AIDS Memorial Eucharist

A HOMILY PREACHED BY

THE REVEREND ROBERT A. PICKEN
PRIEST-IN-CHARGE, CHURCH OF THE ASCENSION, GREENPOINT, BROOKLYN
IN ST. MARTIN'S CHAPEL IN THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. JOHN THE DIVINE, NEW YORK
ON THE OCCASION OF THE MONTHLY AIDS MEMORIAL EUCHARIST
ON SATURDAY, MAY 26, 2007 AT 12:10PM

Lections:
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 130
1 John 3:1-2
John 11:21-27

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“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

I imagine Martha, a bit disheveled from her grief, her hair messed up, clothes a bit tattered and askew. She is running to our Lord, running from the house, from her family and friends. She meets Jesus, and pounding on His chest and she begins yelling, shrieking even, at Him. She is angry with Him and yet, she is seeking, I imagine, His comfort, too.

I imagine Jesus calmly, but firmly, grabbing her arms to stop the onslaught of her fists on His chest. Looking her in the eyes, He says, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha, being a believer in the resurrection on the last day, says, “I know that,” while thinking, “But, where were you?! He died. You could have stopped it.”

Without defense of His actions or seeming inaction, Jesus then says, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” He asks her if that is what she believes. She says, yes.

Now, our Gospel selection ends there – with the reassurance of the Resurrection. However, the story at the home of Martha and Mary goes on. Jesus goes into the house and encounters Mary, who says the same thing: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They spoke for a moment and then Jesus wept.

This noon-time, in this majestic cathedral, in God’s house, we gather to memorialize those who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. We gather to remember men and women, old and young, gay and straight, white and black, sister or brother, son or daughter, friend or lover – our sisters and brothers in Christ. We gather to mourn, to give thanks to God for their lives, to pray for those still living with the disease, to comfort those who are left fatherless, motherless, childless, companion-less… and even to pound our fists on Jesus’ chest. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!”

And, like He did for Martha and Mary, Jesus does for us. He grabs our pounding fists, looks us in the eyes and says, “your brother will rise again.” And, then, He weeps with us.

Jesus’ response to Martha and Mary was immediately about the Resurrection. What better words of comfort are there? He spoke of eternal life -- not a resuscitation like what follows in this chapter of John, but “seeing him as he is,” sharing with life through Christ.

Jesus says to us this noon-time, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Our Easter season ends today as it began 50 days ago: “in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection.”

This is our faith. Faith based in a tomb empty of a body, but filled with hope. Hope that as “children of God…we will be like Him;” we, too, will share in the joys of that first Easter morning.

Jesus holds us and comforts us and says, “death has been swallowed up forever.” We will share in the joys of the banquet prepared from the beginning of time, a banquet “for all peoples, a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines.”

Today, we gather around this Altar, around the Lord’s Table, and get a foretaste of that banquet, enough to whet our appetite. At this Altar, the Lord’s Table, we are united to Christ, one another and those whom we love, but who now share in the eternal feast. A place is prepared for us at that Table, too. This is our faith. Alleluia. Amen.