A very good man has died and left a great hole in the world, and everyone is trying to cope with the loss.
I always asked Michael for advice. He tried to say he wasn’t that smart. But everybody knew that he was capable. Many, many people looked up to Michael Melkonian because he was so strong and such a very good man.
He took care of things. He took care of people. He took care of his family. He was a conscientious and caring father. He made decisions that needed to be made.
We gather together to show support for Michael’s family. To support each other. We gather to show respect for a great man who made a significant contribution to the quality of many peoples’ lives, and to the common good of the community.
And we come together in this fine old church. One of the most helpful things about being here at St. Paul’s, aside from the sheer beauty of the interior, is the physical orientation of the building. It is a simple thing, but it is important.
Back there is the dark West door. We all come in here from the darkness, and we all travel toward the East – toward the light. This main area of the church is called the nave. The word nave is from the Latin for a sailing ship.
Traditional churches like St. Paul’s are arranged so that we can experience the journey of life as a voyage that starts out in darkness and moves progressively toward the light. By God’s grace we move away from pettiness, lying, stealing, and meanness. By God’s grace we move toward kindness, generosity, and trust. In other words, toward goodness.
As we walk up the aisle the light shines in our faces and we leave the darkness behind. It is a simple thing to know that when you come into this church during the day, any day – any time, you will be greeted by the light from the East Window. It is simple and yet terribly important.
The light from the East does not depend on how good or bad we are feeling. It is just a fact. When you enter here you are welcomed by the light.
St. John wrote, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1: 5) In various translations the wording is different.
And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness apprehended it not. (ESV)
And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it (NKJV).
The darkness does not grasp the light.
The original Greek does seem to imply that the darkness is too stupid to understand the light.
This leads us to the obvious conclusion that there is no real point in surrendering to the darkness. It is a bad strategy and ultimately will lead to no good.
Even in the most difficult times. Even when it seems like the darkness has returned. Even when we are afraid that the darkness WILL overwhelm us. Even then, we can – by God’s grace – reach out, and especially in this life-giving ship, hold on to each other and continue our journey toward the light.
St. Peter, in another place, says the light shines in the darkness “until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.” (2 Pet. 1: 19)
Now, for those who ask the question, “Why did God take Michael now?”- I say, God did not take Michael Melkonian. A heart attack took Michael Melkonian, and Christ will take him in.
God made a real world for us here. It is not a phony world where it doesn’t really matter what we do, because it will all turn out fine. No, this is a real world, and our decisions and our actions matter.
We all know Max and Olivia are both miracles. In large part, they are miracles just because of all the time and effort that Michael put into taking care of them and protecting them. He worried and cared about them all the time. Michael was well aware that things don’t just work out by themselves. He was vigilant and careful. He tried to do the right thing.
This is how God often makes miracles happen. Through us. Through human beings.
When we move toward the light – when we do the right thing – we cooperate, we participate, in God’s eternal plan. Michael Melkonian gave himself heart and soul to this world, and to doing the right thing.
Today, let us honor Michael by renewing our trust in the light and recommitting ourselves to helping each other, and in doing the right thing.
Finally, [to Michael’s family] I know that life will never be the same again, but by God’s grace it will be good again. I promise.
In the assurance of eternal life given at Baptism, let us proclaim our faith in the words of the Apostles’ Creed . . .
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