

Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am.

So where are you? So where do you live? A street number, an avenue, a town, an RMB number. A house with four walls, loo, shower, kitchen and room for a pony?

Where do you live? Where is your true home?

The one you don’t ever have to leave. The one where you are most comfortable. The one where you can kick off your shoes, reach for a beverage and the remote.

Where is the place where you are most authentically yourself? The person you have always been and the person you are called to be.

The holiest and loveliest people are those who are relaxed and comfy in themselves. They already know they are at home with God. There is nothing to prove, or fight for, or get grumpy about. They are home and they are just them.

So where do you live? Where do you ‘indwell’?

Indwelling is a relational thing. It is living in relationship. It is not and can not, be confined to any one place, any one time, any one person. Indwelling is for all places and all time, for there is no place and no time where God is not.

We are so easily distracted, that it just took us a little while to catch up and catch on to this simple but profound and lovely truth.

We make our home in Him, because He has already made his home in us.

So we say to Him and we say to the person in the mirror.

Oh.. it’s you!

Welcome back… welcome home.

Elections… they’re a piece of cake

One of the bonza things about living in Australia is that we have a choice come election time. There are political parties in various colours ( a bit like the Wiggles someone cheekily suggested) with different policies, different points of view and we are free to choose. Sometimes we whinge about our lot, but compared to some other nations we really do have it pretty jolly good. We vote people in and we vote people out. Sometimes they are voted out by their peers before we get a chance. It’s all a bit of hurdy gurdy but we do get to have a say and leading up to the election, people in high vis vests do seem to listen and travel a lot.

This celebration of choice happens again on Saturday May 21st. By  the time you get through the line of folk who smile and give you bits of paper, then get your name crossed off and mark your ballot paper, you will probably need a bit of sustenance to take home and enjoy. That’s where our Food and Produce stall can help you out. It all happens from 9am  to noon at our Parish Hall where all are very welcome on polling day.

There will be a smorgasbord of options to choose from. Chocolate is bound to be there, sponges and maybe the odd cup cake which is pretty nifty along with plants to grow and flourish.

It’s also a great way to rub shoulders with folk, swap stories and pick up a bargain or two.

Thanks to the bakers, and the folk at the polling places whose work is largely hidden but always appreciated. Elections… they’re a piece of cake.

Today the Easter Jesus is preparing his disciples for his imminent departure. He is also promising to send them the Holy Spirit who will be with them forever. So He is saying a farewell.  What He says and the way He says it, are important for us on at least two levels.

First, His ascension and the ensuing Pentecost are articles of our faith. Its what we believe. It is part of our story and part of who we are.

But Jesus farewell discourse has a salutary lesson for us.
All of us in our life time, will say many  ‘Goodbyes’.

Some are long lasting and seem permanent. Some are fleeting and only temporary.

For example…’I’m just ducking down the shops for a bottle of red ned and a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

Our Lord always chose His words carefully and that must be true of us also. The words we use to say our farewells and the way we say them matters. It matters to us and it matters very much to the listener.

So how does the Master do it?

He begins by leaving behind some pretty clear instructions.

“If you love me, keep my commandments”.

By saying this Jesus shifts the focus from himself and his departure, to the disciples and the future. He gives them plenty to go on with and plenty to think about.

“And my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

Here is the reassurance of The Master that the sense of intimacy, closeness and friendship that they have enjoyed will not be diminished, but will in fact be enhanced and even more potent into the future. Dread and fear are transformed into anticipation and hope. The loving will take on a whole new dimension and joy. What has gone before is the flyleaf to the book to come. Because of the unsinkable relationships that have been forged in the adventures of bread and wine and healing and denial and dispute and life, death and resurrection and parties; the  chapters that are about to unfold, what is to follow, can only be more exhilarating, exciting and loving than what has gone before.

The relationship does not end with Good Friday or the ascension. The love is amplified exponentially because The Fathers love is also poured out upon them. The Father and Jesus will make their home in each and every one of those funny old disciples just as surely as he makes his home in each and every one of us.

Now, the choice of the word ‘home’ is quite deliberate. Home in this sense is the permanent place of dwelling and enjoyment. It is not a physical, postal address or even a post code. It is that place deep within us that not even death can destroy. It is where joy, peace, reconciliation, and forgiveness live together in perfect harmony and love. This is our true home and it is His home as well.

Something else to think about.

