05/02/2026
I AM
There are some passages of Scripture that become so closely tied to one moment in our lives that it’s hard to hear them any other way. For many of us, today’s Gospel is one of those. We’ve often heard it at funerals, spoken through tears, offered as comfort when someone we love has gone home to God. And because of that, we can start to think of it as a “funeral reading,” something meant only for the hardest days.
But this Gospel was first spoken to people who were very much alive— confused, anxious, and afraid of losing the One they loved. Jesus wasn’t standing at a graveside. He was sitting at a table with friends who didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. And into that uncertainty, he speaks words that are not about death at all, but about presence, promise, and purpose for the journey we’re still on.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” He doesn’t say this because nothing troubling will ever happen. He says it because whatever comes, he will be there before us.
“I am going to prepare a place for you.” Not someday, far off in the clouds, but now— preparing a way, preparing a future, preparing a path through whatever we face.
“And I will come back and take you to myself.” Not only at the hour of our death, but again and again throughout our lives, gathering us when we’re scattered, steadying us when we’re lost, drawing us back when fear or grief or confusion pulls us away.
This is not a Gospel about endings. It is a Gospel about accompaniment.
Thomas, bless him, says what all of us feel at one time or another: “Lord, we don’t know where you’re going. How can we know the way?” It’s the question of every person who has ever felt unsure, overwhelmed, or afraid of taking the next step. Where are you, God!
And Jesus doesn’t hand Thomas, the disciples or us, a map. He doesn’t give him or us a list of instructions. He gives himself.
“I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
Not I will show you the way. Not I will tell you the truth. Not I will give you life.
But I AM.
Which means that wherever we are - in joy, in sorrow, in confusion, in hope - we are already on the way, because we are already with him. So very often we think the path is something we have to figure out on our own. It isn’t. The path is a Person, it is Jesus, who walks with us.
This is why this Gospel, even though we often hear it at funerals, may be the most hopeful reading we have for our everyday living. It tells us that Jesus is not only waiting for us at the end of our days. He is ahead of us in every moment we have yet to face. He is preparing a place not only in eternity, but in the very next step we take. He is inviting us to trust Him.
And this Gospel tells us something else - something we need just as much: the people we love are held in that same promise. The Lord who goes before us goes before them. The Lord who walks beside us walks beside them. The Lord who prepares a place for us prepares a place for them.
This is not a Gospel of separation. It is a Gospel of belonging. It is a warm embrace and a whisper of affirmation as we journey through life.
So when we hear these words today, let’s hear them not as a farewell, but as an invitation. An invitation to trust that Christ is already in the places we fear. Already in the decisions we haven’t made yet. Already in the tomorrows we can’t see. Already in the hearts of the people we love and worry about. Already in the future of our families, our parish, our world.
He goes before us. He walks with us. He gathers us back to himself, again and again.
And because of that, we can live in hope - not a vague optimism, but the steady, quiet confidence that we are never alone on the road.
In God’s Unending Love,
�Gwen Coté,�Pastoral Associate
