I wrote these few lines earlier today, in preparation for Masses in Kilmovee and Kilkelly. I tried to imagine Jesus writing to us, following the Ascension. I’m sure there’s so much He could say but these are the few thoughts that came to me and were shared earlier. I hope they have a place here too and maybe help us to think a little – pray a little and to be grateful.
Dear Friends,
I arrived safely and the welcome I received was second to none. My Father, no more than the father in the story I once told you, seemed to be watching out for me, even when I was still a long way off. He even got them to put the best robe on me. Unlike that story, though, there was no jealousy to be seen here – everyone seemed so happy to see me and wanted to hear all about my time with you. I was amazed how easily I could recall the details – even the little ones and there was no rush in sharing the story. Every bit of it mattered and it felt so good to be able to share it with people – with my Father especially and there was a wonderful Spirit there too. I’ll come back to that ….
I told them of Joseph, the carpenter. I called him “dad” and my Father never blinked or reacted to that. He knew well enough how much Joseph had done for my mother and I. He was such a wonderful man – is such a wonderful man. He left no stone un-turned in his care and love for us. I’m proud of him and of his hard-working hands and solid presence. Just as he shaped the wood in his shed, there is no doubt, he shaped me too. The man you met and came to know in me, was in many ways the man I came to know and respect in him. Loyalty, that was his gift and deep faith was his truest asset. He saw what another might not. My mother often said that about him.
I talked about the early days – the moving and the uncertainty, seeking welcome in places that were not our own and I couldn’t help but think of all the people that are still having to do that. I see my own journey in so many of them and rejoice in those places where they are welcomed and given a chance.
My cousin John – “The Baptist” they called him, I told them about him and how he refused to baptize me! They smiled at that – imagine had I not being baptized. It is such a gift and John felt unworthy to share it with me but, in fairness, he gave in and did the right thing on the day. My Father and the Spirit nodded in agreement – “Didn’t we split the clouds that day?”, they said. Indeed, they did! I’m thinking of children who will be baptized today – including two in this very parish – and wanting them and their families to know that the clouds will split too and there will be a joining of minds and hearts and a journey begun.
I spoke to them about the twelve and how glad I was that they said “yes” when I asked them to follow me. I don’t think they will ever fully grasp how much that meant. At its core, it meant I was not walking alone but in the company of like-minded people. I remembered, as I talked, some of the confusion the twelve felt and I thought of Judas too. I don’t remember him just for his final act but for that first “yes” and the many steps he took with us. I had a real sense of all here knowing what I meant.
Miracles! There were so many to recall and they were not all about blind people seeing, deaf people hearing or the lame finding their feet. Many of them were so subtle that only the ones involved knew – we talked about the woman in the crowd and the healing that came – not through her touching the hem of a garment that could be discarded but rather through her reaching out to and through me because she saw something deeper. I loved that miracle – that moment and the look on her face when I asked: “Who touched me?” I don’t think she fully knew what I meant by that – I meant that she had touched my heart through her recognising her chance for healing. How I wished more would recognise that opportunity and, like her that day, reach out for it. Everyone here, nodded at that memory and, no more than that day, a few tears were shed.
There was so much to tell – the small boy in the large crowd with his few loaves and fish, that supper we shared in the borrowed room and its place in all you are doing right now. Yes, I spoke about the final days and the confusion, but my Father drew my attention to the moments of kindness and faith those days contained – the centurion, Simon, Veronica, the “good” thief, Joseph of Arimathea and of course, my Mother. Yes, there was much good to be found, even in the darkest hour.
So maybe that’s enough for today. I’m where I need to be but I’m with you too. You remember the Spirit I mentioned earlier – keep your eyes and hearts open, I have a real sense that The Spirit has a message for all of you. Don’t lock the door!
Peace be with you,
Jesus.
good job !