That unique, precious something that is forged between true friends and true lovers can never be demolished. The adventures and hijinks might cease and the relationship enter a new wobbly undulating terrain, but the even the dark river of bitter death if navigated correctly and patiently, can enhance, sweeten and strengthen everything that was and is and will be.

But there is more that Jesus says in his Farewell.

 ‘I have said these things to you while I am still with you. ²⁶ But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.

It is not until Jesus has completed this Easter stage of his ministry and ascended, that the Holy Spirit can be sent to the apostles and begin His work. So far from being orphaned and abandoned,  the disciples have a superfluity of divinity. It will be more than they can cope with, more than they can ever need, desire or hope for.

So the art of saying a healthy Farewell is not just about looking back and being so very grateful. It is not just about giving those left behind something to get on with. Some work to do. It is also about looking forward into the future and reassuring those left behind that the loving presence that they have been enjoying will blossom into something far more mysterious and compelling and enjoyable than they can ever imagine.

And the new chapter that the Master encourages his disciples to embrace, is exactly the same one that he asks us to sign up for every day and every moment of our lives.

But…how do you conclude your Farewell? How do you sum it all up, sign it off and leave it tidy.

Perhaps this will help.

⁸ You heard me say to you, “I am going away, and I am coming to you.” If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I.
Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

“I John”.

A reflection for Easter 5

You will have probably noticed that our 2nd lesson is from the book of Revelation. This tricky book is all about how things will pan out at the end of time and God will come in triumph and sort out our sorry mess. It’s written in a language that is dripping with symbolism. In fact it is so ‘out there’ that it nearly didn’t make it into our bible and it took a couple of centuries of robust theological discussion to just scrape in.

So here are some bits that I do understand and then I will tell you a true story.

Bit 1.

“And the sea was no more.”

For John’s readers and listeners the sea is a place of chaos, fear and evil. Think of the disciples on the boat while Jesus is snoring, oblivious to their plight. Think of the storm where Jesus comes walking on the sea and invites Peter to do the same.

The Sea is a place to be feared. It is unpredictable and you go out to sea at your own peril and possibly, probably, your own death.

So when John writes ‘the sea was no more’ what he is really saying is that in the new world at the end of time… chaos, fear and death are no more. All these nasty things have been conquered and obliterated in the triumph of the resurrection.

Thus, (Bit 2)

A new heaven and a new earth are established because the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Our new digs are free from the inevitable wearing out, decay and muck that goes on all around us.

And in this new way of life…

“Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.”

In the new heaven and the new earth no more death, pain, tears or mourning. How come? How will this be? The clue lies in this verse

Bit 3

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;”

This will be accomplished because all the yucky stuff cannot be in the same place as God like oil and water, darkness and light. When you are enveloped and subsumed by such an all encompassing love, everything else is banished.

God will live with us and we will live with Him. The reason the cack stuff will be gone is because we will be in the very presence of the Living Risen Christ.

Bit 4

 ‘And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’

We believe in a God who takes what is broken, pours his grace out upon it, and transforms it. We believe in a God who looks at his creation who has mucked it up and he sends his Son to die on a cross so that his very creation who is living in death can be made new and live a new life. We believe in a God who was crucified, was dead, and was buried. But after three days, he rose out of the tomb. The same body that was dead and buried was given new life, and this restored and renewed body still had the scars as proof of the cross.

You see, Our God doesn’t destroy things and replace them with new things. Our God takes things that are dead and transforms them into vibrant, living things. He takes people that have absolutely no hope, He embraces them passionately, and rewrites their story for them. He takes the broken vessels and breathes new life into them, making them irreplaceable instruments for work of the kingdom. And there is a tricky, subtle, but very important distinction here.

Our God doesn’t make all new things… He makes all things new.

Our God doesn’t make all new things… He makes all things new.

And so to the story.

Once upon a time, long ago and far away, I conducted the funeral of a young man called John. The circumstances of John’s death were terrible and traumatic. I don’t remember what I said in my homily, but I do remember the reading I chose for John’s funeral.

I John…

saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

‘See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;

he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.’

‘See, I am making all things new.. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.

He that overcomes shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son.

In praise of the one who sets the table

Some of you will recall with affection and esteem the Reverend Marjorie Keeble. Marjorie had a marvellous ministry in this parish and for much of it she soldiered on here by herself.

