“FIRST IMPRESSIONS”

5th SUNDAY OF EASTER -C-

May 18, 2025

Acts 14: 21-27; Psalm 145; Revelation 21: 1-5; John 13: 31-33, 34-35

by Jude Siciliano, OP

 

Dear Preachers:

 

I don’t have scientific data to support this, but based on my experience, I would say that the most popular book of the New Testament among maximum-security prisoners serving life sentences is the Book of Revelation. Why might that be? Consider the situation of these inmates—and then consider the overall message of Revelation.

When your world is severely restricted and your future promises only more suffering, the Book of Revelation becomes a source of hope. Today’s passage (Revelation 21:1–5a) offers a glimpse of that hope. We are just one chapter from the book’s conclusion. The long-anticipated revelation has come to fulfillment: the enemies of the Lamb have been vanquished. Evil—represented vividly by the dragon, the beast, and the false prophet—has been thrown into the lake of fire.

Then comes a powerful image: the Holy City descending from heaven, described as a bride adorned for her husband. It represents the fulfillment of God’s promise—not just a beautiful city, but a new reality:
“Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race.”

This is not a fleeting spiritual moment. The promise continues:
“God will dwell with them and they will be his people, and God himself will always be with them as their God.” For a long-suffering people, this vision announces an end to pain:
“God will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.”

You can see why a prisoner might return again and again to this text—yearning for release from suffering and clinging to the hope it offers. What else could they hold on to?

This consoling passage is often read at funerals, and rightly so. But let’s not limit its power to only moments of sorrow or despair. If we do, we risk narrowing our vision of God, who is already here—dwelling among us. Isn’t that what today’s Gospel tells us? Christ, the risen Lord, is present among us through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Still, let’s linger a bit longer in Revelation.

Our world today is filled with suffering and loss. The news tells us of unbearable tragedies: Israel has cut off food supplies to Gaza, placing a million people at risk of starvation. Medical aid to the poorest in Africa has been slashed, leaving millions vulnerable to deadly disease. Support for Catholic charities has diminished, putting many here at risk of hunger and loss of emergency aid. And you can no doubt add your own examples—personal, national, or global—of grief, brokenness, and decline.

The author of Revelation names this pain. He speaks to those who mourn, who cry, who die. But he also proclaims a promise: “God will wipe away every tear… there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.”

As impossible as it may seem, we are invited to see the world through John’s eyes—to glimpse the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, that God is bringing into being. The Creator, who once formed the heavens and the earth, is still at work, making all things new.

It can be hard to believe this vision is unfolding now. So much remains unfinished. But God continues to nourish us with the Word made flesh—Jesus—who gave himself in love for us. This Word sustains us as we wait and hope for the fulfillment of God’s new creation.

So, is this all just “pie in the sky” for helpless people? Not at all. The vision of the new Jerusalem is not just for the next life—it begins now. It is breaking into our world even now through acts of compassion, healing, and justice. Are we not witnesses to this? Are we not participants in this transformation—by our words and our deeds?

Ours is not an empty or passive hope. We are not sitting idly, waiting for God to act. No, we are called to resist the false promises and quick fixes the world offers, and instead to embrace the vision Revelation gives us. John urges us to trust it, to let it empower us to resist evil and endure with hope.

The message of today’s passage is clear: no matter how long or difficult our struggle, evil will not triumph. The final verse sums up God’s purpose for us:
“Behold, I make all things new.”

Is that what prisoners see in these words? A divine assurance that their pain is not ignored—that they are not forgotten? God promises a new age of peace and wholeness for those who have trusted throughout their trials. This text offers hope and encouragement to all who suffer and feel forgotten. Despite the darkness, goodness will prevail.

In the 17th century, John Milton wrote the epic poem Paradise Lost, reflecting on humanity’s fall from grace—our alienation from God and the brokenness of the world. The Book of Revelation, which closes the Bible, offers the opposite message: Paradise will be regained. Our tears will be turned into joy, and mourning into laughter.
“There shall be no more death or mourning.”

Who but God could do such wonders? John portrays a God who dwells with the people—offering blessing, peace, and presence. In the Eucharist, our great prayer of thanksgiving, we celebrate this same hope: that God is with us, here and now.

Even in our darkest hours, the author of Revelation urges us to trust. God will not abandon us. The vision of the new Jerusalem is a promise of peace, intimacy with God, and life with one another. With evil vanquished, John assures us:
“There shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain.”

God’s promise is sure. God is making all things new.

 

Click here for a link to this Sunday’s readings:
https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/051825.cfm