TABLE 4,567,371,594,303
INTRODUCTION
The title of my homily is, “Table 4,567,371,594.303.”
When we go to a wedding reception we stand there outside the
dining room or somewhere there and we spot the tiny table that has the little
tent cards - with our name on it - we hope - and we pick the one up - with our
name and the number of our table on it.
It’s a relief when we spot our name on a tiny folded
card: Table 17 or 13 - and if we’re
old, we hope our table is far from the
music maker.
It’s a bummer when there is no card there for us. We go, “Uh
oh. Oh no! I sent my ‘Yes’ in to the R.S.V.P., so it should be here. We know we
checked off, “Crab cakes”. Then “Phew” our spouse or someone says, “Oh
there you are. I picked up your card for you. Here!”
WHEN WE DIE
When we die and when we wake up R.S.V.P., there we are in the vestibule of somewhere.
And we’re standing there will all kinds of people of all kinds of sizes,
shapes, colors and looks - and we don’t know anyone. And there’s the table - with
all the little cards - with the names of the recently deceased.
We stand there - hoping to see our name. We look. Someone
sneaks in underneath us. Another person comes in from our left; another from
our right. Everyone hopes their name is there.
They are looking for their card and name as well. They are muttering in
languages we don’t have any clue about - yet.
Then we spot our name. Our name. I made it. I made it. I
made it. Phew. We take the card. We look at the writing. Ours is in English.
That’s thoughtful - because most of the others aren’t - but most have numbers
on them. Ours says, “Table 4,567,371,594.303.”
We hear music coming from somewhere.
We spot someone at a big entrance door - in a robe. We wonder if that’s St. Peter. We think to ourselves:
it’s a door, with deep red fabric panels - no golden gates. Where am I? I hope
this is heaven.
We breathe in - in our Risen Body - we pinch ourselves -
we’re young again. We stop for a moment. We think, “This isn’t real.” We pinch
ourselves again. As we get to that big door, we show the possible St. Peter our
card. He saying something in some foreign language. We don’t understand
anything, but his smile and his pointing is telling us to go in and around to
the right of whatever is behind the big, big door.
We walk in sheepishly. We hear our name and a great welcome
cheering. We stand there stunned. We look around at the biggest banquet hall -
in the world - ooops we say to ourselves, “The Universe” - ooops we say,
“Heaven.”
No they didn’t play, “When the saints come marching in” but
right now I’m with their number.
We see zillions of people sitting at many, many, many
tables.
We wonder where Table 4,567,371,594.303 is.
We stand there very nervous. I much rather be on a table
with someone I know. I much rather be on a table with mom and dad - grandma -
my brother who died too early, too soon of cancer.
Now what? We stand there very nervous.
Then we see folks waving at us from here and there in the
gigantic hall. We finally see a face we know.
“Wooo!” We voice that
sound loud and clear.
We head over towards our
brother who died in 1986. He’s
running towards us.
It’s heaven. His hug - his embrace - it’s heaven.
He brings us to mom and dad and there are more hugs - more
tears - more celebration - and we’re so self centered at first - then we
realize this same thing is happening with those who were with us out in the
hallway.
Someone up front bangs a glass or a bell or something and all become silent.
And then someone from somewhere says, “Those who have just
arrived, welcome to the Supper of the Lamb.”
We say to our brother and mother and father, “Can I sit at
your table?” They say, “Relax - go to the table you’re assigned to. You’ll find
out why soon.”
So we uncling and head for Table 4,567,371,594.303.
It takes us about 20 minutes to get there - but we find it.
We know nobody at the table - and nobody at the table knows us or anybody else.
We shake hands with each person or we bow to each other.
It’s a round table - so there’s no top spot on the table.
The food starts to arrive. It’s being served by apostles,
kings, maintenance men, plumbers, and nurses.
Slowly in the passing of the food to each other we learn
each other’s languages - and we start learning fast. We can’t believe it - we
are speaking Chinese, Russian, Arabic, and Slovak words in less than an hour.
“This is heaven.”
We find out where each person on our table is from. We’re
from all over the world. We have eternity - but somewhere in the middle of all
this new reality - it hits us - I’m going to get to know everyone here - from
our Table 4,567,371,594.303 back down to Table 1.
After the meal we reconnect with our parents and our close
loved ones who have gone before us. We tell them about what had happened since
they died - and they are all ears. At times we wonder if they already know -
but they are so polite - so perfect - so listening.
We meet neighbors, classmates from grammar school whom we
wondered about what ever happened to so and so. people we worked with - people
whom we coached with - people we met on trains and planes - from time to time.
It’s heaven. I made it. I can’t believe all of this.
Then we ask a big question: do I get to meet God?
“Yes,” everyone says. The moment is coming.
As we’re waiting on line for our turn, we wonder if there is
a desk or a chair? Do I sit on God’s right or God’s left or what?
Is God a Judge? Is God all Mystery? Is this going to be
spooky? What? We don’t know. Up till this moment - all has been easy.
We finally go to meet God. There are no chairs - no right -
no left.
It’s all awe - mystery - it’s wordless.
OOOOOOOOO
This is a homily for the 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time. I read the readings. I said a prayer. I read several commetaries on today's readings and this is the idea that came up. Amen.