The good news is that Reverend Marjorie is coming back for a visit on Sunday May 15th and would be delighted to meet as many of you as possible. She will be in attendance at a service at Christchurch Hamilton at 10:30am. She is then kicking on for our regular cuppa after mass in the hall. Everyone is welcome and Reverend Marjorie being the gregarious, extrovert would enjoy chatting with you.

Reverend Marjorie is a deacon which is not the most common word we use to describe those that wear funny plastic collars, so a word or two of explanation would be in order.

Outwardly at the Eucharist, a deacon introduces the confession, says the line ‘Let us proclaim the mystery of faith’, proclaims the dismissal, reads the gospel and may with the Bishops license, preach.

But deeper than that, the most effective way to describe the ministry of a Deacon is ‘The one who sets the table’. They get the altar ready for the celebration of the Eucharist and the symbolism is very potent. It is their quiet, behind the scenes work that makes the whole show tick. It is the attitude of service and helpfulness which should be palpable with a deacon. They understand that it is not about them. Anything to oil the cogs in the kingdom of God is done effectively and smoothly without drawing attention to themselves. Reverend Marjorie accomplished all this and much more in her time in this parish. She looks forward to seeing you.

Our airport moments. A reflection for Good Shepherd Sunday

The 4th Sunday of Easter always has the theme of The Good Shepherd.

So what I need for today is a good story about shepherding. Fortuitously Bishop Gary, our chief shepherd, kindly gave us an excellent one on Holy Monday at the renewal of priestly vows and the blessing of holy oils.

So if you think this is a helpful story then you must write and tell Bishop Gary that the cheeky Fr. David pinched his story and it was very helpful.

If you think it's a terrible story then you must tell me and challenge me to please come up with something original.

Bishop Gary’s story begins in a crowded Sydney airport. There are huge numbers of people queuing, lugging around suitcases and gradually getting grumpier and even more grumpier. Their blood pressure is rising quickly in direct proportion to their patience which is running down. There are lots of officious people with signs and high vis colourful vests, trying to make the whole thing flow smoothly. Tired and harangued, they too like everyone else, just want to be somewhere else. In fact anywhere else, but in the sterile, antiseptic environment of the airport with a lot of sweaty, cranky people.

There are a paucity of seats but eventually Bishop Gary finds himself next to a frazzled mum with three small children. Two are screaming at each other, while mum screams at them. Fun times for the whole family. The  other child is calmly reading Winnie the Pooh out loud, completely unruffled by the blithering chaos that is reigning all around him.

Bishop Gary commends the young reader on his abilities.

‘You know that was one of my favourite books when I was your age and you read it really well. That was great reading.’

By now the other two are almost hysterical and Mum is looking longingly at the beverages in the club bar. Bishop Gary is wondering if one of the those nice big burly people in a hi vis vest marked ‘Security’ might be needed.

Finally, after what seems like 67 years, 10 months, 2 weeks, 5 days and 16 hours there is a muffled, distorted call for their flight over the PA. Upon hearing the announcement the mother takes the other two squabbling children, one in each hand and almost drags them along rushing towards the promised gate where escape and peace hopefully await.

As you know better than I, the preacher always preaches first and foremost for themselves; and only when the preacher has got their stuff together, can they begin to offer something to the listeners. So when Bishop Gary told that story on Holy Monday he was preaching for himself, to himself, and then to us priesty people.

Today I offer this story first and foremost for myself and then hopefully for you.

It is a helpful, potent story because it contrasts two styles of shepherding. The Mum who has lost all patience and the will to live, will drag her charges along with her, come what may. Perhaps it may have been better to tend her own needs first and then the complex and challenging needs of her offspring. If she was less tired, fraught and beleaguered, she may well have Shepherded better.

Then there was Bishop Gary who had the space and distance to offer encouragement and commendation to other child. There is a very real and pertinent lesson for me in all of this and it’s pretty blitheringly obvious.

The good news is that shepherding is not just a priesty thing. It is for everyone. It is every baptised person’s joyful vocation to cajole and nudge and encourage and support and commend and jolly each other along with helpful words and an easy to follow example that will get us all over the finish line and onto the waiting plane that takes us up, up and away.

Shepherding is not easy. We all fail, get frazzled and not know which way to turn. It is far too easy to get sucked into the energy of the here and now which distracts us as to why we are truly here; like the airport we are only temporary. When your antsy, the long term view is harder to see.

One other thing that Bishop Gary did not draw out of his story but it is something I have thought about.

It would be terrifyingly easy to think… Well if I was that mum I would have that scrap sorted out in 30 seconds flat. What was she thinking letting it go on so long?

