The look said it all, like: Hey lady, don’t breathe your germs all over me! It was just a persistent tickle in my throat, but you’d think I was a plague carrier the way she tensed up, shrinking her body into a tight protective posture, tugging her coat away from any contact, and leaning towards the window. Fishing for a cough sweet only seemed to confirm the worst—plague. It wasn’t even ‘flu season. Pardon me for breathing! You take your chances riding public transit without wearing protective face masks. Tickle gone? No! Try swallowing,… Now I’m cho-oking,… Stay calm,… Take a deep breath….

Have you ever tried controlling your breath? I took singing lessons once and the teacher seemed to think we could breathe from somewhere down in our boots—gave up on that. Then there were the swimming lessons, when we had to take a lungful of air and see how far we could go face down in the water. I watched one guy do the entire length of Lord Byng pool, while I could not reach the 5-foot mark wearing flippers and paddling like crazy without panicking. Deep breathing for relaxation and meditation is more my thing—that slow, rhythmic in and out… It’s almost hypnotic as you simply focus on something as natural as breathing,.. in and out… letting the oxygen start its life-giving journey through the body. It’s something we all do—something simple we have in common with every person on this planet, friend or stranger, even friend or foe for those who think in those terms. We all breathe. We rely on the breath of life like every living creature has done since the very beginning when God breathed life into creation.

Of course, like a lot of things we don’t all breath in unison, but there are times when we collectively hold our breath out of anticipation, like in the last seconds of a cup match when fans anxiously wait for that final whistle. Maybe it’s a sign of the times that sport has replaced religion in many people’s thinking and priorities, with huge stadiums replacing great cathedrals as our main gathering places. Yet wherever the Passion of Christ is remembered and the resurrection is celebrated Christians reliving that drama can, and do experience the same heart-breaking, heart-stopping moment when Jesus breathed his last, as we did when our narrator’s last note faded in eternity on Good Friday. Then there’s the breath-taking moment when instead of an empty tomb, the mystery of new life is captured by the symbolic lighting of the new fire and we each carry a candle spreading the light of Christ. Or how about when the colour, beauty and cacophony of glorious sounds are brought back into our lives as brass and voices, bells, organ and the beating of our own hearts all swell the Alleluias that ring out at Easter?

It’s a lot to take in—that transition from life to death to new life, all in the space of a few days, a few hours. For some, its transformative power is like an instant conversion experience, but for many people it’s a more gradual process helped by the repetition and retelling of the story against the unfolding of our own lives—with our own losses of those we love, our own pain and little deaths on a daily basis when something as small as failing to be noticed by a friend on the street or fellow passenger making a fuss by shrinking away from us on a bus feels that like rejection. It is in the summation of all those moments, and survival of our ups and downs that the pattern of resurrection finally becomes part of us—picking us up, to live and laugh again. Musicians, dancers and athletes all talk aboutmuscle memory. As Christians moving through the liturgical year that revisits the sacred cycle of Christ’s birth, through his life and death and rising to life again that gradually builds the mental and emotional memory that are part of the spiritual life. The beauty of it is that each of us performs this dance with unique grace and grow in grace the more we let the transformative power of the Holy Spirit go to work in the specifics of our lives and situations.

It may be ~2000 years since the events we heard about today took place, but I can guarantee I will experience parallels in my own life between now and when we hear the same stories told again, and I can guess you will too. Take those times when we feel bad, afraid or ashamed, (as most disciples must have felt), so we retreat into the upper rooms of our imaginations, locking or blocking out the rest of the world—or wish we could. Maybe it’s in the safe company or conversation with our closest family or friends that we find a measure of comfort, but for me true peace of mind that stops the constant action replay only comes after I can name what I’m hiding from—maybe kicking myself over something, or feeling so ticked off I want to kick the cat, as we say. More often than not, once I can identify the root cause and face the fact it is going to bug me until I let it go, that is when the work of forgiveness comes into play. Sometimes forgiveness is hard work—work that folk shy away from, which is why Jesus needed to preach it so often and show us how it is done. Apparently it’s so important, after he breathed the peace of forgiveness on those who had let him down, Christ told them to pass it on, giving them, and us too, the Holy Spirit of forgiveness to help us. He said If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them. It’s true isn’t it—if someone does something that upsets us, as long as we cling to the hurt and bitterness, that sincontinues to fester and separate us, but as soon as we forgive them, the dynamics change. It’s like opening the door to let some fresh air in, helping us breathe new life into the relationship. I have found that one of the best ways to learn how to forgive ourselves or others is to build up a memory bank of all the times forgiveness worked, because like any muscle memory, over time it becomes so natural it’s automatic.

Look at Peter who isn’t specifically named in today’s Gospel—no need, because after all his heroic boasting and bravado, he had turned chicken by denying he knew Jesus three times. He must have felt dreadful, yet thanks to the gift of forgiveness and the peace of Christ he embraced new life with gusto, fearlessly preaching forgiveness himself. Talk about a turnaround—quite a transformation! Then there was Thomas—initially the only one brave enough to venture outside, so left out when the other disciples experienced Christ’s presence and peace that helped them breathe freely again. Can you imagine the disappointment at being left out of something so important? Maybe we’ve all had moments like that, and in a way we are all in the same boat as Thomas since we were not in that Upper Room when the Risen Christ appeared to the other disciples. But God knows our needs before we even ask and Christ returned again so that Thomas would not be left out. In return, it was Thomas who finally made the leap of faith recognizing God in the Risen Christ before any of the others made that connection.

He’s been called doubting Thomas, yet by working through his doubts, with Christ’s help, he became the model believer. For most people, mature faith doesn’t happen without having questions, or maybe doubts, because they open the door to deeper understanding if we’re willing to let Christ show us what it’s like to move through and beyond the pain of letting go of whatever is holding us back so we can wholeheartedly embrace new life. It’s just like breathing —we have to breathe out before we can breathe in. It’s just like forgiveness, the more we give it out, the easier it is to accept.

Peace,… said Jesus, Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I send you.Then he breathed on them the same air that we breathe right now and said: Receive the Holy Spirit.

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May the peace of Christ* which surpasses all understanding keep your hearts & minds in the knowledge and love of God,… and the blessing God the Father,… the Son and the Holy Spirit be among you and remain with you always. (Adapted from BAS p. 683, which says God here*.)