Ever since the Shroud of Turin, Jesus has appeared on everything, from pizzas to toasts to chocolate bars to the smoke of the World Trade Center attacks. “Allegedly”, I used to add, because in my mind these images always owed more to the fantasy of the beholder than to reality. If you don’t like your pizza and stare at it long enough, you are bound to discover something or somebody in it.
But then I saw it for myself. Jesus appeared on my handkerchief this morning:
It can’t be coincidence because it’s the last Sunday before Christmas.