If I was the manager of the Sydney airport logistics team, of course I could have had the whole thing sorted out in a couple of hours and you could apply the same sort of reasoning at all sorts of levels, to all sorts of organisations. If I was the head priest guy in the Anglican Church of Australia, I could have the whole Church of God sorted out quick smart.

Every day, and in every encounter we must make a conscious choice about what sort of Shepherd we are going to be. Sometimes it is not easy to make the right choice.

We will make the right choices and be good shepherds when we understand how much we need THE Good shepherd to shepherd us, especially in the airport moments of our lives.

153 red - fin a reflection for Easter 3

Those of you who were very good and came to the Quiet day at Port Fairy earlier in the year now get your reward. You can now have the rest of the day off as I am using what I said then as the gist of today…This  fishing trip story is overflowing with resurrection and new life. The huge number of one hundred and fifty-three fish says it all. The significance of the number has been tossed frivolously around for centuries and has not managed to land anywhere successfully. A little more hidden, is the simple but profound meal of bread and fish on the shore. It is delectably barbecued in a way that would make a celebrity master chef blush with envy and the food inspector reach for their trusty clip board and red pen.

‘Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, ‘Children, you have no fish, have you?’

Jesus knows our empty boat and our emptiness long before we have had to admit the dreadful and humbling truth that without him we have caught nothing. We have nothing and we are nothing. Unless and until we can own up to our poverty and malnourishment and unless and until we look to him on the shore, then we cannot hope to catch fish.

Something else to notice.

‘They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; The significance of this toiling away unproductively in the middle of night with no results should not be lost on us. Some of the finest ministry I have ever had the privilege to discover has been hidden from me. Is it not possible, is it not probable, that we do some of our finest and most brilliant work when all seems dark around us?

In the story of the miraculous catch there is a bit missing in the narrative. Peter realises who it is on the shore. He puts on his clothes, jumps into the water and goes ahead of the disciples to meet Jesus. The other disciples are left to lug in the huge draught of red fin and perch. So what words are exchanged between Peter and Jesus when it is just the two of them on the shore? We are missing a bit of the story here. What if Jesus said? “Good golly gosh Peter, you look a bit wet.” Or   “Hows your mother in law?”

Or…. What if the exchange is that bit we have at the end of the gospel where Jesus asks Peter three times ‘Do you love me’.

Or…  what if nothing was said and they spent a few precious moments just the two of them, looking into each other’s eyes. Perhaps there were no words recorded for us because there were none and that would be more than OK. Sometimes, when we least expect it, it's just us and him.There is another interesting quirk that we often skimp over. Watch closely.

“When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.”

Did you notice that Jesus doesn’t actually need the fish? The BBQ already has fish on it. Yet he asks for some from the disciples. Now what’s all that about? Here’s my guess.That while God is God and is all powerful and can do whatever he likes, He wants to take the little we offer and use it for his glory even if it’s just a little morsel for the BBQ. More than that, He desires it, and he craves us, our company and our offerings. “Come and have breakfast” Come and eat with me. Come and enjoy me. Let me see and enjoy you. And in turn I will nourish you, so that tomorrow we can go and do it all again.

The last little bit for today. The disciples move from not knowing who it is on the shore, to knowing that it is the Lord. By the end of the story everyone knows… it is the Lord!

How many times have I not known who it is in the distance or even up close and personal? Or maybe I do know and I am shy, or reluctant, or ashamed of my nakedness. What if like Peter, the Master sees me as I really am? Naked, warts and wrinkly bits, and yet still beckons and calls and wants to have breakfast with me? Perhaps he knows in the deepest and most profound way that  I am just a funny old fisherman who doesn’t think that he has caught anything much, but the reality is something quite different. The net is already bursting. It is not broken and there is a feast to be celebrated. Already the Master waits on a distant shore in gleeful resurrected glory and all we have to do is emerge out of the darkness of our grave into the morn, bring some red-fin, and enjoy.

The Wonder of Working bees.

Recently we had two working bees and they were on the same day and everything. Some of us went to pack up the Book fair, until next year… and some of us went and polished shiny stuff in the Church ready for Easter. Both were important, both were exciting and both accomplished rather a lot.

But it is not just the physical activity of a working bee that it is important. It is not just in the doing, but there is a certain sense of satisfaction in looking back and ‘seeing where you’ve been’. The books are all tidied away, the brass is shiny and a bit of exercise is very good for you.

