I’ve always found the Sundays after Easter tricky. We have followed him through desert, through suffering, through abandonment and death, and now, incredibly, to the place of new life. He’s not gone, but suddenly, it’s different. Better, I’m sure, but different.
So all the more precious, then, are the fragments of Christ’s risen life that the Gospels show us. Mary recognises Jesus only when he calls her name. The disciples mistake him for a ghost; but it’s the walls of fear and division that fade to nothing in his presence. They eat together on the beach; but Jesus entrusts Peter to feed his sheep. The travellers on the Emmaus Road do not know him; but Jesus meets them in the scriptures and in the breaking of bread, and sets them on a different course. And, he tells us, it is better that he goes, so the Spirit can come, and ignite the life of the church.
Calling, Unity, Service, Word, Sacrament, and Spirit.
This is his resurrection life, and we can adopt it as our own. We have so many questions about this life that is to come; but, to answer them, I suppose the whole world could not contain the books that would have to be written. For now, let this be the life of the resurrection community, a community for all peoples and for all times and for all places, the church. Let this be our life.