I was a full-grown adult before I realized that Pentecost is known as “the birthday of the Church,” and it only resonated with me because someone showed up to a church function with cake and candles.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus prays for me. And for you. And for all the people who woke up this morning and headed to Mass because, while it’s true that God is everywhere, the Body and Blood of Jesus is only found in one place.

I think of the walls of heavenly Jerusalem, so high and so sturdy, guarded so scrupulously by God’s strongest angels. These walls are not barriers. They are shields. They are arms, encircling us, gathering us in.

I once wrote an article about several women residents of a local nursing home. In researching the piece, I discovered that they had grown up in the same neighborhood as my grandmother, and that one of the women was, in fact, my grandmother’s dearest childhood friend.

I get a little crazy when it comes to my kids’ safety. We’ve probably had a few too many conversations that could be entitled “What to Do If Mommy Loses You At the State Fair” or “Don’t Trust People Just Because They Smile At You.”

It never fails to amuse me that the disciples in today’s Gospel don’t recognize Jesus until he asks them to do something that makes absolutely no logical sense.

It does sound unbelievable, the story of the Resurrection. But lots of things are unbelievable. That doesn’t mean they’re not true.

Everybody’s trying to find God. They may not admit it. They may not even know it. But the search defines them, and it defines us.