But look a little deeper, friends. There is certain delicious chemistry that occurs when folk work together on a common project. A cohesive collegiality is formed. It happens invisibly, surreptitiously and at no particular distinguishable moment in time. But by the end of the project, yes dear reader, something has happened, and we are all changed for the better.

This marvellous process happens because of the working together. It happens in and through the conversations. It even happens in the silence when you think that nothing is happening. But actually it is in the silence that everything is happening.

At the end of both of these working bees we were different people. New friendships had been formed and other friendships had matured and been strengthened. They had become all the more richer and deeper… more flavoursome.

In the packed up space and in the shiny brass we looked at the image in the candlestick and we saw ourselves. We too had become shiny and fresh again. Such is the wonder of working bees.

I have always loved the story of Thomas. How he had slipped out to get the groceries down at the market while the other disciples got to see the Risen Jesus. You know, the spices, herbs, veggies, fish and figs oh.. no roast lamb as it was still too expensive. No cheese either, as the monger was still waiting on a delivery from the neighbouring town of Cana. How the person in front of him  in the 12 times or less aisle, clearly had more than 12 items in their trolley. Is it any wonder that Thomas was in a grumpy mood when he got home, gaves the secret door knock only to have this wild tale spun to him by his mates that the Master had appeared while he was gone.

Of course Thomas is going to say snootily

“Well Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” He might also have questioned what they had been smoking but there is no theological evidence to back up this precarious theological fantasy.

We, like Thomas, have questions and we have doubts and we have worries and the world might well seem to be going irreversibly awry. There are some who this year will be displaced and can never be the same again.

So the reason I like dear old Thomas is because it is precisely against a very dark backdrop, against the blackest background that our Lord comes to Thomas personally  and says those exciting but simple words that we say at every Eucharist

“Peace be with you.”

And yes there are times when it doesn’t seem very peaceful. That there is disharmony and discord all around us, that there is rambunctiousness deep within us, in that special place where there really needs to be peace. We discover to our shame that we are wonky and grumpy. That we are not at peace with God, we are not at peace with our neighbour and surprise surprise, we are not at peace with ourselves.

That’s why I love Thomas. Because he is all of those things and more. He speaks to me so very clearly and closely. I align myself so easily, so quickly to him and he with me, that I could easily be the guy in the upper room weighed down with the weeks groceries and flustered by my fraught excursion, worries and disappointments. Still sad within, that such a lovely guy could have been stomped on by the Roman government in such a brutal and heartless way.

Yes it is easy, so very easy to be Thomas; to doubt and question when the answer isn’t directly in front of us.

We have questions, so many questions, we have doubts and worries because like Thomas we have been so busy scurrying about doing what we thought was important that we have missed the Master who was waiting for us all the time and He was always right before our eyes.

How many times have I failed to see him who was broken in the broken bread? How many times have I failed to see him who wept over Lazarus, when there were tears of another right before me or even my own tears?

How many times have I failed to see his forgiveness when I have been relentlessly forgiven?

He has always been there. He always was. He always will be. The answer is right before our eyes.

And it is beautiful that the post-Easter scriptures give us these narratives too. That we, thousands of years later, might see ourselves in another disciple, who even days after Jesus died had trouble believing and keeping the faith. It isn’t a weakness to doubt like Thomas. It’s not wrong or a sin. It is perfectly understandable and healthy.

The trick is to move on and say …where do I go from here? How can I transform my doubts and blunderings into something quite beautiful and lovely.

The questions are not. Where the hec have you been Jesus? Why have you not shown yourself to me? Where were you when the sky fell down upon me and I was so very flummoxed and flattened ?

The question becomes: “Where do I see and feel the love of God? How can I love as Jesus loved?

It is our vocation, yours and mine, to be the presence of the Risen Christ in our own lives, in our homes, in our parish, in our community.

And it must start from that deepest place within us. That place must be centred and grounded in the sure and concrete knowledge that Christ …is… risen.

We must hear Him speak to us as He spoke to the disciples. ‘Peace be with you’ must ring in our hearts, our ears and it must resonate in our lives.

I have always loved Thomas for he is me and I and him. We’re not told if Thomas accepted Jesus’s offer. Putting my finger in the palm is not altogether necessary, but it is crucial that I reach out my pierced hand to those who are also pierced and that is pretty much everyone who hears or reads these words.

The answer is right before our eyes. It always was. It always will be. Peace be with you.