On That Day

Homily for Friday of the Sixth Week in Easter

Today I want to focus on the very last statement from the Gospel passage that is proclaimed today. It begins with the familiar phrase, “on that day…” When that phrase is used in the Hebrew Scriptures, it is recognized as the day on which God will intervene finally and decisively in human history to judge and to save. It belongs to the language of Old Testament eschatology or teaching about the end time.

John uses this phrase differently. In the Fourth Gospel, “that day” refers to a quality of existence in which disciples, after Jesus’s death, resurrection, and the descent of the Paraclete, enter with Jesus into the eternal “now” of God. This relationship with God is a joy even deeper than that of answered prayer, for it is communion with the one who said, “I came from the Father and have come into the world; again, I am leaving the world and I’m going to the Father.”

The promise of seeing Jesus again is open-ended in John because it is fulfilled again and again in countless ways through every generation. African-American slaves in the United States knew that Jesus had gone to the Father, and they knew that he was with them in their troubles. They appropriated the message of John by singing, “Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world… I’m going to live with God.” Others find fulfillment even in this world when, buoyed by the Holy Spirit in their hearts, they discover that Jesus is with them and “eternity is now.”

The analogy of the woman in labor teaches a lesson on present pain and long-term joy. These words from Jesus help us to live hopefully before our desire is fulfilled and can bring joy and peace even when gratification is deferred. Jesus teaches that there can be no long-term joy until we have gone through the present pain. Just now, grief is very much present in our society because of the horrors of gun violence. The words of Jesus remind us that the promise is that we will experience eternity where there is no pain and where there are no tears. Until we sit at the heavenly banquet, we bring our pain and suffering to the Eucharist where we experience a foretaste of what is to come.