Easter 3 It was Palm Sunday, and a family’s six‑year‑old son had to stay home from church because of a bad throat. When the rest of the family returned carrying palm branches, he asked what they were for. His mother explained, “People held them over Jesus’ head as he walked by.” “Wouldn’t you know it,” the boy fumed. “The one Sunday I don’t go to church, and Jesus turns up!” It’s a fun story but today we meet a very different moment when Jesus does turn up, but for a long time he isn’t recognised at all. The account we heard of Jesus meeting two of his followers on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13–35) is full of questions: Why didn’t they see him? Why didn’t they know it was him? Why were their eyes “kept from recognising him”? But if we focus only on those questions, we risk missing the deeper invitation of the passage, that is the invitation to examine our own ability to see, recognise, and walk with the Risen Lord Jesus. Why these two follo...
Our gospel reading (John 20:19-31) this morning begins on the first evening of Easter. It’s still the same day the women found the tomb empty. It’s still the same day Mary Magdalene came running back breathless, saying she had seen the Lord. It’s still the same day the two disciples on the road to Emmaus had their hearts set on fire as Jesus walked beside them. And yet, despite all of that, the disciples are gathered in a room with the doors bolted shut. They are naturally frightened and confused, probably unsure what to believe. They’ve heard rumours of resurrection, but they haven’t yet met the risen Jesus. We remember that these are the same disciples who had walked with Jesus for three years. They had seen miracles. They had heard his teaching. They had promised loyalty. But now, on this first Easter evening, they are hiding. They are powerless. They are unsure what comes next. All except Thomas. Thomas isn’t there. The others are locked away, but Thomas is out somewhere. We ...