This is the time of year for graduations. How many of you have suffered through a commencement address during the past couple of weeks or look forward to sitting through one in the next few days? Most commencement speakers talk about new beginnings for, after all, that’s what graduation is all about: new beginnings, leaving the protection of an institution and stepping out into what is called the “cruel world”. Many of these graduation speakers remind us of the fears and doubts we all have as we begin this new life.
Today is Trinity Sunday, the feast day when we recall that our God is one God in three Persons. The readings today, however, seem to fit into this time of celebrating new beginnings, a time that has its fears and doubts about the future. Our gospel reading today begins by setting the scene for us. We recall the last moments the disciples were to be with Jesus. He had summoned them to a mountain side in Galilee, a place where he had spent many happy hours with them. Where he had told them how much they were loved by Abba. Perhaps, they were, nevertheless, filled with fear and doubts about what would happen next. What would become of them, once their Lord and Master, their Teacher and Friend had left them? They were about to hear a commencement address. Would it be like the commencement address which Moses gave to the Israelites long ago?
Moses had gathered the people together, the ones who had been with him on the journey to the land promised to them by God. There on that mountain, he reminded them of everything Yahweh had done for them. How the Lord God had spoken to them and had led them with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. And now, as they were about to enter the promised land, how the Lord God wanted them to follow the commandments he had given them. And if they followed his statutes, they would be his children forever. Surely those Israelites were filled with fear and doubts about taking their first steps into the new land. Perhaps, some also recognized Moses would no longer be with them. What would become of them? Would God really continue to be with them?
Now, let’s return to those eleven disciples there on the mountain side with Jesus. Perhaps, they recalled those days of Moses and of God’s promise to be with his people always. But now, here on the mountain in Galilee, what would happen? How would he remain with them forever? They had their doubts. And some of those with doubts fell down in homage before Jesus. Perhaps, this action, this humbling, would change Jesus’ mind. Maybe, he would stay with them a while longer.
But this Lord and Master did not want homage. Had he not told them that they were no longer his servants. Now he called them “friends.” In your mind’s eye, can you see him gently lifting up Peter and John, Andrew and James, and the others? Can you see him put his arms around them and hear him deliver his commencement address to them: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name ‘of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’ Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you. And know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”
Jesus in his graduation address did not spend time on nostalgia. He did not talk about all they had already accomplished. Instead, he spoke of the future. He told them what he wanted them to do. And through them, perhaps he also tells us what he wants us to do. Just what did he say to his friends? What does he say to us?
To his disciples, he said: “Go.” do not stand here on this mountain. Do not remain wedded to the past, go forth from here. And to us, he says the same thing: “Go.” Do not remain where you are in your life, in your doubts and fears. Go forth to the new things to which I call you. And what are these new things to which you are called?
To his disciples, he said: “Make disciples of all the nations.” He told his friends to go forth and make new friends, new followers. And who were to be these new disciples? People from all nations. Not just other Jews but everyone they met. And what does he say to us: Go out to everyone you meet. Not just those who have been your friends in the past. Not just those with whom you feel comfortable. Not just those whom you’ve trusted in the past. Rather, go out to those who are difficult to know. To the poor and to the rich. To those who speak a different tongue; those who have a different skin.
And what are you to do when you meet these new disciples, these new friends? To his disciples, he said: “baptize them.” To some that may seem very limited. Was he asking his followers merely to pour water on the heads of those they met and automatically make them his followers? I don’t think so.
For a moment we need to recall just what it means to be baptized. Here on this Trinity Sunday, when we recall how we have been baptized in the “name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” we need to remember what baptism demands of us. Our baptism, we are told, makes us “priest, prophet, and king.” Just what does this mean? What is it to be a “priest”, a “prophet”, a “king”?
A priest is a person who is truly aware of the presence of God. Who feels the presence of the divine. Someone who is truly holy, not in some super-pious way, but one who knows God is present in everything and everyone. This is what our baptism calls us to be: a person who treats everyone with the understanding that God is present in everyone they meet.
And who is a prophet? A prophet is one who speaks out for God, who speaks out for truth and justice no matter what the consequences might be. A prophet is one who takes risks on behalf of God. So yes, through our baptism, each one of us is called to be a risk-taker on behalf of God.
And what about a king? How am I called to be a king? The problem is that, in today’s world, we see very few kings as role models. But recall, for a moment, just what a storybook king was suppose to be. A king is not merely a person who leads others. A king, or a queen, is not a ruler so much as being a protector. Royalty was called upon to protect the weak, to help the poor, to come to the defense of those in harm’s way. Over the years, real-life kings and queens seem to have forgotten this. Nevertheless, this is what our own baptism calls us to do: to protect the weak, to help the poor.
This then, is what Jesus asked of his followers, his friends: to go forth, to make new disciples, new friends of all they met, and to be a priest, prophet and king to them. And he said two other things in his commencement address: he said to them: “teach others to carry out everything I have commanded you.” He did not say: “teach only what the people want to hear.” He, also, did not say: “teach what you think I said; it’s ok to interpret my words the way you want.” No, he told his disciples, and he reminds us, we must know everything he taught, how it all fits together, not picking and choosing what sounds comfortable, but teaching everything.
And finally he told his disciples: “and know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.” What does that really mean? His disciples saw him leave, never to return to their sight. How could he still be with them? Maybe St Paul’s words from his letter to the Romans can give us a clue. Paul reminds us how each one of us is now entitled to cry out “Abba,” how each one of us is a child of God.
What is it to be a child of God? A child, a true child, is one who does not fear. A true child knows no matter what goes wrong, mommy or daddy will fix it. Reflect for a moment on the child who hurts a knee and goes running to mommy or daddy. The child who is held tightly on a lap and told: “it’s OK, mommy will kiss it and make it better.” We all know the bruise is still there. It still may need a bandage to stop the bleeding. Yet, in some way, in some mysterious way, the kiss does make it better. The child goes running off, cured of the hurt.
Parents sometimes wonder: when will the magic end? When will I no longer be able to cure my child with a kiss. The answer is: it will never end. It is still possible to cure a hurt with a kiss, with a hug, because the real cure is not the kiss or the hug; rather, it is the love that is there. Sometimes as adults, as big children, we have our own hurts, our own fears, our own doubts. And that too, is the time when we can run to Abba, to daddy. The bruise may still remain, the event that led us to go to Abba can still be there, unchanged. Yet, in some way, the hurt is gone.
And that is what Jesus tells us today. I may seem to be gone from you. The doubts may remain with you. The pain may be there with you. Yet, somehow, in some way, the deeper hurt will not be there. In some way, I will still be with you, my Father and your Father will still be here with you, our love will remain with you. No matter what happens, no matter that I seem to leave you alone on your mountain: “know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”
Trinity Sunday; May 29, 1988 (Memorial Day Weekend)
Deut 4:32-34, 39-40; Rom 8:14-17; Mt 28:16-20