Ohana in a Sandwich

by Kelly Petersen

“Seeing is believing,” as we read last week when Thomas declared, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the mark of the nails and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” This story reminds me of the time my 5-year-old asked me to make a peanut butter sandwich cut like a gingerbread man. I crafted the most delicious little fellow, complete with a crust toupet and pretzel features.

I expected him to be devoured in seconds, but to my surprise, the sandwich remained uneaten. The moment Max laid eyes on him, he believed. No questions. No hesitation. He named him, gave him a cheese puff bubble bath, and welcomed him into the family. When I gently suggested he take a bite of the leg, Max looked at me with concern and said, “Ohana means family.” That’s when I realized my mistake: I had given my very literal, deeply imaginative son food with a face.

Eventually, with time—and a new faceless sandwich—Max forgot about his peanut butter friend. But I never forgot the lesson. It was powerful to witness how something as ordinary as a sandwich became sacred in his eyes, simply because he saw meaning in it. His emotional reaction, alongside Thomas’s longing for physical proof, reveals something universal: our deep human need for connection, for tangible symbols, and love that we can recognize.

Whether it's our daily bread or the wounds in Christ’s hands, sometimes we need to see to believe. When the visible reminders disappear, we’re left with the challenge of remembering. Out of sight, out of mind—which is precisely why I take communion. The bread awakens my creative spirit, just as the gingerbread sandwich did for Max. An ordinary piece of bread becomes a sacred story—one that roots me in mystery, memory, and meaning.

Jesus said, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” As we move from Eastertide into Pentecost, may we reflect on the holes we seek—those tangible signs that carry renewal and purpose. Where there is doubt, may we believe and see love as children do. Let us remember that faith often begins with small, symbolic acts: planting seeds, nurturing the soil, and sharing a meal. Like seeing Ohana in a sandwich, may our beliefs create peace, wonder, and meaningful connections.