Mass readings for the 5th Sunday of Easter:
Acts 14.21b-27 Psalm 145.8-13 Revelation 21.1-5a John 13.1, 31-35
This Sunday we have celebrations of First Communion with the children of our parish. I hope that we, as St. Paul did, will be opening the door of faith for them, and inviting them to pass through to a life oriented toward ultimate things, that passing through as they would a city gate, they set out from childhood onto the road to true adulthood – that real maturity of faith which will sustain them unto eternal life.
That journey will be by way of a hard road of sacrifice; and that a great part of that sacrifice will be refusing the enticements of this world, which are very tempting, so as to choose the eternal good.
In that, they will find themselves asked to swear allegiance to forces other than those of Christ; and if hesitating, bullied into it; to salute flags that contradict the sign of our faith, the cross; the powers of this world will demand of their parents that they forsake being formed in Christ for being groomed for the low purposes of this world; and even as they get older, they may themselves choose such grooming as they are encouraged and applauded in the ruination of themselves; they may through neglect of their faith forget who they are as embodied spiritual beings made in the image and likeness of God and instead celebrate their carnal selves.
And if surrendered to these things that are other than Christ as children, they will be living sacrifices in the worst sense – living lives in which they die to God and live to this passing world whereas this Christian faith is about dying to the world and living to God eternally.
We who are adults in the faith know that we are continually challenged to reaffirm our commitment to those things that endure: authentic love, absolute truth even as so many today turn away from them, usually in ignorance that this is what the faith is about. Our faith is not about communion. It’s not about the sacraments, but about what those sacraments are in aid of; what the solidarity had through communion with each other in Christ is meant to accomplish – they give us the spiritual resources and the strength of soulful conviction to put away childish things, and step through the door that leads out from the protective domestic walls of the world of childhood into the universe where we are to fulfil Christ’s mandate, his new commandment: “that you love one another as I have loved you.”
The gospel reading today draws from the episode of the last supper as related to us by St. John. Jesus is gathered with his inner circle of disciples, the twelve, who after that famous meal will leave the safety and security of that room; a room to which they will later retreat in fear as Jesus is publicly executed.
They had their “first communion” in a sense, although we don’t know if they understood that to be the case. Did they understand that the Eucharist was being instituted? That this perpetual memorial and blessed sacrament of heavenly food specifically consecrated for our good use was going to be a necessary part of their lives of faith? Will the children today comprehend this about the host they receive? Do we all here appreciate it as we ought to?
I am not making an accusation. I think I, as priest offering the sacrifice, am equally called to answer that question as a necessary inquiry for the sake of my vocation, the integrity of my soul. Do I stake everything upon this sacrament? And do I understand that my salvation relies upon faithfulness in the face of the world’s anger at my obstinate loyalty to Jesus, a man it regards as long-dead and yet a menace to its designs even in his supposed death.
I spoke of allegiances to flags, to identifying oneself with other causes, that the Christian must be careful of these things; no flag may claim our souls, no nation has any right to our bodies. To resist that is precisely what we prepare for every time we receive our Lord in word and sacrament, even as we recognize that for the sake of our community, and that includes our nation, we may need to make the ultimate sacrifice, but as a witness to faith in Christ. There are, as our patron saint Augustine argued, “just wars” that will see us enlist with our countrymen.
Some of you may be aware of the arrest of Cardinal Joseph Zen by the Chinese Communist government.
If we have been attentive over recent years to the rise of Communist China, we know that the party, and the president, Xi Jinping (Chee-Jingping) wield tremendous power; and yet, this 90-year-old retired archbishop continues to be the focus of official harassment, arbitrary arrest and detainment. Why? Because he will not salute the red flag, he will not bend the knee to the state-approved church; he will not sacrifice the dignity, equality or God-given rights of others for the sake of the peace and quiet we all hope to enjoy if ever we live to be 90. Here is a hero of the faith, who lives a life of ardent prayer and humble work for the people of China; and really, for all people.
You may be aware of protests in the states at Catholic churches in recent days, disrupting of mass, of prayer, vile and vulgar demonstrations pointedly designed to disgust those who value life; and value life not for its utility, but for its inherent worth. These are just common everyday folks like you and I who are being subjected to insult and in some cases injury, having their beloved places of worship defaced, vandalized, having their children subjected to obscenity and mockery; and yet responding in prayer, in concern and in love for those who hate them. Here are unnamed heroes of faith, heroic in their restraint in the face of provocation, heroic in their steadfast affirmation of life even as the media mischaracterizes our Catholic faith, even misrepresents the actual issue at hand.
Last week I spoke of the difficulty of hearing Christ in the world, of how hard it is to see him reflected in those in authority, of having any confidence that what the powerful tell us is for our good actually aligns with the “good” that is objectively and eternally so. That when I spoke to the confirmandi at their retreat, the problem of defining words was raised, and the knowing what such things as “love” and “good” are pose a problem; but that in looking upon the mystery of the cross, the terror of the crucifixion, the answers lies there if you’ve the fortitude to continue in your study of it, and the constancy to be fed by the victim we see hanging there. It’s from this that we will know how to love each other, and then understand that it is this that we look up to as we would a flag, the cross is our standard that goes before us just as once the pillars of flame and of cloud led the children of Israel out of slavery, across the wilderness, to the Promised Land.
Marching through the desert under this sign will mean that everyone will know that we are Christ’s disciples, and like the Hebrews we will be then a target of other tribes; and so we must walk together under this sign, and do so in love for one another, and in love for those who join on us on our way. Then we can walk that road, and despite our fears, not turn back, but keep to the way, and arrive at the holy city, the New Jerusalem.
Amen.