Seventh Sunday of Easter, May 8th, 2016
“Do you suppose that Stephen cared much who was collecting coats when he was murdered? Or when he lat-er found out that the story of his death in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 7,5-60) would also provide the intro-duction to the now-famous St. Paul? We know the full story—now. But Stephen could not have known, and perhaps could not have cared less. Stephen, like all of us, is caught in only a single moment of time. Stephen could not have known that the coat-check man at his murder was soon to become famous. Single moments of time have a way of doing that; single moments often hide as much as they reveal. But every human being is caught in the present—even our brother Jesus; he is human, just like us in all things save sin. And there is a sobering revelation in his story from today's gospel too (John 17,20-26). Jesus prayed for unity– and we really do not see that his prayer was being answered. The next time we are tempted to despair when we think our prayers are not being answered, let us think of Jesus in today's gospel. Jesus faces the same fate as we do — because of time. This section of John's gospel is known as the "High Priestly Prayer." It is perhaps the bluntest and most emotional petition Jesus addresses to his Father. Some might say this prayer is all he really ever asked for him-self: that his followers might be one, that they might be a single communion, that they might be a loving com-munity. Jesus prayed that they might become open and unafraid of differences; that they might not just tolerate a rich tapestry of diversity, but that they embrace fearlessly the entire spectrum of the rainbow. In short Jesus prayed that they might be an honest reflection of reality: all are God's children. I repeat: Jesus prayed that we might become open and unafraid of differences; that we might not just tolerate a rich tapestry of diversity, but that we embrace fearlessly the entire spectrum of the rainbow. In short Jesus prayed that we might be an honest reflection of reality: all are God's children. Jesus prays so earnestly, so solemnly, and all we have 2000 years later is this: this fractured Church, this tormented world! And you think that your prayers don't get answered! Stephen, the first martyr for the sake of Jesus, his first witness has to wait in time like us all. And so does Jesus: he has to wait in time like us all. Clearly the prayer of Jesus has not yet been answered. And it is now our challenge as his living body to make it true. But only time will tell! I am reminded of one of the wise sayings attributed to the great Athenian statesman and general, Pericles (5th century before Christ): "Wait for that wisest of all counselors, Time. " Because we never really know, do we? Let this day's liturgy be a reminder that prayer does not solve all problems. It has not done so for centuries. Prayer alone will not make us a more accepting and open church; prayer alone will not reconfigure an Archdio-cese like Berlin; prayer alone will not stop the destruction and inhumanity of war. It never has; it probably nev-er will! So why bother? If prayer does not change God's mind, change God's plans, change God's reign, what's the point? Maybe you remember me preaching already about prayer, I had quoted Søren Kierkegaard then (1813-1855). Søren Kierkegaard said best what I just tried to say: "Prayer does not change God, but it changes the one who prays." It is imperative that we pray in order to change ourselves. God's eyes and limbs are now ours. And countless people, like Stephen, continue to be murdered — literally and figuratively — while too many of us collect coats and hats at the door – like Paul in our Acts of the Apostles passage. Time has not yet disclosed which of us might be the next St. Paul. But our church and our world still wait, in time — they wait for us. Yes, my appeal would be at the end of this sermon: Pray hard for unity and peace. And then: “Just do it!”, go ahead. Everything finally does now depend on us—even the outcome of Jesus' own prayer. So, let our final prayer be like the prayer at the end of the Book of Revelation. For what else could we pos-sibly want? Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus, Come! Be with us—in us—again. Today and Always, in this time and in all time. Amen!
Fr. Wolfgang Felber SJ