the 8th day

If you don’t have a permanent stiff neck like me, you can most probably still look up towards the dome. So please look up. It is the color of the sky, it is the sky when evening starts. The color and imagery draws inspiration from the ancient fathers of the church who said that every time we celebrate the liturgy “we stand in the evening of time.” Why evening? Why do the ancients refer to the celebration of the liturgy as a standing in evening of time. Evening of time because the day’s work is done, the work is finished and it is now evening. Evening because the morning has not yet come, evening because we await the morning. So when we celebrate the liturgy we stand in the evening of time - we stand at the evening of time when the work of Christ during the day has been completed and we stand in the evening of time as we await its fulfilment in the coming new day. That is why Matthew would preface our gospel today with the word six days later - six days later is the seventh day - Sunday. Among ancient Christians the seventh day is called the 8th day - a day outside the week, a day after the week is completed and a day before the new week commences, before the new day comes. And the new day is there when you look up at the back - the new day when everything will find fulfilment, when the Lord will come again in glory. If you study the ceiling of the cathedral from one end to the other end you will find in symbols and imagery salvation history. At the moment according to the ancient fathers we are standing at the center of the cathedral, beneath the dome, the evening of time. Christ work has been completed, the 8th day, but, but we still await the fulfilment and perfection when he brings us to glory. If you remember the last homily I gave, we are now in the yes but not yet - yes salvation is complete but not yet.


The transfiguration today is a reminder for us that perfection and fulfilment and the full realization of God’s plan will not be fully realized in this world and at this time. In the transfiguration we are given a glimpse of what is to come, a glimpse of the glory that is to come in the new day, so that we can remain strong and steadfast in our struggle, so that we can persevere in our effort, so that we will not be without hope. To expect perfection in this life and to expect perfection in this world is like Peter wanting to build three tents so that he can stay forever in the mountain of glory. But no, after the glimpse, after the inspiration we have to come down the mountain and walk toward the Jerusalem of our suffering.
To expect a perfect government, to expect a perfect church, to find a perfect priest, to make for oneself a perfect family, to insist on a perfect husband, a perfect wife, to require a perfect father or mother - these can only leave us frustrated and angry. The perfect society and the perfect person we all want to be can only be had when the Lord comes again in glory. At this time we can only hope for it, we can only dream about it and we can only work and toil and struggle to attain it. But to expect it now can only leave us frustrated and angry.
St. Paul has a lot of phrases to describe where we are right now - he would say creation is groaning. He would describe our existence and our experiences as the birth pangs, the pain of being in labor. Even within us, Paul said, we moan as we await the redemption of our bodies awaiting the time when we will be freed finally from slavery and share in the glory of God.
We have this seminarian whose name croped up every time we have a meeting. In a short meeting like ours if your name crops up, it is either because you are very good or very bad. He was very bad. What I mean is, he did so many bad things and it seems he cannot keep himself away from trouble. So many warnings, so many I am sorry, so many tears from his mother, also so many tears from his eyes but still he finds himself yet again in trouble. Now as he is about to graduate . . . still another one. And yet when I look at him I cannot pay attention to him because I am reminded of myself. Probably not the kind of trouble that he makes, but that same cycle of weakness, hard-headedness, the same enslaving attitudes that put us in trouble in our relationship with others, with ourselves and with God. Did my prayers, did my bible-reading, did my daily mass make me perfect, did these make me faultless - probably it made me a little better but not perfect. Thank God, he gave us the sacrament of confession!
Our existence is a process and we have to learn to wait. We will indeed work hard to make our country great, and free it from the culture of corruption. We will indeed work hard to cleanse the church, to rid it of sin, reform it and transform it. We will indeed work hard to free ourselves from the things that corrupt us and enslave us into sinful addictions. We will work hard to reach these things but we will have to learn to wait, and in waiting we will have to learn to accept its pain, its labor pains, the struggle to rid ourselves of sin.
In this second Sunday of Lent we are made to learn to wait because perfection is not the work of man but the work of God. It is God who will finally rid us of all that is evil in us and around us. It is God who will finally root out completely our vices, and everything that enslave us. It is God who will finally make our dreams come true. It is God who will bring us to and grant us perfection.
The LORD said to Abram in our first reading: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great.” It is a promise, a promise made to Abraham in the future tense. As it is right now, we stand beneath the dome of this cathedral, we stand in the evening of time. And from this place we may look forward from time to time so that we shall not lose hope, so that we shall not forget that the glory promised us will be ours when the Lord comes in glory, when the glory and promise of Easter shall finally be ours.