It has often been remarked that there was something about the Risen Christ that made even those closest to him hesitate. He was familiar, yet strange. Mary Magdalene thought at first he was a gardener; the disciples in the gospel this morning are uncertain until Peter literally takes the plunge. Those blessed with a mind choc-full of certainty will have no difficulty explaining this to their own satisfaction, but for those of us more accustomed to complexity and contradiction — we of little faith, perhaps — will find here something worth pondering. The cosy, conventional Jesus of popular imagining has taken on something of the transcendence of Ezekiel’s vision. We are confronted by the mystery of the burning bush, the flaming seraphim, the utter holiness of God. It is as though a veil has been drawn aside and, like Moses, we are permitted to enter the dazzling darkness of God himself. These Resurrection gospels challenge us as no others do. Jesus is revealed to us as much more than a prophet, much more than a holy man. Will we adore him as God or not? We have to answer one way or the other, don’t we?