Archbishop Lyke began his installation homily with the famous words from Star Trek…

Space…the final frontier…these are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise – its continuing mission to explore strange new worlds, new life, and new civilizations…to boldly go where no one has gone before.

My sisters and brother in the Lord, As you may recognize, these words open every episode of what has become one of the most successful entertainment ventures of our time, Star Trek. Since the sixties, when the original series played for three successive seasons, this concept has survived in five different movies and another TV series, Star Trek, the New Generation. I seriously doubt whether any of the creators of the show could have envisioned back in 1967 that their idea would take such a firm hold on the minds of so many people, for so many years.

The fascination of Star Trek grows out of the obsession that all humans share for the unknown, for the mysterious, for the future. It grows out of the distinct admiration we all feel for those who explore, who go beyond the known confines of human knowledge, who challenge the impenetrable and seek illumination in the in the midst of obscurity.

In a similar way, 2000 years ago, the citizens of Judea heard of a man, some said a prophet, who dressed in the rough garments of an outcast, feeding on locusts and honey, and who was announcing in the wilderness a bold and decisive message, “Repent, for the day of the Lord is at hand.” (Matthew 3:2) This was John, who appeared on the horizon of Israel, the dawning light of the Messiah at his back, with the promise of a new world, a new life, a place where no one had gone before. John was the captain of a new enterprise, borne up on the wings of angels, driven by the power of a hitherto unknown glory, about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting but hungry world.

John’s destiny was to be great and difficult, nurtured in solitude, set apart from the ordinary designs of human life, and ennobled by the force of divine will. From the time of his wondrous birth to a woman past the time for child-bearing, he bore the mark of prophetic destiny. The angel Gabriel tied the tongue of his father, because Zachary had doubted the angelic utterance. But when he agreed to name the child John, his tongue was loosed, and he was filled with the praise of God. This name, John, is not without significance, for its means “the one who announces the graciousness of God.” (Oxford English Dictionary) The people who witnessed the events of his birth were equally affected and filled with wonder. “What will this child be?”, they asked. (Luke 1:66)

What, indeed, was this child to be? John was to be the last in a line of great prophets, men sent by God to proclaim His favor and disfavor, and age after age, to remind a recalcitrant people of the promised Redeemer. John was the last of these, for the fullness of time had come to the earth, and salvation was at hand. The eminent scholar Romano Guardini comments:

The womb of the present swells; the hour is ripe. (Galatians 4:4) John’s whole life is a growing toward this fulfillment; this is the hour to which he points. Of all the prophets to proclaim the Messiah, he is the one privileged to say: “Behold, the lamb of God,” see, over there- that is he! (The Lord, p. 20, Gateway Edition)

The day finally came – the day of the Lord at last arrived – when busy about his work of preparation, busy baptizing with water, busy anticipating the fiery baptism of the Holy Spirit - - John looked up. There, coming forth from the people, emerging from the seekers of faith, he beheld the Lord, who came to ask for baptism.

“Why do you come seeking me,” John understandably asks. “It is I who should be baptized by you.” The Lord insists on taking his place within human law. “Allow it now,” Christ answers, “…thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness. (Matthew 3:14-15) Now, John knew his word was done. When the priests and Levites questioned him, he replied:

In the midst of you there has stood one whom you do not know. He it is who is to come after me, the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to loose. (John 1:26-27)

My sisters and brothers, there are so many facets of John’s life applicable to our own, that any enumeration would necessitate more time and more inspiration than can be summoned here. However, two things strike me as being deeply important for all of us as we explore the meaning of John the Baptist for the Church today, and for my ministry as your new archbishop.

First, all of us, in some manner are touched by the will of God, and know the conversion of heart and soul to His purpose that so invigorated the mission of John the Baptizer. We all come from some wilderness in which we realize the exclusivity of our relationship with God. Like John, we accept the powerful thrust of God which sets us on a road replete with human contact and relationships. On that road, if we are true to the faith of our Church, we too will proclaim the coming of Christ, the Son of God. Out of the wilderness of human failing, we will work to make straight the paths of our sinful hearts, and fill in the valleys of human injustice. Like John, who spoke forcefully to the moral degradation of his time, not hesitating to confront princes and potentates, we place our lives on the line for the sake of Christ’s commandments, the commandments to love God and to love one another, and we follow the journey of these commandments wherever they may lead.

John’s life did not end in glorious circumstances, like the lives of so many martyrs who were to follow. Indeed, he was cast into a dark dungeon, incarcerated by the petty jealousy of a despicable tyrant and his covetous wife, who could neither bear the truth of John’s words, or endure the brilliant light that he presaged. But Jesus, having already embarked on His redemptive mission, spoke the words confirming John’s worthiness, “Blessed is the man who does not find me a stumbling block.” (Matthew 11:6) John met his death, and the last prophet in an ancient line passed from the face of the earth.

The second aspect of John’s life which strikes import for the Church and for my ministry is explained in a saying of Jesus related by Matthew.

Amen I say to you, among those born of women there has not risen a greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater then he. (Matthew 11:11)

In this saying Jesus captures the central meaning of our existence, for we are privileged to live in the kingdom He came to establish, “a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love and peace.” (Preface of Christ the King) As great as John was, we live in the aftermath of the Resurrection, certain of our destiny, insured by the freely given grace of God. What all the prophets and patriarchs, and all the people in the history of salvation longed for, is ours to have and to hold.

