For those of us who like decorum and order in our prayer, private and public — and I confess membership in that assembly — we had better skip over lightly today’s reading from the Book of Revelation. It’s noisy, it has a crowd, “countless in number” of angels, living creatures and elders. They are not engaged in silent meditation. They are crying out in a loud voice, a hymn of praise to “the Lamb that was slain.” If that weren’t enough, the praises have spread to “every creature in heaven and on earth, and under the earth and in the sea, everything in the universe….” There’s no silencing this universal uproar of praise.
We worship lots of gods, wealth, youth, might, pleasure, nation, etc. But it’s clear that John the Visionary is proclaiming with exuberance that the true Lord of all that is visible and invisible is “the Lamb that was slain.” He didn’t just praise Jesus who walked among us. His praise is for Jesus, the Lamb, who was slain and rose for us. The reference to Christ as the Lamb is rich in symbolism: there is the smeared blood of the lamb that saved the Israelites as they prepared to begin their exodus from Egyptian slavery; there is the lamb in Isaiah (53:7) who suffered for sinners and Daniel (8:20-21) presents the conquering lamb. John presents a coronation ceremony of the Lamb. It’s not a quiet little ceremony in a tucked-away chapel. Rather, all angels, elders and the created universe shout out their songs of praise.
We in the northern hemisphere are enjoying Spring after an arduous winter. As we leave the church today and, if we are lucky enough to be in a place where there are some trees and flowers (Yes, even in Brooklyn, my hometown!), we could join the universal hymn of praise we heard in Revelation and acknowledge nature’s gifts; as well as the gift we have in Christ, the Lamb of God, “who takes away the sins of the world.”
Our lives may be fragmented and our minds distracted by many cares, but John, from the island of Patmos where he was in exile, offers us hope. Today a vision and a reminder are given us: the defeated and slain Lamb of God is risen from the dead and now is enthroned. To him, who was broken, we offer our wounds in the confidence that one day we too will be members of the praising multitude. But we could practice for that final festive banquet by beginning our show of praise today, this Third Sunday of Easter — even if our prayers and hymns are in more moderated tones!
I just spoke with a senior member of my Dominican province. He is in a nursing facility. I called to tell him about the death of our beloved Dominican historian Sr. Mary Nona Mc Greal, OP. My brother told me that he too has aged and has a lot of ailments — hence, the nursing facility . I have visited there, it’s a wonderful residence, but still, who wouldn’t want to be able to get up and go where we please, not be limited by age or physical ailments?
The phone conversation comes while I am reflecting on today’s gospel and Jesus telling Peter:
“Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted, but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” I am tempted, like a teenager might do, to write in the column alongside this quote, “How true!”
Don’t you think these resurrection stories are rather ordinary sounding? Today’s, like the others, lacks a background of trumpets. Instead, we get another fruitless day of fishing. Did these fishermen ever catch fish without Jesus’ help? What gets their attention is a catch of fish — finally! Peter gets excited; he gets presentable, “tucked in his garment” and jumps into the sea. But when he and the other disciples get to the shore they don’t hoist Jesus on their shoulders, shout and dance and parade him through the vicinity, like a football hero who just kicked the winning field goal.
Instead, John tells us, that the disciples didn’t dare ask Jesus, “‘Who are you?’ Because they realized it was the Lord.” Then they have breakfast served to them. Were they in a dazed state — which they frequently seem to have been? Instead of the pace of the narrative picking up, now that Jesus is risen and before them, it seems to crawl along. Maybe its because of the embarrassment and shame lingering in the hearts of the disciples.
Peter doesn’t have much to be proud of at this point, so first he has to, in the words of one commentator, be “rehabilitated.” Jesus draws Peter into an uncomfortable conversation that calls to mind his triple denial. Still, Peter doesn’t drop out of the conversation, nor does Jesus wash his hands of Peter and the rest and walk away. It seems that if we stay around, remember and confess our failures as disciples, Jesus is ready to forgive and send us out again. Peter has nothing to be puffed up about. Perhaps, in the light of our less-than-stellar performance as disciples, neither do we. Good, because Jesus calls Peter back to his servant role, “Feed my lambs… Tend my sheep.” We have been forgiven, now we ought to serve others, especially by giving them what the risen Christ has given us — forgiveness.
Now here comes the line I quoted earlier, about Peter being led where he does not want to go. The reference is probably to the martyrdom Peter will suffer in Rome. Peter will express his love for Christ by laying down his life in service to him. Recall the conversation with my aged and infirmed Dominican brother. The changing years have reversed what he used to do on his own — dress himself and go where he wanted to go. Infirmity has required he “stretch out” his hands and be led, not to where he always wants to go, but where he must: to the dining room; for his medications; to be bathed; to be put to bed; be awakened for shots, and on and on.
Well, what’s so unique about that, a lot of people get sick and we all lose some, or a lot, of our vigor as we age. Yes, but we disciples believe that Christ is risen, even though the resurrection stories seem quite ordinary, lacking flares and trumpets — because that’s not how we disciples live. We believe that Christ accompanies us each day, even through our declining years. There is may be much that will be taken from us then, but our faith can shine. Recall the witness our seniors give us in their laughter and their concerned questions to us, “How are you doing?” We may decline, we may not be able to serve as we used to, but Christ doesn’t give up on us. He still graces us at any age and in any condition to be witnesses to his life, death and resurrection.
Let’s go back to the Book of Revelation reading and even raise our voices a bit as we acclaim, “To the one who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing, and honor, glory and might forever and ever.” Raise your voices now — “Amen!”
Unlike a quart of milk or a box of cereal, our baptism reminds us we have no expiration date. God made a promise at our baptism: God swooped us up, has carried us and will not drop us in our old age. “When you are old, you will stretch out your hands and another will carry you” (Jn 21:18).
Today’s a chance to admit what we don’t like to: we are dependent. Jesus invited Peter at the beginning of the gospel, “Follow me.” As the end of the journey with Jesus drew close, Peter and the others heard this assurance, “Let not your hearts be troubled: believe in God, believe also in me” (Jn 14:1). Our future is in God’s hands and we baptized hold to the promise God has made to us, especially we older members. God has overcome death, raised Jesus from the dead and will be our constant God, offering us life this day and as we age into our future.