A Homily for the 7th Sunday of Easter (C-2007)
[Pieter Paul Rubens. The Martyrdom of St. Stephen. Musée des Beaux-Arts, Valenciennes.]
One of the books that had a significant impact on me, particularly when I was studying psychology, is the book by Dr. Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning. Viktor Frankl was a protege of Sigmund Freud. Then World War II broke out, and like most of the other Viennese Jews at the time, Frankl found himself rounded up by the Nazis and shipped to a concentration camp. The first half of Man’s Search for Meaning, is Frankl’s account of life in the concentration camp – it really is something that I highly recommend that you read.
At first Frankl was intrigued by the apparent randomness of inmate survival. He started to ask why some prisoners just seemed to shrivel up and die, while others, under the same cruel and inhuman conditions, somehow seemed to survive. Naturally, at first he thought it had to do with the prisoner’s physical fitness and health, but he soon noticed that often the most physically fit prisoners would die quickly under the horrible conditions of the camp, while those who seem weak, elderly, and/or unaccustomed to hard labor would survive the longest. Frankl decided to occupy his mind with a psychological analysis of life in the concentration camp in order to try to unravel this mystery. Based on his observations and professional reflections Frankl became convinced that the key to survival was meaning. In other words, those prisoners who found a reason to survive survived, and those who did not find a reason to survive, did not survive. I still remember his account of an older man who had been a watchmaker, and how he designed in his head, and on any scraps of paper he could find, a most beautiful clock that he wanted to make to replace the one in his home village’s clock tower which was destroyed in the war. For Frankl himself, his reason to survive was to rewrite the book, based on years of psychological research, that he had written and the Nazis destroyed before his eyes. All of us, deep down, strive to find meaning in our lives, and that meaning, that reason to survive, is what keeps us going.
As we come to the end of the Easter season, the Mass readings that the Church gives us directs our gaze upward. In our first reading today, from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear about the martyrdom of St. Stephen, and we hear that he “looked up intently to heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” St. John, in concluding the Book of Revelation, the last book of the Bible, invites us to look up at Christ who is the morning star and pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” And in today’s Gospel reading, as he finishes the Last Supper, Jesus begins his prayer by “lifting his eyes to heaven.”
As we look up to heaven, what do we see?
“We see an embrace, a clasp of deepest friendship, a union of hearts and minds greater than the most satisfying earthly relationship could ever be” (“Homily Packs: Seventh Sunday of Easter (C)” found at www.epriests.com, a service of Regnum Christi, 2007). As St. Stephen breathes his dying breath, seeing Christ in his glory, whispers, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” and like his Divine master forgives those who are unjustly killing him. In the Book of Revelation, “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’” Jesus, in the Gospel, prays that we will all share his glory, “so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us.”
The message that God has for us as we come to the end of the Easter Season is the message of death – of Christian death. The Church is reminding us that for a faithful Christian, one who actively lives their Faith in words and deeds, death is not the end but the beginning. We are called to keep in mind that our real home, our ultimate destiny is heaven, not life on earth. All of our prayers really should be, “Come, Lord Jesus,” let the fullness of your reign come now.
This is why as faithful Christians we should never be afraid to think about death. In fact, the tendency to avoid thinking about death, to try to avoid facing that death is an unavoidable reality, is unchristian. This does not mean that we should become obsessed about death, because the gift of life, which God has given us should also be celebrated.
How can we find a balance? How can we learn to keep looking up, so that we do not lose sight of our ultimate goal, our destiny, while not becoming morbid?
It is enough to keep doing the small, normal things that the Church has always taught us to do. It is enough to visit the cemetery and put flowers on the graves of our relatives and to pray for them. This would be particularly fitting given that next weekend our country celebrates Memorial Day. Now that the Mass Intention books are open for next year, we can have a Mass said for our deceased loved ones. It is enough to follow the rhythm of the Church’s liturgy, which reminds us gently but firmly that this brief life on earth is not all there is, that our true home is heaven. It is enough to care for the sick, elderly, and dying instead of ignoring them.
If we do these things now, then later, when we find our own death knocking at the door, we will not be afraid to look up and pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” We will have no regrets, only smiles, both for the beauty we have left behind, and for the Beauty still in store.
“Today, as Christ come to us under the mysterious veil of Holy Communion, let’s thank him for revealing the meaning of death, and like St. Stephen let’s look up and pray, ‘Come, Lord Jesus!’” (“Homily Packs: Seventh Sunday of Easter (C)” found at www.epriests.com, a service of Regnum Christi, 2007).