But our privilege to live in the certainty of eternal life is not without its commensurate responsibilities. Christ came not only to save us, but to send us – to send as healers into the world’s poverty and suffering – to send us as teachers against the world’s skepticism and apathy – to send us, not as precursors, but as scholars of the Resurrection, and living torches aflame with the zeal of God’s Holy Spirit. For this reason, we call ourselves the “Pilgrim Church.” To us, the Creator of all mission speaks through the mouth of Isaiah, and gives us this charge:

It is too little…for you to be my servant – I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth. (Isaiah 49:6)

My sisters and brothers, today when I travel down the road into the unknown, it is but a road where I walk in the close company of the followers of Christ. From this day, I will call the Archdiocese of Atlanta my home, and I have no reason to suppose that I will end my days anywhere else. As you may know, I also celebrate with this liturgy the 25th anniversary of my ordination as a priest. I wish at this moment to thank everyone who has been with me along the way, for without the loving assistance of all my compatriots in the Lord, I surely would have faltered on the journey.

First, I thank my family – my brothers and sisters, and all the members of my family whose generous pride in my calling has been with me from the beginning, and who walk with me even now. Above all, I thank the blessed shade of my mother, who put me on the road to faith, and who always exemplified for us all, the same willing love which typified Mary, the Mother of our Savior. It was her open heart where I first saw the law of God’s love inscribed with determination and dignity, the law that to this day sustains and nurtures me in my ministry.

I welcome the presence of Archbishop Cacciavillan, who brings in his person the trust and encouraging words of our Holy Father, Pope John Paul II. How fortunate we are to live during the reign of this most remarkable servant of the servants of God, a pontiff who labors unceasingly for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who has thrown himself unstintingly into the foray of human endeavor, who builds lasting bridges across the raging rivers of indifference, and who guides us with the unclouded wisdom of the Holy Spirit.

I thank all the bishops of the Church, many of whom have gathered with us today, for their example, for their patience, and for their undying concern for the sheep of the fold, the Church.

I thank and remember with great fondness my predecessors in office – Bishop Hyland, Archbishop Hallinan, and Archbishop Donnellan. I also thank then auxiliary bishop and now Cardinal Joseph Bernadine. Most especially, I wish to voice a message to Archbishop Marino.

Archbishop, we send you our greetings and assure you of our never-ending affection and prayers. Our love for you and our pride in your accomplishments far outdistance the extreme circumstances of your departure. You will always have a place in our hearts, and we long for the day when you will return. Be at peace, and do not tarry long before we see you face to face.

I thank the priests, deacons, religious and professional people of this local Church, who have welcomed me into their own family, and who have unceasingly supported me as I have begun my work in the Church of North Georgia. I am confident, that as the future unfolds, we will share often in the excitement and the fulfillment to which the calling of God leads us.

I greet the members of the ecumenical, the Jewish and the interfaith communities. In our firm will to “prepare the way of the Lord,” we find a common ground to work for the unity Christ taught, and to express our solidarity as we work for mercy and justice for all.

Finally, I thank the lay people of the Church. It is you who are the Church, whom I am called to serve in union with the whole presbyterate of the Archdiocese. It was from the gathering of John’s disciples, those who had come to repent and to be baptized, that Jesus Christ emerged that momentous day on the banks of the Jordan. It was with the humble folk of God, that Jesus most intimately shared His life on earth. It was for the human family that He gave His life, rose from the dead, and ascended into the starry heights of heaven on high.

“Space…the final frontier.”

The early followers of John the Baptist, and subsequently the first disciples of Christ faced a frontier as final as space, and just as unknown. They faced a Roman World, a pagan world, a world where strength of arms and political cunning were the final arbiters of a person’s destiny. They knew, that if they were to be true to His word, they would have to encounter new worlds and new civilizations – they would have to “boldly go where no one had gone before” – into the minds and souls of a human race that had never conceived or really known the Son of God, that had never considered a Law of Love.

Now, 2000 years later, the Church of Christ is known throughout the world, and the work of faithful generations of believers has spread the knowledge of Christ’s commandments far and wide. And yet, the challenge remains, for darkness always lurks just on the edge of consciousness; the globe may be saturated with the burgeoning culture of the third millennium, but the final frontier of the human psyche still presents us with unsolvable puzzles – the riddle of good versus evil – the conflict of greed versus generosity – the eternal tug-of-war between ignorance and knowledge, “doubt and faith, despair and hope, sadness and joy.” (St. Francis’ Prayer for Peace)

But like you, I take courage and comfort, in the Eucharistic Banquet – the body and blood of Our Redeemer, set on this table before us. This sacrifice is the everlasting sign of our salvation, and the genesis of all our good works. As Paul testifies, it is to us that the message of salvation was sent.

The ancient prayer, dear to the heart of my Franciscan community, declares it best:

O Sacrum Convivium, in quo Christus sumitur, recolitur memoria passionis ejus, mens impletur graia, et futurae gloriae nobis pignus datur! (Liber usualis)

O Sacred Banquet, in which Christ is received, the memory of His passion is recalled, the mind is filled with grace, and the pledge of future glory is given to us! Alleluia, Alleluia!

Let the Church say, “Amen!”