There are all sorts of questions I could ask you about today’s readings. For instance, I could ask: Who is this “Stephen” we heard about in the first reading and why was he stoned to death? Or who was this “Saul” that guarded the cloaks of those doing the stoning?
Many of you, I’m sure, know that Stephen was the first deacon chosen by the twelve apostles. Shortly after being chosen, he gave a major sermon about Moses and how Jesus had fulfilled the Law of Moses and now stood at the right hand of God. The Jews loyal to the Law called his words blasphemy and covered their ears so they would not hear him. Others stoned him to death. And so deacon Stephen became the first martyr for Christ and perhaps, a role model for our own deacon Steve who, in a few days, is celebrating the twentieth anniversary of his own ordination.
Again, most of you know that Saul was the name of Saint Paul before he became a follower of the risen Christ and a major leader among the first Christians. The “Acts of the Apostles,” from which our First Reading was taken, emphasizes this strange conflict of someone who is a witness to the persecutions of the first Christians becoming, later on, a champion of Jesus the Christ.
With the Second Reading from the Book of Revelation, there are several more questions possible. For instance: why in his appearance to John does Jesus refer to himself as the “Alpha and the Omega?” For the answer you might recall that in the Greek alphabet, alpha is, of course, the first letter and omega is the last. So, when Jesus says he is the “alpha and the omega,” he means he is the beginning and the end of everything.
There are other questions I could ask about today’s readings. How about this one? What is the last word found in the Christian scriptures? We heard this word in today’s Second Reading. When Jesus said: “Yes, I am coming soon!” The narrator responds with the final words: “Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!” These words are important whether you hear them in English or in the original Aramaic Jesus spoke. And, yes, many of you have heard those words: “Come, Lord Jesus” in Aramaic. In this language the phrase is “… “marana tha.” It’s the name we use here at Christ the Good shepherd for our RCIA program: Maranatha, the process followed by our candidates and catechumens who enter our community at the Easter vigil.
OK, I admit I’ve spent a lot of time today on questions, what may seem to be a variety of questions. But, in reality, they all relate to one theme I would like to consider for the next few minutes. The theme of “transitions.”
This is a time of transitions. Not just one transition but many transitions. For the young, it may be the transition from elementary school to middle school or from middle school to high school. This month and next are the months for graduations from high school and from college. The questions that come with these transitions are more relevant, perhaps, than the ones I asked today. All of those questions about what comes next? What happens now? All those scary questions about how do I make transitions from a secure past to an unknown future?
For the not so young, there are transitions that may involve moving a household from one part of town to another, from one city to another. Whether you are preparing to leave Christ the Good Shepherd or are about to join us, there are all those uncertain questions about the new place and how will it compare with the one you loved so much?
For others, there are transitions that involve relationships. This is the season for marriages, for young brides and grooms. Unfortunately, it may also be the season for separations and divorces. It is always the season for changes in relationships, of finding a new lover, a new beloved, of losing old lovers and those we loved.
This month the diocese of Galveston-Houston is honoring our older members. Since I’m in that group I’m not going to say it’s the time to honor the elderly or the aged, but merely those who are eligible to be members of the AARP. We, too, have our times for transitions and the difficulties associated with them. Transitions of retirement from jobs but not from life. Yet there are also those transitions from the life we know to the life for which we hope for ourselves and for those we love. This Memorial Day weekend, in particular, we think about – and pray for – those who have passed through the gateway to a new life.
Yes, there are many transitions for us to contemplate. And as a reminder of this season of transitions, we have illuminated our oil lamp, here on our altar, a symbol to call to mind all of the transitions we must weather; a symbol to light our way through potential storms and darkness.
But in this season of transitions we have more than a mere symbol of a burning oil lamp to guide us. We also have the reality of what we heard Jesus say in our third reading for this Sunday, this Sunday between Ascension and Pentecost, this transition between the Jesus who comforted his friends in the past and the Holy Spirit he sends to comfort us as our companion on the way ahead.
In our gospel reading we heard amazing words. We heard that Jesus prays for us: for you and for me. On that night before his suffering and death, before his own transition, Jesus prayed for us and spoke other amazing words. He assured us that God the Father loves us, you and me, just as much as God the Father loves Jesus, himself. Jesus said:
“I do not pray for my disciples alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their word. — that they may be one, as we are one — I living in them, you living in me — that their unity may be complete. So shall the world know that you sent me, and that you loved them as you loved me.”
We began today with the story of Stephen, the first deacon and the first martyr and his sermon on the transition from the Law of Moses to the fulfilment of that law in Jesus the Christ. We were reminded of Saul and his own transition to Saint Paul. We recalled that Jesus revealed that he is both the beginning and the end; that he is with God at the creation and that he awaits us when we return to the creator; that everything in between is a transition; that we come from God the Father and return to God the Father.
And last of all: we are reminded, that, in these “between times,” in these days of transition, God loves each one of us as a child of God; that in these days of waiting for complete unity, our final oneness, our prayer continues to be: “Maranatha … Come, Lord Jesus, Come.”
Seventh Sunday of Easter; May 24, 1998 (Memorial Day)
Acts 7:55-60; Rev 22:12-14, 16-17,20; Jn 17:20-26